[attr="class","spiral"]So much for a vacation. The bulk of his time at the beach was spent either chaperoning Stormy Silph — a miraculous bargain that no one quite understands how she managed to swindle him into — or shotgunning through the Pokeathlon. Time away from the office does Fernando good beyond just the mental relief. Constant exposure to sunlight has painted his skin a deeper tone that matches the paint set he owes his Smeargle. Even his bags have started to blend into his natural skin tone, symbolically fading away alongside his stress.

Only at night does Fernando find solace in freedom. He's even abandoned any care for appearances, wearing only a pair of black swimming trunks. His lack of sandals or any type of shoes shows in the way the sand sprinkles between his toes. It isn't until he washes up to the bar that Fernando bothers with shaking them clean.

Music lulls the crowd into a festive fever. Scattered speakers mark every remarkable point of convergence. Locals and tourist alike find a reason to dance in their summer stupor, clearing out the bar well enough for Fernando to approach without having to wade through too many bodies. At first, he doesn't recognize Cait, hidden in plain sight. He's never seen her in anything aside from her League attire or a formal dress, hence the disconnection between her body and glasses.

Ignorant to a fault, Fernando looks over one of the drink menus, looking to revisit some of the specialty cocktails from the earlier Beach Party.

[attr="class","spiral"]Seldom can voices snap up his attention with a vigor that leaves him rigid in attention. Cait Alfric is one of the few. As the one trainer who met his expectation immaculately while eating out of his lap, she's earned it. While that honor may have expired, bad habits are hard to break. It shows in the way his recognition reflects the same courtesy smile he returns her, one well saturated in the halls of Lilycove and the occasional visit to Mauville.

"Alfric—"

Instincts simmer down with time. Fernando drops the mask and instead scoffs inwardly, face loosening up as his smile seems to slacken into something more natural. It reeks of a predator, of a man conspiring for his own gain.

"—I suppose Cait would be more appropriate."

A sweep of his hand brushed off the seat. He pats it for good measure, welcoming.

"I hope things are well."

[attr="class","spiral"]“Good, good.” Fernando could care less but that’s expected by now. As long as he can keep up the farce, no one can tell between his inward chuckle and uncanny smirk. “I’m glad you’re able to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

The question turns to him and he answers by fumbling the drink menu. He opens it up, turned toward her, gesturing for her to pick something. “Believe it or not,” his speech slows down as he also takes his chance to read some of the cocktails, “I’m on vacation.”

Surprisingly prompt, Fernando is able to find something he wants and notes the name into his short term memory. “Which means a little more Silph Co. and a lot less Council. But otherwise I’ve been good. ‘Learning to relax’ or so my doctor says.”

[attr="class","spiral"]"I'm fine."

The more evident her worry the harder it becomes to do anything but smile. Although guilt in itself is a powerful tool, there's little use on placing it someone like Cait. Her mental fortitude comes second to her undying patriotism. That much he trusts, if only because he refuses to accept that his hold on her has faltered to such an extent.

"I've worked for too much of my life to quit now," mild laughter, small talk, it's boring but it gets the job done. Fernando waves at the bartender and picks the most colorful drink from the menu. He expects it to taste as good as they make it look.

"Exercising, actually. The Pokeathlon is coming up and I intend to win it all. Every single event and every single place. Silph Co.'s marketing department is counting on it."

His eyebrows raise, as if challenging.

"How about you? Interested?"