[attr="class","spiral"]Drinking is a sport best left for the weekend, in the hands of good company and even more rambunctious friends. The rowdy laughter of patrons who cherish the end of a hard week bombard the streets of Lilycove with a cheer for the debauchery that's to come. The liveliness of the streets are the exact reason Fernando avoids the same commute. His workflow leads to dreary nights and his indulgence fall along the typical work week, stifling the growing fatigue that comes from self imposed overtime.

The bars of Lilycove are both comparably unique yet similar since they inherently borrow from the city's vibrant history to carry their central theme. The Speak-Easy is no different, tailored as a smooth jazz bar that breaks away from the other low maintenance sports bar that rely on big Pokemon battles to curry their business. The advent of the Tapu avatars have cemented his name in the media and the lack of attention or a television makes the cocktail bar more attractive compared to his usual spot. Fernando takes a chance and finds himself at the bar, looking over the menu of specialty drinks before settling on the standard happy hour special: gin and tonic.

The string of piano key lull a slow tempo and Fernando finds his eyes strewn along the floor. Drink in hand, his eyes focus in on the band before drifting along the other select few that have decided to venture out for the evening. Another couple sits near the front together and a middle age man sits off near the fire exit. There's only one person alone that perks his interest but Fernando remains inactive, drink in hand as he gauges the only single lady here.

[attr="class","spiral"] Lady Luck strings him like fiddle, toying with his intentions well before he has a chance to act upon them. The tempo of the chase is distorted by the repeated blow of the saxophone and Fernando finds himself on the receiving end of of being courted. To have someone else approach feeds into two likely scenarios, both of his assumptions stemming from the notoriety that comes with his name.

"Settling keeps you humble. At least until someone else can buy me a drink." His words don't express his demeanor, the complete antonym behind an assertive smirk confident in his own poise. "I don't usually catch the fancy of someone else's treat."

[attr="class","spiral"] Flattery is an everlasting buzz that blooms on its own. It takes a conscious effort to dissuade himself from snapping at the bait dangled harmlessly in front of him, privy to the invisible line that hustles for hungry intentions. The reversal of the chase comes with the revelation that he's the prey, a refreshing change but one laced with unknown dangers. Keeping his wits about him becomes a priority but one that must be knotted in secrecy to pry deeper into her net. Find her objective and then reap from her all his just desserts.

Fernando's drink sits nestled in his hand with Anya's patiently waiting, tempting but secondary to his own choice. There's a message to be derived by his next action and he diverts off his own path, planting a finger against the rim of the cocktail's straw to stir the ice in measured circles. "Oh?"

Narrowed eyes settle onto her gift, flirting toward her in small, subtle glances meant to stomach his approach. Decisiveness is reserved for the bold and for now he'll follow her lead. Build off her until he understand her intent and wretch the initiative right out from under her. The wiles of women do not elude him and the tease of flesh is one meant for boys. Intent is one thing, teasing is another, neither grant Fernando a definitive answer for what he wants and that alone is enough to stave off foolish desire.

"What kind of man do you take me for?"

An eyebrow raises the question and the gap in conversation allows him a moment to taste her — his drink. Contrary to its appearance, the drink is bitter. The vibrant color and decorative peel hint at something sweet but the taste of Grepa rips that expectation from the tip of his tongue. He stifles a mild chuckle and opens up, straightening up as his elbow leans forward, tilting him toward her direction.

[attr="class","spiral"] That's a common appraisal that Fernando hears regardless of circumstance. None of them are wrong but he acts so desperately to paint his image as anything but, another step to add onto the deception. But, like Anya's growing desire, escaping the association of title and claim prove impossible for him. His smirk loosens up and his eyes rest solely on hers, giving way to the pull, standing beside her, centimeters from touching.

"I like power but I don't engorge. I take what is given to me," hands loosen up and he staring down at her, facing her, exposed to her entirety. "Humility is knowing just how much to give for satisfaction." His voice is softer to match her volume, prying into her to find out what lies underneath. His assumption falls on lust but his consciousness suspects another hunger, something more.

"There is power in giving. All you have to do is ask."

[attr="class","spiral"] Perception is in the eye of the beholder. One person's generosity is another's submission. Fernando walks a fine line between the two and finds himself at an impasse: does he bow his ego in pursuit of tonight's escapade? Anya beckons for him, appeals to his body with her own, knowing that his mind will soon follow. Meaningfully, he puts a conscious effort in keeping his gaze in line with her own, actively ignoring the pressing need to trace along the hem of her skirt as it peels back to reveal temptation in human form. Her eyes become his focus, a central point that he can fixate himself on and his irises parallel her own, in both tone and hue.

The mood is alive and the hunt is on. The pressure to match is inherent and Fernando feels himself coerce into an activity that doesn't suit him. The Silph is lead footed by nature but he falls in line well enough, obedience being uncharacteristic but infinitely easier than setting out on his own. She leads him by the neck and his body trails after, like on a leash, bold hands settling on her waist to keep her close. His front brushes against her backside, clothes providing the only barrier to skin on skin. Proximity allows him to prime his lips close enough to only be audible to the tickle of her ears. His breath is heated against skin, heavy with a play at bravado to hide his own incompetence.

"Just the two of us and you'll cause a scene."

Anya has his interest if only because a woman intrepid enough to command a Silph is a rare case. She's in that sweet spot of demanding his attention without being painfully bossy. As long as she continues to provide ample bait, she has him hook and line.

[attr="class","spiral"] She's right about one thing: she's putting on a show. The same cannot be said about himself and there's a reason he prefers the role of audience. If she wants to dance for him that's one thing but to drag him along requires either patience or a guiding that allows Fernando to overcome his own stiffness. For him, a fluid motion is also the most efficient one, a straight laced solution that takes the least exertion. A quick turn, a mad dash out of danger, an instant draw of a Pokeball; to make extra motions for the art of presentation is lost upon him and it's impossible to undo.

Fernando feels his hand tighten around her waist when she dips herself, instinct running on high as his body assume a fall. He tugs her close and follows the touch of her hand, mirroring without understanding. She leads and he follows, half a step behind but pacing appropriately at her beckon. He can visualize how to move in accordance to the music and uses that as a crux to keep up. Only when he feels some semblance of rhythm does he allow his hand to slip from her waist to her hips.

"Do this often?"

[attr="class","spiral"] There are a multitude of things that Fernando excels at. This is not one of them and he will not attempt to maintain some farce that he comes even close to adequate. He knows his place and acts as a background piece, used to accentuate the focal point of the duo. The music plays to her tempo and he follows seamlessly, stiff, modest moves bearing at least the bare minimum to keep pace.

"Then that begs the question," Fernando slackens under her eyes, his own holding firm with a perked curiosity, "what else do you do?"