[attr="class","isratalk"]

The steady rhythm of heeled boots in the snow announces her arrival, the tune she hums likely unfamiliar, eery and slow. The parasol she is known for carrying sits on her shoulder, twirling gently against her jacket back and forth to the tune of her song and she keeps it low to her head while he speaks. It's as much for her face as a shield for anything else, hidden below the hem of the lacework pattern.

Her chuckle is soft and amused. The parasol tilts back, so she can get a good look at him. "No." her tone does not deem it a command but the way she carries herself almost makes it seem like he won't be given a chance to argue against her.

"If the league gets involved you are my dear cousin from Sinnoh, here checking on me and my family. Perhaps taking an interest in the competitive bracket of Hoenn with it having been so recently refreshed with the fall of Rocket." there's something potent in her smile as she reaches up with a gloved hand, index finger laying on her lips as if she is making a decision. "And your name is Fredrick, not something so obviously a code name as Blackbird." it's not her that chuckles this time, the banette flickering into view beside her, losing his focus in his own amusement before returning to the place in between where he lingers. Following her where no one could see. "And back in Sinnoh, we work primarily in the competitive fields or making equipment for competitors, both our own and rivals, as a sign of good sportsmanship of course."

By now she stands beside him where he has commandeered a patio table that is not his. Her eyes trail down the line of shops, settling on the one that they are meant to seek out. She finds herself sporting a devilish grin when she leans sideways to speak to him again, voice in a low whisper. "We shouldn't have much to worry about tonight though, this snow has them all in a tizzy." She looks at him. "How gentlemanly of you though, I do appreciate it."

She straightens, standing beside him and watching the shop for a moment. "You said they're inside right? Did you case it for cameras?"

Isra scans the shop front, searching the rest for the same device. Even so much as her parasol (though this one is different pattern of course) could give her away. Not to mention she'd like to do this right.

It's been a long time.

Cillian Quinn
>>excuse her, she's a being a bit much

[attr="class","gavin"]

"It's a code name, it's meant to be obvious." It's his turn to be amused, small smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes, cold hazel behind glasses that catch the light of the setting sun. "If you wanted an alias, I've got plenty. But Fredrick will do."

She's come prepared, it seems, and he makes a mental note of it for his report. He'd planned his own cover story in the event that they'd be going in blind, but it seemed there had been no need. He takes a moment to commit her joint story into memory, leaning against the table and exhaling mist.

His eyes track her Banette as it appears and disappears, then flick back to Isra.

"What shall I call you then, cousin?"

On the subject of cameras, he finds himself refocused on their target business.

"As much as I could without being obvious," he confirms. "They've only got one inside that I saw. It watches the front counter and the entrance, typical. There'll be blind spots if we need to get rough."

---

notes:

lmk if you want anything adjusted! feel free to have things go awry, i'm up for anything!

mission

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Isra blinks down at him, as if he were just a little bit of an idiot and she were making a new assessment of him. He carries himself well but he doesn't seem to get the point, she thinks. "Exactly, if your goal is to be obvious."

"Your goal should never be to be obvious."

She states it almost like it's a given because to her it is. At least when doing this kind of work. Being obvious is how you made messes and such things have a time and a place and neither of those would have been in front of the league. At least not yet. "Vallerie, nice sound to it don't you think?" she smiles again, eyes never leaving the shop front. She's watching through the front window now, as shadows dance on its walls in the light they've left on.

There's a gentle nod when she listens to his comment on the cameras. Casing it reasonably is acceptable even if she would prefer thorough. It will have to do though, it's not like she's the only person in the world that carries a parasol. She's seen a fair few in the past few days as people try to ward off the snow.

"Good enough, we shouldn't keep them waiting long Fredrick. Might miss our chance to get that treat you so desperately wanted to try to commemorate your first ever trip to Hoenn!" She winks.

Naturally, she called ahead, asked them if they would be open until she could get her dear cousin to come down because they are the absolute best in town and it's the only day she'll be able to bring him over before he goes home! A tug on the heartstrings works better than it ever should.

Isra moves away from him with a smile. She hopes he's ready for a little fun.

Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","gavin"]

Gavin stares evenly back at her, unaffected by the judgement he can see in her gaze.

"If the league gets involved, we've already been too obvious." He worked best under the radar, preferring to stay out of sight of even his fellow Rockets most of the time. "I'd rather not burn a good alias on a lost cause, with them."

Aliases, real ones, were expensive. You needed fake IDs and elaborate backstories. Should they be caught red-handed by the league, he'd be loathe to give up one of those expensive investments. His aliases weren't for being captured, they were for avoiding capture. That would need to change if they kept him out in the field; a fact he's not thrilled about.

This had better pay well.

"Don't worry about me, Valerie, I'm not half as foolish as you might think."

There's a shift, then, from the intense Rocket agent to a man who's smile crinkles his eyes and scrunches his nose, a man who's thrilled to see his cousin and absolutely not about to shake down some poor businessman for an underground organization.

"Oh, I do hope they'll let us in." His saccharine tone won't last; he's hamming it up on purpose, a glint in his eye. "It would be a real shame if we had to come back another day."

---

notes:

gavin's a real scrooge w/ his money i'm learning

mission

[attr="class","isratalk"]

She chuckles because it seems that he does not know. That's fine, she'd rather it be that way. Being unrecognized means that perhaps she has flown under the radar enough to get away with this little dip back into the darkness for awhile before it finds a way to bite her. She knows it can't last forever but she'll milk it for as long as she can. That's the point there, if the league is involved she needs things to stay as quiet as possible.

Maybe that's why she feels the need to reach into her bag, moving the small string of pokeballs that normally sits in a pocket up to the rim of her parasol. He's quite the actor it seems, at least for now this bodes well.

"It really would, more than once might leave you tempted to try too many!" she giggles like a school girl, arm looping around his to pull him up from his seat as if too overcome with excitement to contain herself. "Let's go let's go!"

There's a certain degree of genuine joy in her toy, something that makes the act even easier to put on. She's been inactive for so long she simply can't wait. "You don't get treats like this back in Sinnoh after all right? Because the ingredients are hard to find outside of Hoenn. Better get them while you're here."

She slips into the character with a practiced ease, a too gentle smile, her posture seems to loosen just enough to look more like an excited cousin and less like the prim and proper young lady she normally is. She expects him to play along with her conversation as she guides him to the shop, it wouldn't do to have them look anything less than the part they're supposed to play as they enter after all. "It's the one right over there! They even have the light still on for us."

Cillian Quinn
>>if only she could relate, matter of money fly over her head :'D Feel free to have them enter I just try not to get ahead of myself in posts

[attr="class","gavin"]

She seems excited. Perhaps, like Gavin, she's hoping for a fight. Perhaps she simply enjoys getting out in the field. Perhaps, though he doubts it, she actually wants to try the sweets they're pretending to rave about.

Whatever the case, he allows her to take his arm and wears a sheepish expression as they make their way toward the shop.

"Sinnoh can be so bland compared to Hoenn. But familiarity gets old no matter where you're from. I'm sure you get bored of Hoenn sometimes, huh?"

His tone is lighter, friendlier, consistency only in the way his accent forms around the words.

He finishes the question as he pushes open the doors, sure to speak loud enough so as to be overheard by the man behind the counter. He doesn't look at the man, at first, attention fixed on his 'cousin', but when he turns to him at last, he's all smiles.

"Thank you so much for staying open a little longer," he gushes, smiles wide as if it's the best thing in the world. "My cousin's raved about this place; isn't that right, Val?" The nickname feels like the right touch, a little bit of personal affection. Like they'd grown up together, like they hadn't been strangers mere minutes before. "Do you have the Nomel Psyducks in stock?"

As the man shuffles to check the inventory, Gavin's gaze sweeps the interior in a practiced hunt for blind spots. His foot nudges Isra's ever-so-slightly, and he ambles a few steps toward the intended location under the guise of investigating other sweets.

He accepts an offered treat, hands over the cash, bites the head off the poor candied duck.

"There was another thing you wanted me to try," he mumbles around the bite, because Fredrick is not as composed as Gavin is and absolutely talks with his mouth full. "What was it, again?"

---

notes:
no worries about taking charge/getting ahead! i just roll w/ whatever!

mission

[attr="class","isratalk"]

It's easier to play pretend when you add in a pinch of truth. You don't get excited about nothing but Isra Nightingale most certainly gets excited about sweets. Gavin has hit a nail on the head without knowing it but he'll see proof of that later.

"It really does, maybe next time I'll get to go to Sinnoh. It's always a little more fun when you're showing things off, don't you think?" eyes are on him when they enter the store, looking every bit like the younger cousin excited to show something off to a relative she admires and adores. Somehow despite her height Isra makes herself seem like she could be younger and smaller- the smile naive as if she hasn't experienced the world enough to know better. She almost bonks the parasol on the door and closes it a little to get through, keeping it overhead once indoors.

"He means it too! Thank you so much!" the young woman claps her hands together as she speaks to the shop owner, one eye closing in a playful wink. The other eye scanning their surroundings, confirming what he has told her earlier, easily masked as an excited young girl looking around for more sweets than her stomach could possibly handle. Isra didn't like trusting people she hadn't worked with before, and even then having all her psyducks in a row ahead of time was much more her style. She hadn't been given the assignment with that much time and she'd had a feeling that was on purpose.

The nudge isn't needed but she takes the chance to ensure the man accepts the facade. "Fredrick! You're supposed to walk on you own feet, not mine." she chuckles, following him over to the spot by the counter, not a bad pick. Good enough she'll accept it. "Oh yes, that rare one."

"The peach porygon!"

The man seems excited to make a sale, and Isra knows why, a little tidbit she'd been told a year or so ago by a certain cait alfric. Wonder how she's been doing? Isra doesn't let him get too far. "You know. I've been told peach's are actually pretty hard to find, the usual market is drowning in its more popular variant the Pecha because of its ability to remedy poison which a peach lacks. Low in general demand but it has a more potent flavor than the pecha does, which makes it quite the choice for a small treat shop to carry. You must have to go quite out of your way to have the ingredient." The man seems surprised when she rattles it off, nothing more than regurgitated and flourished information.

"I imagine that'll make a pretty penny or two, especially here with how many people will come and go." somehow, despite the shift in her wording she never stops sounding unusually cheery, the smile never drops. A well practiced lie. "Would be a shame if someone started causing trouble for you with those shipments, I imagine losing even just one or two to rot on the way here is pretty damning."

"But that kind of safety is pretty easily bought, if you're willing to share those pretty pennies of course. Right Fredrick?"

The implication is clear and the man suddenly understands just how set up he's been, face dropping in an instant. His hands reaches in his pocket and Isra glares. She hopes Gavin is ready for a fight.

Cillian Quinn
>>she's gonna tell gavin to take the pokemon so feel free go for it \ovo/ she wants to hit him with her parasol

[attr="class","gavin"]

"Ah, sorry!" He's not, at all, but his laughter and loose tone makes it believable. "There I go not paying attention again, eh?"

Except he is paying attention. Hazel eyes miss nothing as the focus shifts from their lie to the truth that's shrouded in it, the real reason why they're here. He's smiling, too, but there's something far more sinister in his expression when there are no cameras to catch it.

"That's right, Valerie."

He watches as the man catches on to their implication, steps forward with his own hand resting comfortably on a pokeball. "We'd be more than happy to make sure that nothing happens to those precious shipments of yours, for a price.."

The man sends out an Alcremie — a sensible choice, for a sweet shop, but Gavin knows it must've been an expensive acquisition. Galar had only recently lifted its restrictions, so the imported Pokemon were rare.

Gavin's Crobat emerges and lingers behind him, a four-winged shadow.

His voice drops low, barely a whisper.

"Do you know much about Crobat?" His eyes find the Alcremie and never leave it as he speaks. "They're ruthless hunters. Once they get their fangs in something, it can be very hard to make them let go. Some trainers resort to removing the venom as a precaution." He laughs, humorless. "I haven't, though."

He finally looks back at the man. He's gone pale, white-knuckled hand gripping his Alcremie's ball.

Gavin's voice returns to its normal volume.

"We'll even keep your Pokemon safe for you. That Alcremie is very rare in Hoenn; you wouldn't want it falling into the wrong hands."

He holds out a hand, white teeth flashing.

---

notes:
~
mission

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Fine. She'll admit it. He plays along well.

Impressed isn't a word one can use to describe Isra, nothing impresses her but it does catch her eye. He's got the same kind of want for this she does and it's something she can accept. Maybe even enjoy a bit. She likes company that does not hold back.

Her eyes don't move from the man behind the counter, watching for the tell tale signs of fight or flight. He'll make his choice soon and it's evident by the end of Gavin's words that he won't simple hand over anything, she can tell by the look on his face. It's too bad, this really didn't need to go like this. A single gloved hand raises above her shoulder, with a snap of her fingers and a quick gesture at the cameras it begins.

The lurking banette appears in front of the first camera, this time with a burst of energy and shadow. He surfaces from a plane somewhere in between and the phantom force that follows it more than enough to destroy the first of the two cameras without little trouble and little noise. The second is quickly cloaked in a growing sneaking shadow. The woman is grinning as she walks towards the gate that allows them behind the counter, no longer fearful of being seen.

"You mind handling his pokemon Fredrick?" she asks but it's more of an expectation. She's got her eyes set on the man that thinks fighting back is an option. He scrambles for a command, the Alcremie making an attempt at a dazzling gleam that the build up of doesn't seem to deter her.

If her partner can't take care of the pokemon her own will.

Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","gavin"]

Had they not backed him into a corner, Gavin may have respected the resolute temperament of the business owner. He shakes his head, steps back, clearly resolving to fight rather than flee or simply give in to their demands.

"A pity," Gavin says, tone dripping threat. "Had you cooperated, this would have gone much better for you."

When he is sure that the cameras have been taken care of, Isra's ghost-type disabling one and obscuring the other, Gavin whistles his Crobat forward, gesturing. It dives between trainer and Pokemon, separating the two and leaving the man powerless to intervene as the winged terror sinks its poisonous fangs into Alcremie's soft form. The delicate composition of the fairy-type is not ready for such a shock of venom, and its cry of pain is accepted as a necessary evil. Its attempt at a dazzling gleam falls short as it struggles to escape.

"It suffers because of you." He leaves Isra to handle the man, seeing as she clearly had plans for him, but directs the cruel comment toward the trainer of the wailing dessert nevertheless. "Remember that."

True to its nature, Crobat does not let go until its foe goes limp in its grasp.

Gavin does not recall it, but calls it off before it can kill such a valuable asset. "Hand its ball to my beloved cousin," he instructs, after Isra accomplishes whatever it was she'd set out to do, "or I'll send it after you."

The bats fangs drip with thick cream.

"Consider it a tax for being difficult."

---

notes:
~
mission

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Isra is quite pleased when he managed not to fail her. She would have hated having to show too many of her own pokemon on something like this but she can't let the Banette down until their done. He could always break the second camera too but leaving something with nothing worth noting was so much more enticing.

This man however, was annoying the shit out of her. It should have been obvious by now they weren't playing games and they xpected to have something on hand by the end of the night.

Its is with the heaviest of sighs the woman lifts her parasol from her shoulder and closes it as the man backs away from her- there isn't far for him to go either considering the fact the shop's quite small and it takes and entire other door to get to the kitchen in the back. Makes him an easy target for the swing, straight for his shins.

He wails just as much as his pokemon and she grimaces. "How weak." the next swing is against his chest to wind him and pin him to the wall, a personal favorite of her's. She makes him stand on that throbbing shin, watching him closely as he fumbles for the ball. He returns it and curls his arms around it, as if to try and keep it from them, saving it from the monsters in human skin standing before him.

The next swing is to his thigh and she lets him drop to the floor, letting the pokeball go as he drops. Isra scoops it up without much effort and glares down her nose at him. "Next time, hand over some money when you catch on instead of making it a problem. It'll be much better for you. And besides, if you're generous enough you might get your pokemon back." She winks at him as he heaves at the pain in his chest and leg. He won't get the pokemon back and they both know it but most humans were soft, weak creatures that wouldn't hesitate to try.

"Speaking of" the sing song tune signals her reach for the loops of keys on the man's belt, grateful for the gloved hands to keep this little fact to themselves as she turns to toss them to Gavin. "I say what'ever's in the till still is our's this time, next time around though, may want to wait a bit before you put any in the safe."

Isra imagines between whatever was left and a Galarian pokemon they'd give the man a good enough to scare to call the job done. Her eyes drift to the treats still left behind the counter.

Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","gavin"]

Isra's handling of the situation elicits a genuine laugh from Gavin, low and deep in his throat. He watches, merciless, as his companion beats the last dregs of resistance from the man.

Gavin's reflexes are quick, his own gloved hand coming up to snatch the keys from the air. Inconvenient as the cold weather had been for the region, it had meant that no one would look twice at someone wearing gloves. He opens up the till with one hand and snags a chocolate Poochyena with the other, popping it into his mouth solely to spite the man who could do nothing to stop them.

"Next time," he says, and this time he does swallow before speaking, "you're going to be polite, and you're going to be obedient. It can get so much worse than this."

Gavin tucks the money from the till into his winter jacket, then recalls his Crobat to its pokeball.

"Well, Valerie, I think our work here is done."

He strides confidently to the exit of the store, pausing with his hand on the door and glancing back at her.

---

notes:
P9G48n2b
mission

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Isra whistles, a string of notes, her pokemon understands and his shadow closes in around the camera and breaks it, leaving little behind for the man to try and salvage for the police. Content, the parasol returns to her shoulder and she eyes the sweets case again.

It becomes quickly apparent that having Gavin handle the till works as both an extra wound for the man to nurse and a chance for her to ransack it for sweets. Isra nabs a full team of varying candied pokemon- an obvious preference to ghosts and slips them in a paper bag she grabs from behind the counter-obviously meant for customers. She considered the payment of pain more than worthy as payment.

"Off we go then sir Fredrick!" she slips back into the same charade for a moment, a sing song hum as she steps back past the counter, snapping her fingers to alert the banette into slipping into the plane inbetween again to follow. The sound of her heels on the tile seem to contrast the sounds of a sobbing man, cold and cruel and uncaring.

She steps out the door with her Parasol perfectly placed over her head, just in case.

Cillian Quinn
gRA0hOvI