it was an honor, really, to be working under one of rocket's underbosses.

she had known of the previous rocket's fall, and how this new organization had functioned as more of an organized crime group than a gang. but she was still surprised to see that they had a few programs to settle their new recruits—a rotation program no less—to become familiar with the senior officers in the organization.

but she supposes that even bad people care about retention and treating their workforce well.

and so now she had been rotated in for elisabeth fiorelli, the underboss of rockets, only second to the true leader. she was admittedly nervous, and eager to please. and so she did what any intern was wont to do—there's a coffee in her hand, warm and freshly poured from a cafe nearby.

the clock strikes at the top of the hour when she arrives, marking her appearance as only a few seconds before late. she had hoped that this goodwill would curry some slight favor; she had asked around for elisabeth's coffee order after all, and she'd made sure that they had made the coffee to expectations.

cassidy knocks before entering, quietly approaching elisabeth's desk with doe-like caution. and so with the coffee cradled in two hands, she proffers it towards the underboss with a dip of her head in deference.

"miss fiorelli, thank you for giving me this opportunity. i will attempt to fulfill my duties and responsibilities to the best of my abilities—my will is yours."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

she does as she's told, placing the coffee on the table before walking over to where she had entered, turning the handle and silently pushing the door shut. closed doors can mean many things; vulnerability and trust, secrets. but to cassidy, it usually meant that something terrible was going to happen. she knew from experience the model industry that preyed on its bright eyed talent, and the predators that roamed their offices. it was all too familiar.

and so she cannot help but wonder what this closed door meant; elisabeth was no kind person, that much is that truth. no underboss of a mafia organization got their title by being good. but as much as her instincts had told her to run and never look back, her legs instead carried her to the open chair across from elisabeth's desk, obedient.

her chest tightens and her stomach twists, and yet she finds that she prefers this familiarity, knowing what to expect. she takes notice of the underboss's mocking tone, reminiscent of times past. it's simply the rules of the game—and so she slides back into her role like a glove: hungry and compliant.

"of course, ma'am. i am cassidy, formerly a civilian, now a recruit. my colleagues say that at my current state, my skills are best suited for poaching. however i'm still exploring and eager to learn." she says, still doggedly earnest despite the way it reflects on her reputation. she did not like to lie, nor overstate her influence. at the end of the day, it was the only way she knew how to survive—truth. only truth.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

poaching was a job none too glorious; reserved for the lowest of grunts, and rather basic at that. it was simple: you steal pokemon. you extract them from their owners, or perhaps from their wildlands if they are valuable enough, and you sell them for money. it was profitable so long as you set your morals aside, and cassidy found it easier than it perhaps should have been.

she was keenly aware of elisabeth's questioning tone, eyes watching her flip through the file on her desk like an arbiter. waiting for judgement, cassidy's gaze idly wanders to the sprigatito on her lap, endeared to its large and curious eyes.

only a few seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity before elisabeth makes her conclusion: that her talents were wasted poaching.

she can't help the owlish look in her face, her eyes wide and blinking in disbelief. in her mind, she knew that these words are most likely lies, or at least a disguise to hide less pure intentions. but despite knowing all of that, she was still a famine for praise, and elisabeth had given her just enough to stay hungry.

"i...i suppose you're right, miss fiorelli. i was previously a model, but i had made a mistake, and i had to face the consequences." cassidy says. she does not want to make excuses, nor does she want to waste elisabeth's time.

instead, she looks forward at the underboss's suggestions, her musings implying a greater responsibility. espionage and the like was not something she had considered for herself, but cassidy thinks that she was more than capable of doing so if asked. and so she poses her next question, eager.

"what are some places you would have me?"

Elisabeth Fiorelli

"...yes, ma'am. i've learned much since then." she says, stuttering slightly. the lessons that she has learned were rather cruel; for a child like her to learn how the world works, with their favors and transactions. for the cost of succeeding, rendered by powerful men and the society they have engineered.

she had an idea of what elisabeth was going to tell her next. her heart pounds loud in her ears, the cold feeling of dread drifting across her limbs. but in it was also a sense of acceptance—no, excitement, even. for the doors that elisabeth has opened.

at the end of the day, it did not matter whether she was a model or a rocket; the nirvana of the elite and wealthy was never ending, and there was no one better to navigate it than her. fear and hunger were two sides of the same coin, and cassidy reflected that intention in her eyes, searching deeply into elisabeth's gaze.

"y-yes. i have such connections, and i am more than willing to use them, miss elisabeth."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

she could not help the tiny smile that flits across her face at elisabeth's praise. she was surprised at how much it made her feel happy. for so long she had gone without approval and validation that she had forgotten what it felt like, even if given conditionally.

"thank you, miss elisabeth." she responds, not knowing what other words to say. out of all of the rotations she had done, she hadn't expected an underboss to give her a missive, much less the time of day.

the excitement in her stomach and lightness in his chest lingered; she wanted to surpass elisa's expectations no matter the cost. her mind knows better; her heart did not.

silph was a household name by now, a presence ubiquitous in the region. she vaguely recalls the nature of their heirs—hand chosen. they were the top of the already powerful elite. she swallows, clenching her hands as to not reveal that they shook, and that she was afraid. if this is the task that elisabeth wanted to entrust her with, then she would commit wholly to it, body and soul.

"familiar enough, miss."

Elisabeth Fiorelli