dominic breathes out sharply - an amused scoff - and pulls away with something of a smirk. the response is so quintessentially marcel; sullen, cavalier and so very conceited. he lets his gaze linger on the man, an eyebrow raised in something between a question and an accusation.

"i can’t take all the credit," dominic sneers as he fiddles with his phone.

he extends his arm for his garchomp to see as small holographic projections of seviper, arbok and silicobra flicker to life. describing the pokemon with words would be just a waste of time. turning slightly, dominic gives marcel’s weavile an opportunity to identify their targets as well and then pockets the phone.

immediately, the garchomp snarls an acknowledgement and lunges forward, hurtling through the dust and sand in search for something to pin down and bring back to its trainer in its vicious maw.

dominic is still for a heartbeat until he looks back to marcel. "come along," he says, uncharacteristically saccharine, as though talking to a child. "we’re in for a show."

marcel maeda

Dominic narrows his eyes but a ghost of a half-smile makes itself known. At least the man apparently shares his thought process with respect to Pokemon training, although that’s probably the only place where their views align.

He watches the Galarian Meowth’s display with a latent interest, cocking his head sideways. At Calcifet’s words he takes a few half-hearted (and perhaps less than steady) steps backwards.

"What, are you going to just spray water on it from a hose?" Dominic drawls, quirking a brow. That would be… some sort of answer, he supposes. He would prefer the direct approach - that is, beating the Snorlax into submission. Even his drink-addled brain can comprehend that drawing attention himself by viciously attacking a Pokemon in a populated area is a bad idea, so he may as well let this play out.

"Show me what you’ve got, Calcifet," Dominic says with a sigh, dropping the name intentionally to see how his counterpart reacts.

Remiel Calcifet

further along the desire path, snaking through a copse of trees, dominic sees a handful of tyrogue training. he watches them for a few moments through narrowed eyes, contemplative, but decides against catching any.

he turns away and continues down following the line of trees. his departure garners from interest from the tyrogue so he speeds up. at least they had the sense to populate the area with relatively small, docile pokemon that don't chase down the visitors.

skipping

he continues walking along a path until he reaches some sort of pond. this place seems a little more active at least. dominic sees a familiar yellow head poking out the water's surface.

"i know what you are," dominic says in a low voice as he readies a pokeball and tosses it at the psyduck. the capsule smacks the pokemon on the bill and it seems a little offended as the red light consumes it.

capturing

Dominic rejoins Samuel, carrying a heavy-looking crate in his arms. He dumps it in the back of one of their trucks unceremoniously and ignores the exclamation from one of their engineers. It’ll be fine, steel is sturdy.

At Samuel’s question he spins around, eyes widening for a moment. Dominic gives a bark of laughter and leaps into the truck in a fluid motion, busying himself with stacking the boxes for a few seconds before responding.

"I was underboss for a number of years below Silas," he says eventually, gaze flickering back up to Samuel, studying his features closely in the gloom to try to gauge his reaction.

"And then we got rid of him." He shrugs as if it’s nothing even worth noting, just another mundane power-shift within Rocket.

"You looking to get promoted? Just ask, I hear that’s all it takes at this point," Dominic says, shooting Samuel a toothy grin. Headlights bobbing in the distance catch his attention and he curses as he slips from the back of the truck and slams the doors shut.

"Next one, then?"

Samuel Boothe

"I collect the Pokemon," Dominic says with a thin smile. Whether it be hauling them from their natural habitats through force or breaking them out of a Pokemon Center - that’s closer to his area of expertise, and it shows.

He fixes Asher with a meaningful glance and inclines his head to the side slightly. "And if things get messy…" Dominic trails off, raising a shoulder in a half-shrug.

"I just make sure I- we get what we want. I’m guessing you’re the same."

Asher Graham

Dominic’s role in the exchange is simple; supervise, facilitate, ensure it all goes as intended and Rocket gets its cut. His mere threat is meant to be an implicit threat, but money is exchanged and everyone fulfils their part.

Standing with Asher at the docks, Dominic becomes acutely aware of the fact that dealing with their sponsors, striking deals and the like, had been something he never had a hand in even when he was underboss. In sum, Dominic spoke with violence and lacks his counterpart’s refined tact. He regards him for a moment through half-lidded eyes before speaking.

"Of course," Dominic says slowly, and then he continues as though trying to piece together words from a script. "I hear you’ve been very generous and I’m sure our administration wouldn’t want to lose you."

Asher Graham

large yellow eyes watch the inkay join with a small group playing tag - seamless and natural in its approach. for the first time in its life, the bronzor is acutely aware that it is not very "cute" in any sense of the word, and the feeling makes it vaguely self-conscious.

it buries deeper into the dirt and shuffles closer unaware that it is in fact a very obvious mound moving under the ground like a diglett.

hearing the other pokemon singing earlier, the bronzor figures maybe it can introduce itself the same way. it spins to unearth itself and emits a METAL SOUND in greeting. the noise the bronzor produces is frankly grating and forces the playing pokemon to recoil, not that the steel-type notices. blissfully unaware, the bronzor floats around cheerfully, continuing its awful screeching. it would smile if it could.

oscar clayton

dominic catches the way asher's gaze lingers and responds with a quirk of his lips, a razor-sharp half-smile. now this is interesting - and the man has money.

"great. this your first time having a hand in the business? i'll show you to the shipmaster at the docks," dominic says, jerking his head behind him.

"that's who the money goes to. the rest will need to be sent when the shipment reaches johto."

at the eye contact with its counterpart, dominic's houndoom tenses and bares its teeth in a silent snarl. unwilling to deal with a tantrum, dominic recalls it with a flick of the wrist. not like the pokemon would be much help actually carrying the crates.

Asher Graham

eventually dominic finds his way to some sort of grove, but by that point he has started getting thoroughly irritated.

the sun feels scorching and all the creatures that supposedly occupy the safari had apparently sought shelter. that's the only explanation for the complete absence of any wild pokemon.

alternatively, the safari is a scam and he is going to have to beat the warden until he gets his money back.

lost in such thoughts, dominic almost doesn't see the the set of yellow eyes peering at him from the gloom. at this point, he doesn't know or care what the pokemon is - he just wants to catch something. he throws one of the capsules at it with pin-point accuracy.

capturing!

the smell of acrid smoke follows dominic like a ghost. he knows it's all in his head - for this moment, the warehouse is empty save him, his houndoom, and the crates with capsules containing thousands of pokedollars worth of stolen pokemon.

he hears footsteps and turns, eyes narrowing at the newcomer's smirk. he thinks he knows this type of man and it not so much puts him on edge but it does force a grating sigh from his lungs.

when he speaks, dominic's gaze sweeps him up and down as though appraising him, and then settles on the outstretched hand. he takes it, his grip slightly more forceful than probably needed.

"dominic sinclair, procurer. you know the terms? 50% now and 50% on delivery."

he inclines his head to look at asher's houndoom with the same evaluating glance. "nice."

Asher Graham