Cap could say that it was by design that he didn't frequent the Rocket headquarters often. He had to keep a low profile as far as the connections-to-organized crime were concerned, after all. In reality, he'd only just been made aware of its existence recently. He assumed one had to exist, of course, but getting the nitty gritty information as to the where and how to get in were a little harder to dig up. Typically one couldn't simply walk in the door. Now that he knew it, however, he had every intention of making use of the facilities.

And, much as he hated it, that also meant the training facilities. And that meant spending some of his tips on new workout clothes. He'd locked himself into the rowing machine, and was so focused on the rhythmic woosh of each pull that he hardly noticed anyone else in the facility.

He certainly noticed being hit with a blast of water.

"What the hell?" he yelled, his words garbled by the solid column of water. He would've been thrown off the rowing machine entirely were his feet not already strapped in. That probably wasn't much of a blessing. When the water stopped, he coughed and gasped, fumbling to unhook himself before he finally slid to the floor on his back.

As he wiped the water from his face, spluttering to try to get a decent breath, a figure stepped up beside him. Cap didn't recognize the voice, not at first. But the seed of familiarity planted itself firmly in his brain and forced him to open his eyes.

"Holy sh⁠— Marcel?" Like clockwork, his lips split in a wild grin and a look of relief replaced the one of confusion. He accepted the towel — and the hand — graciously. Before he'd even fully been pulled to his feet, Cap was laughing. "If I'd known I was going to see so many familiar faces, I would've made a break for Hoenn a long time ago." Of course, if he could've comfortably stayed in Johto, that's where he'd be right now. He started to towel himself off, eyeing Marcel like he was sizing up something he was about to buy. "How've you been, anyway?"

"Kosuke, got it." No explanation needed, no questions asked. Cap had always been more liberal with his identity than most of his coworkers. That was probably why he'd never been promoted, but if he had to be honest that wasn't so bad for him. He liked his work, and promotions meant more responsibility. He got to drink fun drinks and chat with interesting people. And occasionally feed some tidbits back to his bosses. "I've been fine." Non-committal, par for the course. He ran the towel through his hair, resigning himself to faux-bedhead for the rest of the day. Ah, but when had anyone ever looked put together at the gym? "Never thought I'd be around here! Johto was getting a little hot, so I dipped. I'm all settled in here, though. Got a nice apartment in Slateport—" well, it certainly wasn't nice "—and I'm picking up shifts at bars. Just trying to get a network together." He let himself smile, but there was a sourness to his words that comes with the experience of watching years' worth of work slip away into nothing. "They still got you doing information-gathering, huh?" There were a few reasons Marcel might use a fake name in public, but given their history Cap felt like he had a pretty solid guess.

Cap finished toweling himself off—as best as he was able, at least—and dropped the towel on the soaked floor to mop up as much of the extra water as he could. They'd probably have to find a mop eventually, but he didn't want anyone to slip in the meantime. Well, he didn't want himself to slip; if there was anyone who was going to bite it on a wet gym floor, it'd be Cap.

"You know me," he winked, "I'm nothing if not resourceful." He scooted the towel around with his foot. It wasn't as bad as he made it out to be, truthfully. Luckily, he'd always liked his job. "Ah, don't sell yourself short, man." He looked serious for a moment, nodding absently at Marcel's offer of help. "If you could do anything, would this be it?" It was a question he'd asked himself more than once. But, in Marcel's words, what else would he do?

Marcel probably wouldn't know just how much his answer had set Cap at ease. His shoulders relaxed and he grinned, more nonchalantly this time. "Money's damn good," he said with a laugh. He'd had his opportunity, too, to leave. When the invasion of Johto failed, Cap had his out. So many of his old coworkers had scattered to the wind in the chaos afterwords. He could have done the same and no one would have been the wiser. No one would have blamed him. But he hadn't done that, truly he hadn't even considered it. He'd floundered in his old haunts in Johto for months and months, trying to spin straw back into gold. And when it became abundantly clear that the walls were closing in on him, he ran not for freedom but for the place he knew Team Rocket still had roots. He escaped to the familiar. It was easier, he supposed, even if he felt like he was rebuilding from the ground up.

"Yeah," he sighed and stretched his arms across his chest. He looked at the rowing machine for half a second before heading for a different machine. "Just make sure your Golduck keeps his water to himself."