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Mr. Roche wouldn't consider himself one with a thirst for adventure, but staring at ledgers, numbers, screens, and stakeholders all day could impose a sense of wanderlust in the most intractable soul.
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The Giant Chasm of Hoenn was not a place he particularly saw himself visiting, remote as it was, but news about both its appearance and its treasures had been skirting around for some time. Thus, he found himself conducting...market research, he supposed, when the air twisted and the world itself seemed to bend around him - and not in the way he'd have preferred.
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A Druddigon coalesced from nothingness up the path from him, roaring mindlessly before charging toward him. Taken off-guard, his reaction was dulled, and he'd have been mincemeat on the spot had his Meowth not yowled angrily forward, darting between the thing's draconic legs with a flurry of slashes that caused it to slow in consternation, if not in pain.
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The landbound dragon turned its attention on the small feline and opened its crimson jaws, fangs gleaming for a CRUNCH. The air around Castor twisted, however, and when the feline lunged forward between one instant and the next, he was a fully-grown Persian, delivering a series of blows that PLAYED ROUGH with the Druddigon, sending it crashing to the ground, insensate.
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Blinking, Roche regarded his pokemon with eyebrows raised in disbelief. Castor, for his part, padded lazily toward his trainer and rubbed along his leg, offering a satisfied purr.
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"Out. Now," he managed faintly, turning and making for the entrance as quickly as he dared while maintaining his composure.

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Mr. Roche canted his head slightly as he patiently allowed the woman to work through her answer to his scenario, not a whit of emotion glossing across his features. While the sequence of events he'd presented was, in some aspects, far-fetched, it certainly was no rare thing to have unexpected crises occur, and where most in this position had failed him boiled down to being unable to prioritize correctly.
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As she concluded, a faint, mirthless smile touched his lips. "Well-reasoned," he allowed, "But if it helps, my mother has been dead for nearly the past decade, and we shall all hope she stays that way."
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He surveyed Sasha for a long moment, his bright eyes seeming to pierce through her, such was their focus. He seemed less contemplative and more assessing, and it seemed that if he looked any harder he might very well be able to assess the very core of her being. Suddenly, he flipped the folder in front of him closed and slid it across the desk toward her with his fingertips, then waved his hand dismissively.
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"You'll suit," he drawled. "HR will be in touch with an offer letter and your compensation package by close of business. You'll start tomorrow, seven A.M., this office."
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His demeanor abruptly shifted - he became more animated, more dynamic, more lazily fluid in his movements, and offered her a sly wink. "I'll give you a late start for your first day."
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Rising from his seat, he circled around his chair to pluck his jacket from the claw-footed coat rack standing unobtrusively in the corner and shrugged it on with practiced ease, smoothing the lapels absently. "I'm afraid I'm off to my next engagement, but Simon can show you out." The butler, likely. He swanned to a smaller door at the side of the room - not the main entryway - and cracked it open. When he smiled at her, dazzling and bright, it seemed almost a completely different person from the one who sat opposite her at the desk.
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"Oh, and congratulations."
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The door snicked shut with a soft click, and Sasha was alone.

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Roche surveyed the woman as she spoke, offering nothing more than a slight twitch of his lips at her response. Not quite as banal as he might have expected, but nearly as predictable as he'd foretold. Were prospective hires the same everywhere? Spare him.
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"This work will certainly be supporting a great many others," he agreed, "Myself foremost among them. It is a demanding role, but I can assure you the compensation is commensurate with the work. You don't seem the type to let a hurdle or two stop you, am I correct?"
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Of course he's correct, he's been reading people for far too long at this stage of the game.
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Leaning back in his seat, he rolled his shoulders experimentally, gratified by the softly audible 'pop' of the persistent ache that had been plaguing him all morning releasing itself. With a grateful smile, he turned his attention more fully to the woman before him, lifting an eyebrow.
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"Shall we entertain a what-if? Presume I am to attend a shareholder meeting at the Slateport office at ten o'clock. En route, a security breach is detected at the Mauville branch, and news arrives that my mother is on her deathbed." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, as though to determine whether this highly unlikely series of events presented enough conflict for one period.
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"What would your course of action be to assist me?"

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Mr. Roche exited the lobby of his main branch and was greeted by a sudden gust of wind laced with curiously clean-smelling white smoke. He put a hand to his hat to keep it from flying away and looked in the direction of the source with a disapproving frown.
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A number of Galarian Weezing were congregating through the streets, and he could see their tall smokestacks winding through streets and alleys as they moved to converge. Fine by him - there were people who were paid to deal with that sort of thing, but at least they weren't interfering with any of his concerns.
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As though to prove him wrong directly, a particularly large specimen rounded the corner and floated near the bank's main entryway, belching a scintillating STRANGE STEAM that had Roche wrinkling his nose. Flipping his wrist, he threw a Luxury Ball at the Weezing, aiming to at least relocate the thing before it could deter potential clients.
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He'd worked too hard for some upstart smoke factory to put a wrinkle in his plans at this point.
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It really was a shame that Colin hadn't been able to determine who he could pay to alter the flow of time.
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He held numerous fantasies of varying types, but it was this that most often reared its head when he was trapped in official functions that he wanted nothing more than to be rid of. If it were another two hours from now, he could be comfortably ensconced in his hotel room with something or someone interesting, and instead he was fighting to not only stay awake but to stay sharp, because the need for further verbal gymnastics naturally did not stop once he left the conference table.
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Instead he was nodding agreeably to the buzz of conversation that he only half-processed, inserting the right comment at the right time to keep the context angled in the direction he preferred, and offering the occasional knowing smile that didn't once touch his eyes. One of these was directed at Artega as he sat in what was naturally the only empty seat at the table, and he mentally cursed his luck.
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Well, to say it was all bad would be an overgeneralization; Colin could appreciate the occasional eye candy, and Rafael Artega was nothing if not that. As he sipped from his tumbler, he regarded the other man's lips perfectly enunciating his next comment, regarded the dart of his piercing eyes as they flitted from target to target. He granted that the man knew how to carry himself, and Colin fancied he might almost enjoy the other's company were Artega unable to open his mouth.
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Well, perhaps certain reasons might be forgiven.
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With that thought, he drained his glass and set it to the side where it was almost immediately replaced with another. The dinner couldn't finish quickly enough.

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Mr. Roche gave an appreciative chuckle, a single monosyllabic huff of amusement at Sasha's response, though his eyes continued scanning over the document before him rather than moving up to meet her.
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"I can appreciate the sentiment," he murmured. Indeed he could - if he'd prepared any more for this interview, he'd have a dossier detailing what the woman had had for breakfast before arriving.
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Satisfied, he closed the folder with one hand, placed it on the desk, and slid it across the polished surface toward Sasha. Lacing his fingers together, he leaned forward in his seat slightly, his bright eyes finally bringing his full attention toward her. "Good morning, officially, Miss Huang."
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She didn't seem fazed by him beyond the normal discomforts of a job interview, which meant she was either underinformed about who exactly he was, or dealt well with accomplishing a given task at hand. Given her behavior thus far, he'd bet good money on the latter.
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"You've been through some screening interviews at this point, so I won't bore you with the semantics. You've been told who I am, you've been told what the position is, and we'll get to the boring bits. I'll ask predictable questions, you'll give predictable answers, and we'll reach a predictable outcome."
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He laughed at this, though the mirth didn't reach his eyes. "I'm more interested in what exactly brings you here. A personal assistant position of this caliber isn't the usual calling for an arts major. Just filling the time until you make a name for yourself?"

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Colin smiled broadly in response to Artega's comment, inclining his head in a magnanimous gesture.
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"But of course, thank you, Mister Artega."
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His words were warm enough to lull a snake to sleep.
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"I am committed to the continued success of this society, as I'm certain we all are." He surveyed those seated around the table, many of whom nodded in response. His gaze returned briefly to Artega, and he held his hands palm-up. "I must say I am honored to join a board comprised of so many illustrious members. I quite agree with Mister Artega - I'm a little surprised that sufficient funding hasn't been able to be produced with his involvement, of all people, but at least the will to do right is there, and that's what matters!"
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A few 'hear hear!'s inserted themselves around the conference room, but Colin's eyes didn't leave Artega's. "I will of course be happy to supplement, and in fact move to outline new application requirements for development so that we can have something tangible to fine-tune by the next session."
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The conversation broke into an excited murmur as Colin settled into his seat, his smile sharp enough to cut glass as he regarded the man across from him.
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Dick.

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"Ugh, must I? Really?"
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Sprawled across the seat in the rear of his limousine, Colin groaned, the magazine falling against his chest as he cast a pleading glance across the space to his Gholdengo, Bullion, who sat placidly in the seat opposite and offered a plaintive 'clink' in response.
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He sighed and corrected his posture, shaking the magazine open again as though the contents might have changed. While his networking in Hoenn had proceeded well enough when he was firmly ensconced in Kalos, his recent expansion made it even more imperative that he not only be seen, but that he was on his game more certainly than ever before.
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Rustboro Historic Preservation? Give him a break. Turning his gaze out the tinted window of his vehicle allowed him to monitor gaudy facade after gaudy facade as they drove past, neon lights clashing garishly in the distance. Rustboro's history was being eroded just like the stones they so valued, and a nonprofit wasn't about to forestall the test of time.
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Still, it made for good press, and he knew a thing or two about gaudy facades.
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"Artega is making the rounds again," he hedged once more, leaning forward to Bullion as though the pokemon would snap its nonexistent fingers and absolve him of this chore. "If I've got to sit in a room with him while centenarians wheeze for three hours, I'm not going to survive."
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He sighed again as the Gholdengo made no move to sympathize, and amended: "I'll kill him. I'll bash his stupid, smug face in with a paperweight and then they'll arrest me, and I'll expire from the shame of it." He sniffed. "He'd like that. We shouldn't give him the satisfaction."
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The limousine pulled to a stop in front of their destination, and Colin clicked open his briefcase. The Gholdengo hopped up from its seat and obligingly dissolved into a shower of golden coins that bounced neatly into the case, which Colin snapped closed and toted alongside him as he exited the vehicle.
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Only a few hours. He could put up with this for the sake of his business.

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A small smile lingered on Colin's lips as he watched the young lady enter. Presentable, yes, and punctual, but perceptive.
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His smile grew a little wider. Interesting.
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His curiosity was piqued enough that he rose from his seat as she approached, a courtesy that only a handful of those who appeared before him were presented. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Huang," he responded, returning her handshake perfunctorily as he catalogued a series of mental notes.
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Firm, but not too firm. Adherence to the usual formula spoke to her either trying to keep solid ground under her or sorely underestimating his own perceptiveness. Professional, relatively modest attire showed forethought.
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She might do.
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He accepted the folder with a little chuckle as he withdrew, returning to his seat and gesturing to one of the chairs opposite him. "Please, sit," he offered, flipping the folder open with his other hand. Scanning it briefly, he was pleased to see that nothing in the document before him was at odds with the information he'd already collected. At least she wasn't stupid enough to attempt padding her credentials.
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He returned his gaze to her, warm amusement still lingering in his tone. "You're early."

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