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"..." No comment on their literacy, though he might've reserved a choice remark.[break][break]

The brief lull allows the other a moment to explain herself, his eyes narrowing with skepticism. Despite how often he's found himself in the selfsame predicament, his expression is that of incredulity—he does not trust them at their word—but there is the question of what this ultimately changed. An already conflicted conscience loses its conviction, for a time.[break][break]

But orders are orders. Regardless of the authenticity of their claim, he is under obligation to send them off. They were an obvious security risk, both of them.[break][break]

"Sorry, I don't care what you think you're doing here..." His pokemon perk up, detecting the shift in cadence as Adrian rattles on with a final warning: "Thing is... you're not welcome."[break][break]

They couldn't be allowed to recover any artefacts, not even by happenstance as civilians. The possibility was all too real; he knew that firsthand.[break][break]

"So abandon your search, or..."[break][break]

They would be made to leave.

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Unleashed from their pokeball is a strange, unhinged-looking Primeape that he mistakes at first for some aberration spawned of the recent hatchery. When the creature whose aura unnerves him lashes out against Copperajah, it reels from the blow despite its stature, and Adrian can hear the crunch of metal crushing...[break][break]

He winces, but ultimately demonstrates misplaced confidence in his own pokemon's constitution.[break][break]

"Raj, caltrops," he barks back. The elephant rears back, its distended trunk dragging against the earthen terrain before ejecting rows and rows of rocks in randomized patterns, which shimmer before fading into the concealing mists surrounding them.[break][break]

Though the creature observes them, it remains disinclined to intervene. Adrian instead elects to grasp at a pokeball of his own, and though his heart is steady, his conscience remains ill at ease.[break][break]

Copperajah takes the field, hulking over them both.[break]

COPPERAJAH uses STEALTH ROCKS!

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Surrounded on all sides by jagged earth and an encroaching mist, Adrian finds himself flanked by a second trainer—even as he only just then confronts the original trainer ahead of him. Tch. As if he needed the added headache...[break][break]

The odds never really seemed to favor him lately.[break][break]

Fingers flex and undulate as nails find purchase against the smooth, polished surface of pokeballs latched against his waist, poorly concealed beneath the low hem of his jacket. The excess of leather and denim in his attire gives him away, perhaps.[break][break]

Their nonchalant candor amuses him slightly.[break][break]

"Don't you read the news?" He crows with a derisive aura, making his contempt for them plain, and (hopefully) dispelling any notions of his being there purely coincidental. He was an insurgent.[break][break]

The unorthodox interjection gives him the needed opening to release his pokemon, which unfurl in a brilliant flash of red, revealing a COPPERAJAH and an ORANGURU—offering a small buffer between himself and the perceived threat they present.[break][break]

ADRIAN releases COPPERAJAH![break]
ADRIAN releases ORANGURU!

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Around him pokemon lie broken, littering the environs he finds himself in. Dimly lit caverns and porous rock formations, blanketed in a fortuitous fog that clings low to the ground—pushed aside with his every stride.[break][break]

It's only for the thrum of wingbeats overhead that the interdream's veil buckles, allowing them clarity of vision. For him, it is ever so plain that Derek is the one present—a gift of the sight. Tch. He's made their acquaintance before, and is loathe to confront them, but he wasn't being given a choice. They had drawn their lines, picked their sides... It was inevitable.[break][break]

"With a smile," he offers snidely, but a lie.[break][break]

Though the creature observes them, it remains disinclined to intervene. Adrian instead elects to grasp at a pokeball of his own, and though his heart is steady, his conscience remains ill at ease.[break][break]

Copperajah takes the field, hulking over them both.

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Should he be fazed? There were many among the League who would've already made this sort of pledge to themselves, placing duty above all else. Maybe it was commendable—but rarely was he convinced, or even made to be concerned; that was his hubris.[break][break]

"Until then. Take care."[break][break]

Neither of them are comfortable allowing the other to leave their sight—any trust between them had been broken. But at least for Adrian, he could honestly breathe easier knowing Thomas had made his position plain. He'd been walking on eggshells, unsure whom to trust among former acquaintances.[break][break]

At least now, he knew what to expect.

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"..." He was done entertaining the previous discussion—time would tell if he'd later come to regret it, or have his trust in himself proven. They would find out eventually.[break][break]

It seems that any implicit questions fell on deaf ears, or that Thomas himself had nothing to share, though whether that communicated the League's ignorance was unclear—as the other had previously stated, their separation was more than just for show. Too bad.[break][break]

"Hm?" Adrian doesn't see why positives should be questioned—but again, he's dealing with someone who operates a little differently—perhaps these sorts of fixations were what kept Thomas going. Either way, it certainly wouldn't hurt to offer his own thoughts on the matter, though it mightn't help either.[break][break]

"Because it's not yet your time." Adrian can confirm it; his aura remains vibrant, if muddled by Yveltal's vestigial presence within. It's something his eyes can discern easily, though in so doing it betrays his own mark, his sclera saturated with color. Only when his eyes return to normal does he continue.[break][break]

"As for your eye... Perhaps some gifts are not so easily revoked." Nor did he think Yveltal overly concerned itself with every particular maiming or traumatic event that had been preordained either—it was bad enough with just the mortal coil to worry itself over. Besides, it wasn't about the suffering...[break][break]

It was just the natural progression of things.

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He's surprised to hear Noah's name, but as Rowan divulged him the details, it seemed more and more... appropriate. Row... How could he not have expected something like this to happen...? Adrian can recall the takeover personally, though he could only ever guess at the exacting reasons for Rowan's melancholy at the time. But now he had it all, though he knew not what to do with it.[break][break]

Anger and frustration come easy, however.[break][break]

He raises a tender hand to their cheek, thinking maybe to console them... But he does not speak to anything but his disbelief. "...What else were you expecting? A heartfelt thank you?" As if.[break][break]

Although he's something along the lines of pleasantly surprised by Rowan's pseudo-selfless ask, it all reminds him of an age old adage:[break]

No good deed goes unpunished.

To think Rowan risked throwing away so much—but he could understand all too well how it must have haunted him—given him so many sleepless nights...[break][break]

Managing himself somewhat indelicately, he chooses instead to focus on the underlying problem, rather than accusing Rowan of anything other than being a good person. Draping himself over their shoulders, he musters a light squeeze before sharing his thoughts. "You're not cut out for this, Row..."[break][break]

It wasn't always going to work out. He'd been lucky.

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It's surprising to hear Thomas speak of his withdrawal as anything other than the smokescreen Adrian would've seen it as. But he's right enough that the League had ostracized him, even if the slight had been unintentional.[break][break]

"They've learned, perhaps better than most, the risks involved." When Sootopolis was attacked by N̸͈͓̦̒̀̎͠E̷͓̹̠͗̒C̵̟͙͍͒͑R̵̰̥͒̐Ó̶͎̏Z̵̛̝̩̱M̴̨̒̈̈́͠Á̸̢̳͙ͅ, it turned their pokemon against them. This alone would've surely made many reluctant to rely on such power as could be swayed.[break][break]

Adrian had certainly been made to reconsider.[break][break]

"You're paranoid, Thomas. It's in the nature of your work," Adrian begins with a dismissive tone, making his disinterest plain. Clearly Adrian did not consider the apparent danger in trusting them, exhibiting a growing disregard for his own well being. Perhaps the threat of Rocket felt diminished by dint of his patron's boon. "You need to let it go."[break][break]

"If they even knew anything remotely useful, it still wouldn't matter." Yveltal, for all its resignations, did not deal in half measures—at least not where such aberrations were concerned. If Rocket made their move, there would be precursors—signs for them to interpret. "Besides, Thomas..."[break][break]

Adrian turns and takes an extensive, wistful stare towards the ongoing distortion where the Borderlands and Mt. Pyre have been bridged, drawing attention to what resided within—or more precisely, what was now markedly absent. "I have bigger problems than some radicals. We all do..."[break][break]

Turning his attention back to Benoit, there's a subtle curiosity therein—a part of him that wonders what the League knows. But what could they know?

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Adrian understands their exasperation, recognizing the duplicitous nature of his words. He deserves the winding speech then, though he can only manage to sit through so much before interjecting with his personal brand of crass.[break][break]

"You say that like the League would be any different!" His contempt for bias is plain. Anyone who knew of its dark purpose would, in allying with it, expect themselves to be exempt in some manner.[break][break]

Sadly even Adrian, who might've unconsciously believed such exceptions might be made for him, would eventually find himself next up to the block.[break][break]

Or worse, someone he cared for deeply. And that is precisely the sort of reason Yveltal had chosen more than one to serve. Its purpose required a flexibility that few, if any, could hope to facilitate.[break][break]

"IF. They haven't had a hand in it for some time," he muttered, though it was something he should have kept to himself. If the League had been unaware, they had just as well been tipped off.[break][break]

"I honestly can't even remember..." Had there been a conversation between him and Gavin, concerning any lack of full disclosure? It remained out of memory, but he was certain there must've been something—they weren't the sort to overlook this sort of... discretion. But what could they do?[break][break]

Adrian couldn't just be 'disciplined' like most of their contemporaries, and unless they took this act of witholding as some transgression, then all they could do was wait until something else forced the issue further. Until then, he could still be an asset.

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Yveltal's presence at the summit recedes, like shadows slinking into their corners as it defers to Adrian. To him, it seems as though Thomas' outburst was only natural. He might admit that he felt similarly, in some respects...[break][break]

"Because that's not who I am," he mustered, though perhaps the words felt false slipping past his teeth, as he did not feel the sincerity in them himself.[break][break]

"Horrible things will be asked of me, and I will be expected to facilitate them." They both knew of the creature's fixation with its work. When the time came, whether it was commissioner or underboss, stranger or close companion—[break][break]

It would need to be done all the same.[break][break]

"But that doesn't mean I enjoy it."[break][break]

He would take things as they came, involve himself only as needed or served his interests personally.[break][break]

But there is part of him that does enjoy it, he neglects to realize. Not the tasks he must carry out, but the privilege of power associated with it, and the possibilities that follow for paying the toll...