Matias isn't too keen to reveal what might be considered classified League information and Skyler doesn't pry any further. Still, a sliver of frustration nestles in her ribcage, not at the missing information but due to a creeping sense of doubt. She's done well so far as a neutral entity - but what if that meant missed opportunities in the future?

Skyler quickly squashes any further thoughts, and shrugs.

"I thought it would be something of the kind. Just..." A pause, silver growing dark with memories of two separate conflicts. "Warn the civilians, if you can." She was aware that Sootopolis - including its citizens - had shifted its loyalties.

"I've caught a few anti-League conversations in the docks in Lilycove." It could mean nothing, but the idea that her home city, Lilycove, would become another Sootopolis sends chills down her spine.

When she turns her eyes to the sea, it's to catch the rare sight of a purple Lapras, lazying around in the shallows. Slightly dazed, she has one of her Wailord Water Spout it. Its cries of surprise are cut short as Skyler throws a pokeball at it. 

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

"it's just you and me, girl."

The bloodthirsty crowd becomes an inconsequential backdrop to the woman in front of her, their jeers and taunts failing to reach past the live wire that comes alive under Skyler's skin. She becomes intimately aware of the oxygen that slips cold past her throat, of the shifting of muscle as she readies herself, of the fabric that stretches tightly around her knuckles. Pristine white, unlike that of Parker's.

Not for long, Skyler hopes.

Silver finds itself edging the sharp relief of Parker's grin, helplessly drawn to the silent challenge. Arrogance and violence vying for supremacy in the lopsided curl of her own lips.

"Don't you dare go easy on me, Pinkie."

This, Skyler thinks, is what it feels like to be gloriously alive.

And then a fist comes for her face and Skyler barely dodges to the side. A growl rips its way out of her lips, calve muscles straining as she moves out of the way. An intelligent fighter would suss out their opponent, would learn the way they move, turn it against them.

Skyler gives herself no time to do these things. Her hand coils into a fist as she steps boldly into Parker's personal space. She makes no attempts to play nice, or to protect herself, as she rotates her hips to drive an uppercut to the woman's solar plexus.

"It probably could." Skyler grins proudly, giving the bottle a little shake for good measure. She'd procured these ones from a Lilycove fisherman. According to the guy, it'd been distilled in his basement - an auspicious story for anyone who was looking to get gloriously blackout drunk.

Of course, she says none of this to Melody.

"How is it any of your fault that you were abducted by Rocket?" A frown creases the skin between Skyler's eyebrows as she turns to Melody, affronted on the woman's behalf. And slightly worried over her apparent loss of memory. "Who's this Rowan? Friend of yours? Cousin? Brother?" The captain leans down to grin playfully at Melody, wiggling her eyebrows. "... Secret lover?"

A shrug, followed by a brief sip of tequila. "'Least he's okay. D'you know if he's forgotten stuff too?" Because if Rocket had that kind of power...

Skyler masks her grimace behind the bottle of tequila, taking her time to answer Melody's question. Leaning back against a rock, she allows a loud sigh to escape. "I don't have a strong opinion on the League." Yes, she did. But she kept the truth locked behind her teeth; she was nowhere drunk enough to spill the beans. 

"Why the question?"

"Am I?"

Backing down isn't an option. The captain's all too enamored with the thrill of skirting the edge, of taking just one step too far. 

Why else would she come here?

Pinkie's approach is met with a casual sort of defiance, feet stubbornly rooted in the ground even when the towel hits her shoulder. Even when the ponding of her heart echoes in her ears like drums of war. Boom. Boom. Boom. Dry mouth. Dilated pupils. Head tilted back. A slow, deliberate smirk that begs for trouble. 

"Are you wrong places, Pinkie?"

Skyler hopes she is. 

Because Parker's right: people are different animals when they burrow into these places - and Skyler's no exception. She's more herself.

"Good." Teeth flash out, tinged wild and euphoric. Liquid mercury follows Parker all the way to the ring, uncaring for whoever had just vacated it. Skyler soon follows, taking Parker's towel with her; she wasn't a complete savage, after all.

Rebellious curls are wrestled into a ponytail, but a few errant strands of hair escape regardless. One level above, a few of the patrons seem to notice the fight about to happen. Money changes hands. Bets are placed. A few rude jeers float down to the ring; Skyler gives them the middle finger.

"What d'you figure your odds are, Pinkie?" 

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

Any modicum of smugness trickles away from Skyler's expression at the word. What is exposed instead, there one second and gone the next, is something raw and furious. Something that scrapes against her nerves in a way that is not entirely unpleasant.

And as she bares her teeth at Parker, any semblance of civility promptly shoved out the door, she finds herself craving more of it.

She hasn't fought KING WAYLAND , but they've shared drinks - and if there's any universal truth to Skyler's life, it's that she does savagery and debauchery equally well. 

A blade-sharp gaze flicks over parted lips, lingering a second before lazily inching its way up to meet Parker's own.

"Shame. I thought you'd be some fun at least."

It sounds like a dare. It sounds like an invitation. 

Gavin's laughter tells a story Skyler isn't too keen on repeating herself. The captain would forge her own path for as long as she could - and after that? If opportunities laid beyond the scope of her reaching arms? 

The notion is battered aside like a flimsy spiderweb, stubborn denial taking its place. She'd gotten herself here so far, hadn't she? Why would that change?

She doesn't see herself in Gavin, she tells herself as her gaze drifts away from his. Pride and arrogance and fear casting a sliver of doubt into her heart.

No. They're different. She's different. 

"I can agree with that." She wasn't thinking of sinking Rocket ships anytime soon - not unless she had rightful cause to.

"There's another matter I'd like to speak to you about." 

Silver cuts razor-sharp to Gavin's gold, searching, along with the slow curve of a smirk.

"Would Rocket be interested in having in their employ a freelance treasure hunter and ship captain?"

She was already publicly employed by the League despite her civilian status, wasn't she? It was only fair she offered her skills to Rocket too.

One would usually find Captain Skyler Dross haunting the rowdy seaside pubs at the end of the day. Tonight, however, the night is inky dark and the wind bites cold at her exposed skin as she makes her way through familiar filthy alleys.

If there's any satisfaction to be found tonight, she knows, it won't be at the bottom of a bottle. 

Relief comes with the deep bass that rattles through her bones, with the gauze wrapped tightly around her knuckles, with the promise of violence that lingers at the edge of the hungry gazes around her. She takes it all in with a deep, satisfied inhale. Wets her lips in anticipation as she surveys her surroundings.

Tonight she wants blood. Whether that be hers or someone else's she doesn't care to know. Or maybe it doesn't really matter.

Skyler's a regular here, which means that new faces are immediately recognizable. And it also means that her gaze soon catches that of a certain pinkette.

Lips quirk up into something too feral to be something as civilized as a smile. Teeth flashing sharp, hungry, taunting. 

By her side, her hands coil into closed fists.

"Done playin' with the little kiddies, Pinkie?"