“Thank you again, for the coffee and time. I’ll be sure to invite you over sometime soon,” Grigori said as he made his way to the broken door.

This had gone terribly. Absolutely awful. He couldn’t convince Howard to do the right (and smart) thing and pissed him off in the process. This pissed the grunt off even more. Fuck. Why couldn’t things be simple?

It was like watching a train crash in slow motion, and he stood powerless to stop it. The conductor was too stubborn, oblivious to the danger that lay ahead. It wasn’t necessarily it being Howard that got him concerned– a factor, but not the end of the world– it was the general distrust. People always meant well and wanted to get around to things like this. Hell, he used to be the exact same way.

Yet good intentions, or well-meaning, did little to fix a hurt heart. It was all too easy to wait until the very last minute or to let someone find out the hard way. And from there… good intentions meant nothing.

Good intentions damned his only relationship outside of Rocket. If it happened to Howard, he’d never forgive himself.

Grigori tried to open the door, only to find that it came off the frame. Right. He turned to the archeologist, “Mr. Howard, do you know where your landlord is? I need to go explain what happened and pay for the damages and repairs.”

---

howard slayte

"Not here. Probably trying to get me arrested." Howard gestured to the apartment. Not a lie, given she had been trying to get him evicted for years at this point. If she did, everything here would go to her. This was why he hated leases and contracts.

Much like the one he was in now. Contracts were simply a chain individuals clamped themselves in for ulterior motives. It wasn't about what was 'in' the contract, but was outside of it.

What was outside this contract with Grigori?

"She'll try to overcharge you. Don't let her."

---

Grigori Sokolov

"I will do my best, Mr. Howard," Grigori said. The worst that could happen is that he was effectively extorted for what he'd done. Not that he'd deny or even try to fight it, but he would certainly try to keep it as fair as possible. He wasn't made of money, and the actual door itself was still intact. Labor would be the most expensive thing, and he was willing to learn.

"But, truly, one last thing before I go, Mr. Howard," Grigori stopped moments before he returned the door to its frame, on the opposite side. He didn't think that far ahead, but surely the archeologist could put the door back after he left, if he could not manage.

"You're wrong about me not caring, Howard. I care too much. If I didn't care, things would've been a lot worse," he said.

With that, he tried to shimmy the door shut. He barely managed to get it to click. Heavy footsteps carried him away, towards wherever the hell the Landlord was.

---

howard slayte

"I see." Howard coughed as Grigori's footsteps faded away. He was alone, again.

"Grr." Shirley growled at him and cocked her head. Howard smiled. No, not alone. He had her. Taking a seat at his desk, he stared ahead towards his shelves of artifacts. They were worth millions of PD, easily. Yet they sat here on these shelves. Why was that? Did he even need to join Team Rocket, when he had done a decent job at artifact scrounging?

Who cared. It was in the past.

Team Rocket was a contract to Howard. It was just a contract that allowed him to follow his passion of archaeology, without fear of financial repercussions. He had traded his dignity for the ability to do what he enjoyed.

He was a monster, but he was different. He didn't hurt people. He was distinct. June was an accident, it wouldn't happen again. He'd ensure that.

He was not like them.

He was not.

---

Grigori Sokolov