Haven't seen it, will let you know if I do.
Stay safe, Fernando.

Dazed by the brilliance of @cyril's playful grin, Orion doesn't register their closeness until the Kalosian has flung an arm around him to physically guide him away from the press. It's at that point that his brain all but short-circuits, anxiety overloading his thoughts like a blown fuse.

Ushered into the back of a vehicle that even smells expensive, Orion blinks several times as if to pull himself from the daze.

"You smell nice," is spoken off-hand and immediately regretted, blush flooding his cheeks. But he doesn't take it back. Cyril does smell nice, like spice and flowers.

"No," he admits of Purple Miltank, "but I've heard of it."

A lot of his colleagues liked to dine there for work brunches; it was exactly the sort of expensive fare he could see Silph organizing. Orion, on the other hand, spent most of his not inconsiderable salary on maintaining the large array of Pokémon he kept and rehabilitated.

"It sounds nice," he adds, to confirm he's on board.

"Because it is a burden," Orion agrees; his tired eyes support the way he stresses the words. "Only seems glamorous from the outside."

Sometimes, not even then. The media liked to pick them apart like the vultures they were, and often Orion couldn't find he blamed them. He didn't always agree to the decisions that were settled on, but that came with the territory of being part of a whole.

He chuckles, then, softens the words with, "Unless you're Kim, then it's always glamorous." Yet in spite of his words, he wouldn't trade it, even if it was tempting after seeing how much better FERNANDO SILPH looked.

FERNANDO SILPH @gina kim cole-essam

"Liberation looks good on you," Orion admits, soft, his laugh as gentle as his voice. "Never seen you look this happy before. Makes me wish I could quit, ha."

Gina arrives, sparing them further small talk. The shy councilman greets her with a dip of his head and a smile.

"Miss Gray." Fernando compliments her, so Orion only extends a hand. "Orion Lykos. It's good to meet you."

She knows, he's sure; you didn't run for council without knowing those you'd be sitting with. At least, he certainly hadn't. But it was polite to introduce himself anyways, he thinks, and so he does.

Kim arrives in typical Kim fashion, and Orion's grown accustomed to his antics enough to chuckle at the dramatic pose rather than cringe back in horror. He might've been ridiculous, but he was smart and took the job serious when the need arose. That was the part that mattered.

"Hey, Kim. I love the look." He smirks, lips pursed with laughter.

Orion orders a seafood platter, curious about their selection.

FERNANDO SILPH @gina kim cole-essam

While not as early as Silph, Orion arrives before the specified time with tired eyes and a tired smile. In the absence of Fernando, his job was more difficult than before, but he bears no resentment toward his former colleague. If anything, he envies his freedom.

"Hey, Fernando." His soft voice carries well in the quiet. "How've you been?"

He orders a cherry blossom martini and frets with the edge of a folded napkin as they wait for the others to arrive.

No matter how long he'd held the council position, no matter how many new people he met, it never failed to inspire anxiety. What was she going to be like? Was she more of a Fern or an Olivia? What were her personal reasons for running?

He won't ask, but he wonders.

FERNANDO SILPH @gina kim cole-essam

As Hoenn's central city, its hub, Slateport bears many scars of battle and betrayal. From Rocket's invasion to the New Years disaster to the Blackout that had taken parts of a city block whole.

Memorials stand in remembrance of lives lost and battles fought, and the League tends to them where they can.

Orion's not here on official duty, not today, but the memorial at the Night Market is one he always makes a point to visit. It spoke solemnly of the lives lost to Blacephalon's brutality, standing on the site of one of its exploded bombs. Ordinarily, it's quiet here during the day. The Market so named because it comes alive in the evening hours, and not before.

Not today. The councilman frowns as he spots a figure atop the marble.

"Hey!" His Silvally barks as if to echo his cry. "What are you doing up there?"

@zora

A bouquet is shoved toward him, and Orion nearly drops both it and the sensitive documents he already had on hand. Thankfully for both his embarrassment and his job, he barely manages to keep hold of both.

Flustered, it takes several seconds for him to register the intrusion.

"Oh — Cyril."

The guilt is immediate. He hadn't called like the other had asked him to. It had started out as simply being too busy to schedule a date, and then he'd been too nervous, and by the time he was feeling desperate enough, it felt as if it had already been far too long and surely the handsome, charming @cyril had already found some other pretty thing to flirt with.

But he's here, instead, looking downright bashful, and Orion sees both a second chance and a perfect excuse to get the hell away from the cameras.

"Please," he agrees, breathless.

Emma Wolfe is a practiced assassin, and her plan is executed almost perfectly.

Distracted by the droning hum, which sounds as if it's getting closer, louder, Orion does not hear the gunshot. The disaster which will soon befall them is not natural, and thus Absol is given no warning before the net tangles its limbs.

Silvally is the outlier.

Bred to fight Ultra Beasts and the veteran of war, Silvally will not be so easily bested. Almost as if on reflex, its brilliant crest glows with the energy of an AERIAL ACE to slice through the bindings and cut itself free. It snarls, gums pulled back to reveal sharp fangs coated in hoarfrost. It springs toward the closest foe to attack.

Orion stumbles back in surprise, trips as stick webs entangle his limbs. But his concern is not for himself, but his Pokémon.

"Flamethrower!" he cries, struggling against the web. "Who the hell are you?"

But the brilliant flames of Absol's would-be escape are doused by Araquanid's bubble.

Orion's Pokémon are stalwart, brave in the face of danger, but they are not invincible. The ghost-type specialization of his mystery foe bests his beloved psychic partners, and they fall one by one.

Alakazam, already wounded, takes an arrow before its FUTURE SIGHT comes to pass. Whatever it had seen in its visions would be left unknown.

Espeon seals her own fate with the brilliance of the sun, the flamethrower's heat burning hot and bright. Yet it is not the flamethrower that downs her, but the dark pulse of energy that follows in its wake. The delicate feline lets out a horrible yowl of pain as the dark energy assaults her mind. She stumbles back toward her trainer, desperately seeking comfort, then slumps onto her paws.

Lanturn doesn't wake, brought down by an assault from the shadows.

Already vulnerable from grief and anxiety, Orion's mind is open to the Spiritomb's influence. He fights it for as long as he can, but his limbs turn leaden and his eyelids droop, and a distant silhouette is the only thing he manages to glean before his mind succumbs.

Pheromosa is young, and struggles little. Its small form rests in the grass, undefended.

Katherine Fairburne

His heart flutters like a giddy schoolgirl's when he hears the word date, fresh colour rising in his cheeks to betray him. He doesn't know whether he feels more anxiety or excitement. The end result is the same: pulse racing, breath caught, stomach sick. It was a good thing he was sitting down.

And just as quick as it had started, their chance encounter is over.

"O-Oh," he says, surprised, still recovering from d-a-t-e. "Okay, um, take care."

Arceus, he was terrible at this. He'd be fretting over it for weeks. Maybe years.

@cyril would glance over his shoulder to see Orion staring after him in wonder and disbelief, quickly turning pink and looking away the moment he realises he's been caught. He isn't wrong: Orion is absolutely, hopelessly hooked.

In spite of his best attempts to maintain composure, the councilman flinches as Celia Auclair slams her hands down on his desk. A half-drunk cup of coffee tips over on the desk, liquid spreading rapidly. Orion scrambles to shove any electronics out of harms way, fumbling for a box of tissues that rarely saw use.

All the fight seems to leave Blackadder after her expression of rage, and the back of Orion's neck prickles as he hears her sniffle.

Oh no, he frets, what do I do?

Tossing coffee-soaked tissues into an otherwise empty waste basket beside his desk, Orion nudges the box within reach of Celia. His professionalism seems to have abated in wake of the awkward pause, and he looks more worried than anything else.

"I'm sorry," he says, and means it. "I can put you in touch with the ambassador, if you'd like. We can figure out where your son went after meeting with him."

These days, Orion barely has the spare time to breathe.

The upcoming AQUA initiative had a lot of legal hoops to jump through, and it was his job to ensure they didn't have lawsuits on their hands before or afterward. On top of that, Rocket's return had the public swarming the offices insisting everyone and their mother had to be an undercover Rocket, because Karen was a goddamn bitch and there's no way someone that evil wasn't working for a criminal empire.

His head hurts, he's stressed, and he's not paying any attention to his surroundings as he slouches out of his Lilycove office and into the sticky Hoennian air. Sunglasses do their best to shield the bags under his eyes, some important document or another clutched desperately in his right hand to be used as a shield should he be assaulted by a member of the press.