[attr="class","spiral"] Fernando has a reputation that proceeds him. Many considering him a trainer more capable than he claims to be. Others considering him a brooding sourpuss that mismatches the image he carries in the general public. Each person has their own perception of him and while valid none are close to the truth. They always miss the most important trait behind driven and obsessive.

Fernando is vulnerable.

It bleeds into his appearance. The lack of sleep, the hours of staring at a dull screen to parse data, the dreadful slouch that stems from his body running on autopilot to carry his body from place to place. Even so, compulsion steers him toward doing the only thing he knows how. There is a problem to solve and this requires him to snip the root of the issue before they can truly progress with change.

A folder of documents sits snug between his arm and side, clinging slightly below his armpit as he somehow finds a way through League Headquarters. Tracking down Balder Schwartz had taken some time and in between it he had still found a way to prepare for his own presentation. Isra Nightingale had proved essential to compiling the reports necessary but Fernando couldn't find a way to explain its purpose while staying vague.

The company he keeps with him is none other than his Smeargle. It'll prove essential for outlining any details that he cannot construe himself and he has no doubts that today's meeting will involve yelling and screaming in one form or another. He notices Orion Lykos not too far down the hall and greets him with a halfhearted wave. "Lykos." Fernando's steps are heavy, weighted by his exhaustion while he comes increasingly closer.

Up close, his colleague will recognize how far he's let himself go. While never one to particularly care about appearances, this takes it to the next level. His hair is frazzled, his eyes red. The bags that sit under his eyes have always been a trademark of a man who pushes himself well beyond what he should but this time they feast on his insomnia, fatten and plump which make them seem like small bruises more than anything else. "Here." There's no explanation but he extends a hand to provide his partner with a set of earplugs.

Exhaustion brings many things and right now it champions a crankiness that kills his energy. Fernando knows better and sits on it, allowing the potential energy to culminate as he enters the room. Without so much as a word, he takes his seat somewhere between the farthest one from Olivia as well as the closest one to where he entered. He sets the folder down and slips out several copies of his report. Strangely enough there's several graphs and a small wall of text near the bottom with numbers sprawled across the top.

[attr="class","spiral"] Kim Cole is an enigma. No one can predict what the man is up to or where his power stems from. Fernando expects some measure of buffoonery, yes, but he can never pinpoint the method, never the medium. And with time he has come to accept it. There is little room for him to negotiate when the populace eats it up. Kim campaigns on an effortless platform of populism and Hoenn embraces it like his fashion sense. Baby carriers will be the iconic look of 2020.

So when Kim Cole comes barging in, Fernando proves to be the least bothered alongside Dahlia who welcomes him with her traditional small talk. The Head Ranger is of no importance to him and Fernando shrugs off his excuse with little care. Rather than sit out and drawl on the explanation, Fernando shuffles among his papers before scooting a copy in front of Orion and Kim who flank him on either side.

He can feel Kim's stare bear into him and he meets him with direct eye contact, gesturing with a disappointed shrug until prompted further. "Things didn't go her way so now she's resorting to team work." He turns to Orion, who coincidentally had been looking to him as well. He sits in silence, considering his own interjection before Orion chips in.

The newest member would be the one to try and make things right. Against his own advice, there had been a reason why Fernando gave his own opinions on the council. Among a normal groups, Orion's advice may have had some traction. He's certainly not wrong. Having someone play mediator would do much for ensuring an orderly and productive meeting. Unfortunately, this council is anything but functional and Fernando's long resigned in trying to bring any order to the group. Sparks will fly and he's only waiting for someone to ignite the first sparks.

For now, he bides his time, granting Orion's request if only to hear what will undoubtedly be bullshit.

[attr="class","spiral"]There are no masks among the trusted. Fernando is too worn to find the strength to mute his expressions. They come with the ebb and flow of his natural reactions, washing up on his face with a tell that exposes him like an open book. It starts with how visually taken aback he is from the comment about Olivia doing — well, anything— for the sake of someone else. The canvas was left pristine without a care for any of their introductions but now with the advent of actual news, Fernando paints his feelings with broad strokes.




"Holy shit—" She just keeps on going and Fernando doesn't realize the words have left his mouth. Conscious thinking has a way of leaking out and the realization that he's vocalizing his thoughts go amiss. "—you're actually a fucking idiot." The volume of his claim fits neatly in the conference room, controlled and laden with actual astonishment. It's rare for the councilman to berate someone unintentionally but it's even rarer for him to speak his mind.