“Jacinthe…” Arms crossed, the shorter man glaring up at her. “…Have you been littering?”

“You act as if you don’t enjoy my visits, Jacinthe.” Arms shifting to rest at his sides as he relaxes, a small grin on his lips. Reaching a hand up to adjust his glasses. “Why else would I always get invited to your tournaments?”

“Tch… I don’t have to be tall to be intimidating—” 💢

Eye twitch. “Watch yourself, ‘professor—’”

“You are… irritating me—” He huffs with frustration, hands resting in his hips. “And you can’t hide in your lab forever.”

“Tch… You can’t hide on tall pieces of furniture forever!!” Stomping his foot a few times. “I’ll get you one day, even if I have to wait until you’re in an open field!”

Reclining in his office chair and shutting his eyes, slowly sipping on a hot cup of tea. Trying to relax… 💢

Grumbling to himself for a moment, running a hand through his hair as he tries to calm himself. “Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot, ‘professor.’ I have no reason to quarrel with researchers—” Glaring a bit, arms crossed. He’s totally not conceding right now, definitely not.

He blinks. “Tasks…? I’m not one of your junior researchers or whatever they call ‘em—”

“Yes, but they are /my/ goons, not yours. They have other assignments that /I/ have given them.” H u f f. “I need some form of compensation better than TMs if you want me to use Syndicate resources.”

. . . “Why do you have a condom in your wallet—?”

corbeau has a soft spot for the children of lumiose

Nearly choking on his own spit, his face turning bright red. “Ah, I… see—” Eyes darting off to the side as he clears his throat.

A view only a select few are ever graced with… 💜

Clearly growing frazzled, his entire face red as a tomato. “I— You— I don’t often presume or spend much time thinking about such things with people I hardly know—!!” Pulling his fogging-up glasses off his face to wipe them on his coat. H u f f.

B l i n k. “I— I’m still not having my people do your tasks without proper payment—!” 💢

He’s out and about, taking advantage of the quiet nighttime streets to walk and think undisturbed.

. . . “You’re staring.”

He lets out soft groan as he rubs the back of his neck, grimacing. “Hmph… I need a softer mattress, or something…” A little yawn.