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Rhys wandered the streets of Slateport, lost in thought. He'd been through more in the past few weeks than he'd expected, and while some of the missions he'd been assigned to had been profitable - either in the tangible sense for Rocket as an organization, or for him as a member of said organization - some had been decidedly otherwise.
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That man with the eyepatch, for instance - he'd shown up twice in short order, and Rhys would have thought it coincidence, perhaps, had the other man not been so vociferously against Rhys himself and anything he had to do, particularly on the research expedition to the Great Chasm. That hadn't even been a Rocket-sanctioned operation, just Rhys attempting to do a little information gathering on his own, and that idiot had treated him as though he were running every one of those Iron Treads through a compactor tail-first. The nerve.
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Then there was his most recent expedition to Area Zero - what should have been the most simple of all of them, a recon job, was burning in the back of his mind as his biggest failure in Rocket to date. Not that the expedition hadn't drawn useful information, no, so in that regard he was golden. As a person, however, he'd been kicking himself over every misstep he'd taken during the job, and how he might have turned it around to do better. If he'd been aware enough, strong enough, he could have taken out that initial rush of Paradox pokemon such that caden maher never would have needed to get involved. Then Rhys wouldn't be a mess of thoughts and frustrations now.
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He paused near the docks and shook a cigarette from his pack, lighting it with a practiced motion and taking a long drag. Being a member of a criminal syndicate seemed easy, some days, compared to coping with his own fragile ego.

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