[Rank C is damn impressive and yet they find it a disappointment for their own daughter... Well, it seems like they aren't pleased by much of anything here, as evidenced by Themida's outburst. Corbeau's eyes immediately flick to Jacinthe and he watches as impassively as he can as that anger is turned on her. It's cruel to put the servants' jobs on her shoulders, but perhaps Jacinthe stands a better chance of making exactly what her mother likes, though that expression...
Well, it's not like he's really in a place to intervene. Rusco has his attention now and Corbeau smiles at the request.]
I'd be honored.
[Corbeau figured Rusco would be strong. He did not figure for the man using exactly one Pokémon, not even switching in the face of Barbaracle, which double resists Fire. Houndoom made short work of the poor guy anyway with Solarbeam, and the rest of Corbeau's team falls to a combination of Nasty Plot, Flamethrower, and Thunder Fang just to take care of Gyarados.
In the end, Arbok lasts for just a bit longer thanks to a lucky Leech Life crit, but it's not enough. It's a sound defeat. He'd be lying if he said it felt good, because it's rare he's ever crushed so thoroughly. Battles are best when there's give-and-take - not a complete one-sided victory, regardless of which side he's on.
He knew that these two were dangerous, but this only proves it. Exceptionally skilled battlers on top of all that money? Yeah, definitely not the sort of people he wants to cross paths with. Jacinthe was right, but leaving her alone with them still gets his hackles raised, so he can't say he made the wrong decision. Not yet, anyway.]
Impressive. Your Houndoom is exceptionally well-trained. I haven't been defeated so badly in quite some time. Thank you for the battle.
[Rusco is calm and collected as the battle starts, dark eyes not even coming to life in the face of battle like most would likely assume; his smile is as chipper and dandy as ever, but there's a sort of practiced grace and calculating precision as he commands his partner in battle. Members of the SBC are not just good at battle; they're trained to be the very best, to bring out the strength of their own Pokemon. They're the elite, the leaders.
And they'll crush anyone in their way.
It's his hat that carries his keystone as he brings it to his chest, not even flinching an inch as Houndoom mega evolves and tears through Corbeau's team. Even still, by the very end and with the energy wearing off of Houndoom as he goes back to his normal form, perhaps surprisingly (considering their disregard for their daughter), Houndoom is given gentle treatment and petting for his work in the battle. For as inhuman as they almost definitely are to some extent, he winds up giving the dog some gentle affection for his work.]
Well, I'll be...haven't had anyone give me a run for my money like this in a damn long time! [...That is, in fact, approval, his laughter's surprisingly bright--it doesn't reach the man's eyes, but he'll walk on over and at least give Corbeau the means to heal his team out of respect.] Corbeau, right? Your team's a little unbalanced, yes, but I do see potential in you. I sure can see why old Phillipe let you succeed him.
You have the makings of a fine battler, Mr. Corbeau. I suppose if my daughter wishes to associate with you for the time being, I can allow it. I really do hope you end up finding the scoundrel responsible for taking this fun away from you...
Might is truly what makes right in this world, after all. Long as you remember that, everything will be square.
[...well, it was almost heartwarming. That's gotta count for something, right???]
[Maybe battling is almost like a job to him. Maybe it isn't something he takes enjoyment in. And yet his words seem to argue that point, though there's no denying that he didn't look alive while fighting either... It's unnerving.
Corbeau accepts the healing items and sets about doing just that, quietly thanking each member of his team as he returns them to their Pokéballs. At the very least Rusco seems to value his Houndoom quite a bit. That's something, though his words leave a lot to be desired...]
Thank you for the compliment. I know I still have a lot to learn.
[Philippe... No, now isn't the time to let any of that slip.]
And you have my thanks for the advice as well. Shall we return?
[Rusco seems... marginally more agreeable than his wife, but there's no telling if he also has enrage buttons that can be pressed like she does. Hopefully Jacinthe is faring alright...]
Yes, let's. I'm sure my bleeding hearted doll will be finished with my dearest's tea preparations by now.
[There's that word again, and there's a distinct lack of anything that seems to indicate worry; Jacinthe will either succeed, or she won't. It really is as simple as that, as Rusco leads the way back.
And sure enough, Jacinthe has seemingly got everything all ready and prepared--by the time they're back, Jacinthe has managed a surprisingly complex process for making sure the tea is perfect at the table while Rusco sits down and watches. Themida watches while smoking--seems to be on her third of those long, stupid cigarettes now, and the tablecloth looks stained with the ashes of it to say the least. But her stare is cold and unnerving as Jacinthe works, her hands a touch shaky as she manages the pour needed, the Enigma Berry tea turning out perfect as she puts in the precise amount of sugar and milk...
She waits with bated breath while her mother takes the first sip. Her eyes close, and briefly, Jacinthe feels hopeful; that's usually a good sign when her Mother has to actually think, and maybe this time, maybe this time, she can have her Mother's approval--]
W-Well, Mother? What do you think? I truly do hope you find it to your liking...
[Jacinthe's desperate in a way she never allows anyone to see as silence hangs over the garden, and--
It's with a swift and harsh motion that the tea in the cup is thrown in her daughter's face--sending her practically crumpling to the ground, trying to get it off her face because it's hot, it stings and it hurts--]
Adequate. Your servants can keep their jobs, and you, can take their punishment in their place. [If otherwise unimpeded, she's going to actually pour herself another cup.] But I expected better from you. You are an elite, Jaci; not some mere rabble groveling for the chance to bask in our glory.
Start acting like one.
[Jacinthe shakes on the ground, and it's hard to tell if she's trying not to cry or...honestly, given the full body shaking, trying to refrain from attacking her Mother; Houndoom's tail is up at the ready, either way.]
Edited (wording.........also my dude you put them in the garden--) 2025-10-25 01:42 (UTC)
[There's that phrase again. Is it supposed to be some kind of nickname? It's a truly terrible one. In their eyes, "bleeding heart" is clearly an insult, and "doll" strikes him the wrong way. If they wanted a doll, why not just purchase one? Surely that would prove to serve them better than having a thinking, feeling person. But Corbeau hides the mounting irritation and follows, though he can't stop himself from frowning as they return - and that expression quickly goes dark following Themida's actions.
(Jacinthe seemed so small and uncertain of herself, so desperate to win her mother's affections—)
Adequate, she said. And this is her response to adequate? This is her punishment? Why? Because things didn't go just so? The same burning fury and hatred that used to haunt him when he was just a desperate kid builds and builds and builds and Corbeau forces himself to exhale slowly, closing his eyes and trying to get the image of Jacinthe's shaking form out of his mind.
No. Fighting them isn't an option. He knows how to pick his battles, and if Rusco is this strong with one Pokémon, there's no telling how impossible it'll be to battle both with their full teams. Even if Themida isn't as skilled a battler (doubtful), Corbeau doubts his and Jacinthe's odds against Rusco - and that's even assuming Jacinthe would fight her father. No. Better not to cause too many waves.
But he can't stand idly by either. Call him a bleeding heart, but he won't have Jacinthe believe she's all on her own anymore. Not here, not now.
Corbeau crosses the courtyard to kneel beside Jacinthe, offering her a hand up without a word. He doesn't trust that her parents won't hear it somehow, and right now he thinks the most important thing for her is just knowing that she isn't facing this alone. It isn't much - it isn't enough - but it'll have to do for now.]
[Jacinthe wants to cry. She wants to snap into a million pieces, for her parents to finally get bored of this affair and leave; they've only ever left on their own terms before, either when they had their fill of tormenting the servants (or her, whenever she would at least try to take some heat off of them, because even if they are expendable, she took a shine to some of them like favorite toys--), or when the Spinarak and Ariados were finished invading every nook and cranny of her privacy. She's been used to it for so long, hating it, and it feels like everything about her is being exposed like this. Everything she doesn't want, everything that isn't the perfect little image she's tried so hard to sell to others.
She wants to hurt them, too. She'd usually take those feelings out on the staff after, because as much as she hates the way her parents act toward them, she doesn't have any way of letting go of that anger that's healthy. She can't fight and win against her parents; Themida's team handily counters hers, and her father's more than apt to join in with the Houndoom she's always been a little intimidated of...
It feels like all is lost, and her face still stings even after drying it off--she's going to need to wash this outfit thoroughly when she looks, but she doesn't dare for a moment, trying to choke everything back so she can smile like she always does and fit back into the role she was meant to be--
But when she looks up, she doesn't merely see her scornful parents; she sees something she doesn't expect with wide eyes when she sees Corbeau offering her a hand. She's constantly been trying to tell him to run away, to stay away from these people and their games; she never wanted him to see this. Or maybe really, she just didn't want him to see her like this because of her pride. It's a form of undressing, really, that she's never allowed anyone to see. Meetings with her parents like this were always private affairs, and the staff would know to avoid Jacinthe like the plague unless they wanted to be subject to her whims, but...
It likely says something, that Jacinthe is completely dumbstruck by Corbeau's gesture for a moment as she tries to keep herself from a more extreme emotional reaction; almost nervously, she takes his hand like a lifeline, clinging to his hand for a couple seconds even after managing to get up, and her look is so very grateful to him for it. If her parents weren't around, she'd probably cling even longer, but...
While Rusco drinks his tea in relative silence, curious but unmoved by the man's gesture, Themida's own look goes dark, but somehow very, very amused. Back to something a little too confident, but well. Isn't this interesting.]
[Jacinthe has never looked so small, so afraid. This was likely one of the reasons why she wanted him to leave - she didn't want him to see her like this. She didn't want him to see her at her weakest, unable to fight back or control the situation, completely out of her depth. She's always maintained such a carefully curated image, and this completely shatters it.
Unfortunate for her, then, that this just so happens to paint her in a more understandable light in Corbeau's eyes. This explains damn near everything about her.
She wants control because she has none with her family. She wants perfection because she was trained to pursue it. She wants power because she has to live up to those ridiculously high standards. And she doesn't know how else to handle it when things don't go her way, so she acts out. That fearsome temper of hers is clearly inherited; and how would she know to control it, when her parents certainly don't?
Corbeau can't relate, not really. He never had to deal with anything like this. He doesn't have a family to deal with - a blessing in this case, it would seem. But he understands enough to see how this has shaped Jacinthe and continues to shape her, and he understands that she can't (won't?) fight just yet. Maybe someday when she's stronger, but not right now.
He lets go of her hand when she does and Corbeau turns his attention back to Themida. There's no hiding his expression now; it's still hard, still irritated.]
Helping a potential business partner. Is that a problem?
[If it were just him on the line, he would've been willing to risk another loss. Maybe he even would've called her a friend. But he can't put Jacinthe in the line of fire any more than she's already been, so he's still trying. It's damn difficult with these two, but maybe they'll get bored and leave soon. They've bullied their daughter enough for one day, haven't they?]
[It's strange how in this moment, she feels like she can trust Corbeau so very much more than she has with most. She's always ignored her problems, simply praying her parents would be too busy--that she could just keep living that beautiful, lovely lie of a life all but a few times a year that all was okay and as she wanted it. But even so, she worries; she's never been defended like this. Most know better. Lebanne knew better, and learned to just take her lady's anger after these infuriating visits because inciting her parent's anger--or even worse, their interest--was too dangerous. And...
Jacinthe can't help but fear for Corbeau, that he's taking this chance to let her know she isn't alone--and that she's staying close by, almost hiding behind him like the scared girl she wishes she wasn't. Because she is scared. She's scared of her parents, she's scared of her father's Houndoom, and god forbid that dog see a reason to go on the attack and hurt him--]
And what exactly do you think she needs help with, if you don't mind my asking?
[Themida doesn't move from her spot, but her cold, dead eyes stare at Corbeau with an almost bemused interest. That he would try and protect their little figurehead, their little Queen piece that they could tell to do anything, and she'd do it.
Might does make right in this world, and they're the mightiest of all. They can demand what they want, and exact whatever toll they see fit.
But Themida can't help but be amused, but her amusement is so self assured. It's like she's staring at a bunch of Weedle trying to make a stand like the vermin they are. There's something dark in her tone too, and she even seems to put her cigarette down for the moment, resting her head upon that newly freed hand with a soulless smile.]
Perhaps calling you a busybody earlier was an understatement. Now it just sounds like you're butting your nose in where it doesn't belong, boy.
Sure, maybe it doesn't. But you did ask if I wanted to stay, after all.
[This is absolutely not entirely on him, take responsibility!!! Corbeau shrugs, one shoulder lifting casually. He's noticed that Jacinthe remains behind him now and that makes it obvious: she really is frightened. There isn't truly a lot he can do to protect her, but she's someone in need of help, and Corbeau simply isn't the type to turn a blind eye.]
I was just helping her back to her feet. There's no fault with that, is there?
[He wants to spit venom, to let his true feelings be known - but this isn't about him. This is about Jacinthe and getting through this meeting for her sake. Everything else can come afterwards.]
That was with the assumption that you'd be a proper guest and know your place. Oh, what, do you think you have our daughter's best interests in mind, or something?
[Themida lets that deeply dark smile settle onto her face, chuckling with a tone that only barely pretends to sound warm. It's almost precious to her, that he'd make such a mess of what's always been normal for them.
Themida begins to stand; she's somehow only a little bit smaller than Jacinthe and Corbeau both, but like this, dark eyes staring at them both like they're her new favorite toys that she cannot wait to break in, she's got a dark aura that could make Yveltal jealous. It's with a quick motion that she's got a Poke Ball in her hand too, rolling it around idly as if she's just doing something to keep her hand occupied, the Luxury Ball catching in the light.
Anyone else can likely see it for what it really is, though.]
I can't say I like your attitude very much, boy. It almost seems like you're trying to defend Jaci's rather stupid decisions, by going and performing such a bleeding hearted action. Do you think you're some sort of savior, protector?
...Mother, I believe that is enough, and if you do not cease with pestering Mr. Corbeau so-- [Jacinthe's tone shakes in the face of her mother's growing amusement, but she's not leaving him alone to this. She can't. If he's going to protect her, she--]
[Better than you do, clearly is what he wants to say, and it is a struggle to bite his tongue until the nearly overwhelming urge passes. Rusco beat his team soundly with one Pokémon. Even assuming that half her team is composed of Ariados and Spinarak, there's no telling how strong Themida is - but it's highly likely she's just as strong as her husband. Fighting is pointless. It'll just bruise his and his Pokémon's egos at best, or get them kicked out at worst. Leaving Jacinthe alone with these two isn't an option.]
I'm nothing of the sort. [True. Very, very true.] What was so wrong with her decision to step in, though? You said yourself that the tea she prepared was adequate - so you got what you wanted, didn't you?
[Unless what she wanted was to exert her power over someone who couldn't fight back. Whether that was a servant or Jacinthe doesn't matter. Corbeau's assuming that's exactly what it is, actually, but he's going to play dumb. Let them see him as a bleeding heart protector-type if they want, he really couldn't care about the hit to his own reputation. What matters is getting the heat off of Jacinthe for now.]
Those who cannot do their jobs properly are to be punished for their failure to succeed. I would have thought you, of all people, would know that. It's the job of the weak to serve their superiors, and the superiors to ensure they know the cost of their failures; if Jaci wants to play pretend so badly, then who am I to say no? She can take the consequences in their place.
Unruly children must be punished for defying the order, after all; though I admit her cup of tea was passable enough. But what, for a bunch of rabble that can be replaced so easily? I could fill each of their positions in no time, and have the staff perfectly filled by tomorrow. There's no need to coddle these people.
There's no need to coddle them so, and I refuse to allow such a slight to go without due punishment.
[She wants to goad him. Oh, she wants to goad him so badly into laying a hand on her, to bring out the worst in him and give every justification to separating them for good. He really does keep calm too well, for common garbage; it's almost a shame. The sheer scandal Themida could cook up would be more than enough to evict the Rust Syndicate, and maybe even separate Corbeau from them. And what fun that would be to watch.]
And how very, very odd of you. That you're defending her actions so very fervently. I wonder just how the Rust Syndicate is run, and just how much refuse you take in.
Darling.
[Rusco stands from the table, going over to his wife who's giving him quite the blank stare for the interruption. His own eyes are deeply cold and unfeeling, and he whispers something quick in her ear; Themida sighs a put upon sigh, going to drink the rest of her teacup and put the Poke Ball away.
How inconvenient. At the very least her two Spinarak and darling Ariados return, scuttling over back to their lady and taking their place at her shoulder; the Ariados in particular seems to have something...a shattered piece of something in it's mandibles, that it passes over to Themida, who chuckles just a little too bright. It's a deep black, circular with what looks like a colored circle in the middle with some writing like music tracks...
Jacinthe's eyes widen briefly, her posture stiffening as she realizes what they've done and she has to hide a gasp--she doesn't even know which one it was, but that's...]
Oh, dear, look at the time! Seems like we've spent far too long on object lessons and and manners and etiquette. A shame; you were a very polite guest up until the very end. I almost enjoyed myself.
But you truly are an amusing one, Mr. Corbeau. [Unlike her husband, who at least said his name with respect, the prefix in front of his name almost feels mocking in the way Themida says it.] We'll have to talk again sometime. Sooner, rather than later. But until then, we'll bid you adieu; Rusco and I have a meeting to attend that we cannot miss.
Yes, please do excuse us. [Rusco bows, quite amused in his own right it seems; his wife will take her leave first, though Rusco pets the head of his Houndoom to calm him out of his usual snarling rage for the moment while he looks to Jacinthe.] Do make sure that you dole out compensation tonight; it would be rude to keep your former guests waiting for the inconvenience. Make preparations for the party next week, as well; we have several business partners coming to take part, and they are not to be disappointed.
Oh, and pumpkin...do clean your room properly, won't you? We've told you several times now. If Papa has to tell you again, we'll be the one cleaning it.
[And then, to Corbeau with that same smile and dead eyes...]
I look forward to meeting you again in time, Mr. Corbeau. Do excuse me.
[Jacinthe doesn't dare move until they're completely out of eyeshot--all of them, and their Pokemon. Themida has left the shard of the item her Pokemon broke on the table, and it's once they've left the garden entirely that Jacinthe walks over to the table, taking the shard in her hand and examining it.
If Corbeau takes a closer look...well, it's likely obvious what it is. A broken piece of a record, and given the way Jacinthe's expression dampens...]
...Why does she always find the irreplaceable ones...?
[Jacinthe shakes her head. She...she can focus on that later; she has so much to do now. Organize that party, dole out compensation to the party goers, her staff, and she still feels so damn tense and ready to burst and she wants to yell at the people who genuinely don't deserve it--
(The servants, as Corbeau will notice, are also taking quick leave; he can likely hear it a little bit as they talk. The newbies have to hide. They won't be able to take it if the young mistress gets a temper. Get ready for a long evening.)
Jacinthe doesn't go after them, though. Not yet, though the shaking in her posture and the way she looks at them briefly implies that it's still a consideration, because she's mad, she's so mad--but she stays calm in front of Corbeau at least, and...
Jacinthe bows her head, deeply; enough to expose the back of her neck to him, this time. Because he...]
...I wish you had listened to me, my dear friend. I would not have wanted you to see this, to see just what these people are capable of. But I...
I am deeply grateful, that you stepped in regardless. Thank you. I will ensure you are well compensated for this mess today, as well.
[Themida's words spark that familiar blinding fury that threatens to overtake even common sense - it took so damn much to stamp that out, to learn to put on a front and learn patience and self-restraint and he hates it just as much now as he did back when he was just a stupid kid who couldn't do a damn thing without getting his Pokémon involved. That kid would have blown up long ago; it's only a testament to Lysandre's own patience with him that he's been able to keep his cool for this long. But with each hateful word out of her mouth he grows closer and closer to saying fuck it and losing what remains of his composure. It won't be helpful. It won't end well for him or Jacinthe. It's that thought that stays his hand for just a little longer.
And thankfully, "just a little longer" is all he needs. Rusco cuts in, and whether his words are for their own sake or some sort of mercy hardly matters - either way, they're leaving. Corbeau tries (and fails) to school his expression into something more neutral, but the anger can't quite leave him. He remains still, coiled tight like a Seviper ready to strike until they're out of range. He remains perfectly still even as the servants begin to take their leave, whispering a bit too loudly about what comes next. For them, this is just the start of things, after all.
And then there's Jacinthe. His eyes finally flick to the broken piece of (a record?) something on the table, then to her before he finally forces himself to relax, bit by bit.
(But that fury hasn't quelled even the slightest. He wants to break something. Maybe hit something so damn hard he injures himself, because it's easier to tend to a physical wound than an emotional one.)]
Sorry I couldn't do more for you. I underestimated just how awful they'd be.
[There's absolutely no sugar-coating it, because they are awful. He's not going to keep censoring himself around her. Corbeau sighs and rubs the back of his neck, eyes drifting to some point on the wall.]
...I know it's a stupid question, but are you going to be okay after all of that?
Please don't blame yourself, my dear friend. The fact that you did anything at all means so very much to me. I've...
I've never truly had anyone in my corner like that before, in dealing with their awful attitudes. You protected me, even from something outside of the scope of our deal. That alone is more than I could ever ask.
[If she cares about him not censoring itself, it isn't obvious in the slightest. She looks positively drained after that, not even managing her usual smiling mask. It's a lot, to trust someone with this tired expression, and it occurs to her that she never usually even let Lebanne see her like this. It was a matter of pride, a matter of not even having the tools to be able to process it outside of screaming at the servants and dealing with their inevitable resignations the next day, but--
Jacinthe looks at Corbeau, and even if she's not necessarily good at this...he dealt with the brunt of her parent's scorn, and that alone has shot her trust in him further up than she could have imagined.
It's why she offers her hand in return, if a little hesitantly--it feels weird to do so (usually such a gesture has implications to it), but he did it first. Maybe it's a common gesture, among people who need support? Maybe it can convey the message that she needs (wants) to send to him.
You're not alone. I want to help, even if I don't know how, because you helped me.]
...In all truth, I am not entirely certain. I'm furious with how they treated you; even beyond what is expected within high society, the fact that they would continually disrespect you is uncouth beyond belief. And that is to say nothing of my own fury with them...
[...]
Will you come with me to my office, my friend? Perhaps some...reprieve is in order, though I do need to work on getting matters sorted with all of these different affairs. And...
I do not believe either of us should be alone, at this time.
[With their thoughts. With their anxieties and anger and pain, even if Corbeau hides his well, she can only imagine he's as furious as she is. She's still being a little aggressively herself about this, but at least this time, she's asking him rather than dragging him. Offering her hand, rather than just taking his; even if it's just mimicing his actions like a mirror that can't follow it's own reflection.]
[Yeah. Corbeau can imagine how things have gone in the past. Either Lebanne hasn't been around for these meetings (sent away by Jacinthe, most likely) or she's been unable to do anything to help during them. From what little he's seen of the woman, she does try to look out for Jacinthe in her own way, but there's only so much someone can do in the face of her parents. It's easier for him, someone who (hopefully) won't be dealing with them much to take their focus away from Jacinthe for just a little while, than for someone like Lebanne who most likely will have to see them more often in the future.
Usually, he'd write it off as just a part of the deal. No sense in letting anyone else see his weak spots. But there's hardly a point in that today. Corbeau exhales and pushes his glasses up.]
I couldn't stand to see them disrespecting you like that. It'd be one thing if it was just their rigid views on the world, but treating you like a tool instead of a person...
[He trails off. He understands it. Not because he was treated as such - he's been damn lucky that he hasn't been - but from being in a position of power where it's just so damn easy to use people for what they're worth and discard them if they're worthless. He hates how easily he can see their point of view, and how they reached that conclusion, because they have power and wealth - why would they need to form genuine connections with anyone else? Why open themselves up to the possibility of someone using that against them?
Corbeau can see where they're coming from, and he hates that he kind of gets it.]
...Yeah. I didn't have any plans of leaving you alone after all of that. Your office is as good a place as any.
[She offers a hand, and offers reprieve, even though he's not really sure anything will help dull the anger right now. The important thing is making sure that she's well enough after that mess. It's... strange. Jacinthe usually doesn't ask. She really must be thankful for his help today if she's being courteous about this. Or maybe it's just the start reminder of how the elite should be... though that seems less likely.
Corbeau takes her offered hand, giving it a squeeze. Reassurance in physical form. But he lets go soon after, moving over to the table before they depart to pick up the shattered record piece.]
[Jacinthe's gaze averts at that, all of it (he's probably protecting the staff, at least in part. part of her is thankful, and part of her isn't); it's not like she doesn't disagree, but she's more than a little biased and not in the direction one would like. This is all she's ever really known. Living the way her parents want her to, so rigidly and just so up until they finally gave her a space of her own that truly isn't hers. So she sort of gets it. In about as much as Jacinthe can have empathy, anyway.
(The squeeze is nice though, she notes.)
Jacinthe watches him pick up that shattered record piece, though, as she leads the way to the office; it's thankfully not very far from the garden.]
...My parents are not very fond of the few interests I have that do not involve battling, all be told. I've been told many a time that it's unladylike, and a waste of money to collect so many things. Records are one of my favorite things to collect, truth be told; be they modern reproductions, or my favored, classics from years long past us. The music of that time period is simply magnificent, to me, full bodied and soulful...
I usually keep them in my boudoir, because the sun can't reach them that way. They melt in the heat all too easily, and well...I spend my own money that I earn from the Z-A Royale on this and other interests of mine. But they do not like that; I have to hide them when they come over, scattering them in obscure hiding places.
[...]
...It is at least part of the reason why Mother sends her Pokemon to go looking around the demeure; both to keep track of how clean it is, and scold me if they find any. And it's...entirely the reason why Father brought up cleaning my room, as well.
[The office is thankfully right beyond this door; a large window overlooks the back part of the house, including the family's expansive garden and statues and fountains and the like. The sun illuminates the surprisingly dark wooded room, and there's paperwork on her desk to go through.
Feel free to look around; her first stop, though, is the closet. It has three different locks on it that she keeps what would be a Klefki's dream amount of keys on, opening it carefully and smiling when she finds her phonograph and some of her more common records have made it through unscathed. And perhaps even moreso--]
Oh! I forgot I had Gardevoir move this in here--what luck!
[...If Corbeau wants to look, it...looks like an aged barrel from Dendemille, a more rural town, actually. And a large one at that, with a nozzle on it; it has her own hand writing that implies she's had something inside for about two years.]
[Right when he's starting to think they can't be any worse, they prove themselves to be much worse. What, is he expected to believe that they don't have hobbies besides battling? Why isn't Jacinthe allowed that? He already knows the answer: because then she won't be a puppet on a string, pursuing things that her parents didn't approve of.
It earns a soft tch from him and he carefully sets the remaining piece down on the desk.]
Next time they decide to pay a visit, let me know. I'll hold onto anything you want to keep safe until they're gone.
[His office is nice and spacious, but there's also plenty of other places throughout the city that the Rust Syndicate can use to temporarily store some things. She shouldn't have to hide her hobbies, but given that this place is apparently not even hers, she may as well keep her belongings safe whenever they do come pay a visit. It's not like they can scour every inch of Lumiose to try to find their daughter's things.
And given how tightly she's locked that door, it seems that it's only a matter of time before this whole thing comes to a head. Either her parents get fed up with her locking things away or they simply break down the lock and smash everything anyway. Though as Corbeau glances over her shoulder at the things contained within, he finds himself raising his eyebrows.]
What's that? Not exactly your record-collecting hobby, huh?
[She's honestly a little struck that he'd even offer, but...Jacinthe smiles, and there's a bit of that chipperness setting back in with her. But that smile seems warmer, somehow, than her usual mask.
But she'll turn right to Corbeau, actually, and oh do her eyes sparkle--]
Haha! My friend, you would indeed be correct! [Give her a second to go through her records here, she's gonna find one to play while she works--] This is another hobby I decided to take up on a whim since I developed a taste for such things, but I wanted to try my hand at making my own whiskey to pass the time! You can get these barrels relatively cheap by Amberette's harbor, but I've been going down there for years now to get fresh ones!
Edited (mixed up town names) 2025-10-26 01:07 (UTC)
[Her smile seems... genuine. More than it usually does, though it isn't as though her usual smiles seem faked any. There's at least some genuine gratitude, he thinks. Then she continues and Corbeau blinks, studying the label again curiously.]
Music I can see, but whiskey? Definitely not what I was expecting. [And maybe a bit more understandable why her parents wouldn't approve.] Philippe's fond of bringing something new to try every so often, though most of it usually isn't to my preference.
[Philippe has fancy tastes. Corbeau does not. Just give him a glass of whiskey and he'll be fine, but Philippe likes to be experimental. Some of the hideous combinations of drinks they have had in that office should be considered war crimes.]
I didn't expect it either, all be told! I simply thought for the longest time that drinking alcohol was a hobby that most people suffered through for the benefit of not remembering the next morning, or merely out of politeness!
And then I tried something other than the nasty swill they serve at the noble parties. Nothing but nasty, rancid grape water at those.
[Jacinthe sticks out her tongue for emphasis, making a face. It's disgusting!! Who willingly subjects themselves to that!!!
Still, when Corbeau brings up Phillipe, Jacinthe looks over as she tries to imagine that; she finds herself smiling just a touch at the thought.]
Is he more of a wine type of person? Perhaps vodka? I know those types tend to get rather experimental; not that I haven't myself, but the most I've tried so far is purchasing an Alolan rum barrel. It's said to impart a fruit-like sweetness, but I won't know for at least another year and a half how it tastes ideally...
[But ah, she's rambling. She's...used to selfishly talking over others and not really listening, but something in her is curious tonight, as she goes to get her phonograph set up and playing some swing, which seems to ease Jacinthe just a little bit already. Now let her go see if she's got some glasses here...]
Oh, but never mind that. What sort of things does he like to bring you?
Hah, didn't think we'd be agreeing on something like this, but you're right.
[Her questions about Philippe get an exasperated (but fond) sigh and Corbeau lifts his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.]
He likes everything, and he's very fond of finding new combinations of drinks. Although I'm starting to suspect that he just likes to see what hideous things he can inflict on me and what strange faces I make in response. Vodka is his favorite, yes, but that man will drink anything - especially if you tell him it's horrid.
[He suffers so, so, so much, Jacinthe. This is absolutely bullying.]
The last one was actually acceptable, perhaps to make up for the fact that I still haven't forgiven him for inflicting peppermint vodka on me during last year's holiday party.
[Jacinthe can't help but grin at that, though she listens to Corbeau and him talk about Phillipe; he's rather fond of the man, that much is obvious. But it's not in the same way that she had been fond of Lebanne, she thinks. No, Lebanne wouldn't even think of bringing something undesirable to her lady just to see her reaction. This is...
She wonders, if this is what a genuine friendship is like. Bullying, but he doesn't even sound that put out by it; sure Corbeau is suffering, but it seems to be with love, perhaps.]
Oh, dear... [And then Corbeau mentions that and Jacinthe makes a damn face. Eugh.] Oh, that sounds like a terrible experience! Vodka already burns enough going down the throat, it doesn't need the assistance! There's seasonally appropriate, and then there's burning off your tastebuds...
You must have fun with it, though--I imagine the times that he manages to find something that works makes it all the more worthwhile! [She doubts Corbeau would let him get away with it if he wasn't at least a little curious. It makes her smile--and there's those glasses, perfect! Let her grab out...actually...] Will you tell me about some of the ones he's inflicted on you, once I get back? I have to go grab my whiskey stones from the freezer, but I should not be too long.
Please, let me get something to drink for you as well? I know not if alcohol will help you in a similar manner that it does me when stressed, so I can get you something else as well, if desired!
[See, you get it. Philippe inflicts so much suffering on him.]
Definitely not worth it, no matter how festive you're feeling.
[UGH. But she grabs some glasses and a smirk tugs on the corners of Corbeau's mouth.]
Sure. I could use a drink after today's events.
[To say the least... He was fine going without, but damn it'll help relax him. He's still a little too wound up, a little too angry to properly settle down. A drink (or two, or more) will take the edge off.]
May as well bring some water along too; no sense getting too carried away.
[He needs to remain sober, at least. Corbeau wouldn't exactly be a very good bodyguard otherwise!!]
[Jacinthe can't help but chuckle at that, hiding it behind her hand--it doesn't dampen the brightness of it any, but she's definitely delighted.]
Consider it done! ...Though I do confess, I tend not to feel anything until at least the fifth or sixth glass nowadays. I trust my dearest bodyguard will ensure that I don't go that far, at least!
[girl you are implying that you can drink at least half of lumiose under the table like that--
Anyway, with that...probably a little sad if you think about it too much statement made, Jacinthe will dart off to go grab everything needed for this! She doesn't know how Corbeau prefers his, but she elects to grab both ice cubes and the stones, in case he is one who needs his diluted. And a few glasses and a pitcher of ice water...
She passes by some of the servants along the way, waving them off when they ask her if she needs help; she outright tells them to take the rest of the night off cleaning, and they're...shocked, to say the least. Huh.
But! There are a couple comfortable chairs in here if Corbeau wants to sit down, along with a couch near the big desk; there's some bookshelves in there too, though most of the books are on battling history and styles and the like. ...There are a few alcohol books if he wants to read them at least that Jacinthe has snuck between some of the stuff that's not hers, but--
Jacinthe comes back in easily, setting everything out and up on the side of the desk closest to where Corbeau is; pitcher of ice water, two glasses for that, and some ice along with the stones. She'll sashay right over to the barrel to the beat of the music playing, clearly enjoying herself while she gets their first round going.]
Here you are, my dear friend! [She'll go over and take her seat at the desk itself, already taking a nice, long sip out of hers before letting herself sink into the chair a touch.] That's much better...
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sranks2025-10-22 06:33 pm
no subject
Well, it's not like he's really in a place to intervene. Rusco has his attention now and Corbeau smiles at the request.]
I'd be honored.
[Corbeau figured Rusco would be strong. He did not figure for the man using exactly one Pokémon, not even switching in the face of Barbaracle, which double resists Fire. Houndoom made short work of the poor guy anyway with Solarbeam, and the rest of Corbeau's team falls to a combination of Nasty Plot, Flamethrower, and Thunder Fang just to take care of Gyarados.
In the end, Arbok lasts for just a bit longer thanks to a lucky Leech Life crit, but it's not enough. It's a sound defeat. He'd be lying if he said it felt good, because it's rare he's ever crushed so thoroughly. Battles are best when there's give-and-take - not a complete one-sided victory, regardless of which side he's on.
He knew that these two were dangerous, but this only proves it. Exceptionally skilled battlers on top of all that money? Yeah, definitely not the sort of people he wants to cross paths with. Jacinthe was right, but leaving her alone with them still gets his hackles raised, so he can't say he made the wrong decision. Not yet, anyway.]
Impressive. Your Houndoom is exceptionally well-trained. I haven't been defeated so badly in quite some time. Thank you for the battle.
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And they'll crush anyone in their way.
It's his hat that carries his keystone as he brings it to his chest, not even flinching an inch as Houndoom mega evolves and tears through Corbeau's team. Even still, by the very end and with the energy wearing off of Houndoom as he goes back to his normal form, perhaps surprisingly (considering their disregard for their daughter), Houndoom is given gentle treatment and petting for his work in the battle. For as inhuman as they almost definitely are to some extent, he winds up giving the dog some gentle affection for his work.]
Well, I'll be...haven't had anyone give me a run for my money like this in a damn long time! [...That is, in fact, approval, his laughter's surprisingly bright--it doesn't reach the man's eyes, but he'll walk on over and at least give Corbeau the means to heal his team out of respect.] Corbeau, right? Your team's a little unbalanced, yes, but I do see potential in you. I sure can see why old Phillipe let you succeed him.
You have the makings of a fine battler, Mr. Corbeau. I suppose if my daughter wishes to associate with you for the time being, I can allow it. I really do hope you end up finding the scoundrel responsible for taking this fun away from you...
Might is truly what makes right in this world, after all. Long as you remember that, everything will be square.
[...well, it was almost heartwarming. That's gotta count for something, right???]
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Corbeau accepts the healing items and sets about doing just that, quietly thanking each member of his team as he returns them to their Pokéballs. At the very least Rusco seems to value his Houndoom quite a bit. That's something, though his words leave a lot to be desired...]
Thank you for the compliment. I know I still have a lot to learn.
[Philippe... No, now isn't the time to let any of that slip.]
And you have my thanks for the advice as well. Shall we return?
[Rusco seems... marginally more agreeable than his wife, but there's no telling if he also has enrage buttons that can be pressed like she does. Hopefully Jacinthe is faring alright...]
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[There's that word again, and there's a distinct lack of anything that seems to indicate worry; Jacinthe will either succeed, or she won't. It really is as simple as that, as Rusco leads the way back.
And sure enough, Jacinthe has seemingly got everything all ready and prepared--by the time they're back, Jacinthe has managed a surprisingly complex process for making sure the tea is perfect at the table while Rusco sits down and watches. Themida watches while smoking--seems to be on her third of those long, stupid cigarettes now, and the tablecloth looks stained with the ashes of it to say the least. But her stare is cold and unnerving as Jacinthe works, her hands a touch shaky as she manages the pour needed, the Enigma Berry tea turning out perfect as she puts in the precise amount of sugar and milk...
She waits with bated breath while her mother takes the first sip. Her eyes close, and briefly, Jacinthe feels hopeful; that's usually a good sign when her Mother has to actually think, and maybe this time, maybe this time, she can have her Mother's approval--]
W-Well, Mother? What do you think? I truly do hope you find it to your liking...
[Jacinthe's desperate in a way she never allows anyone to see as silence hangs over the garden, and--
It's with a swift and harsh motion that the tea in the cup is thrown in her daughter's face--sending her practically crumpling to the ground, trying to get it off her face because it's hot, it stings and it hurts--]
Adequate. Your servants can keep their jobs, and you, can take their punishment in their place. [If otherwise unimpeded, she's going to actually pour herself another cup.] But I expected better from you. You are an elite, Jaci; not some mere rabble groveling for the chance to bask in our glory.
Start acting like one.
[Jacinthe shakes on the ground, and it's hard to tell if she's trying not to cry or...honestly, given the full body shaking, trying to refrain from attacking her Mother; Houndoom's tail is up at the ready, either way.]
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(Jacinthe seemed so small and uncertain of herself, so desperate to win her mother's affections—)
Adequate, she said. And this is her response to adequate? This is her punishment? Why? Because things didn't go just so? The same burning fury and hatred that used to haunt him when he was just a desperate kid builds and builds and builds and Corbeau forces himself to exhale slowly, closing his eyes and trying to get the image of Jacinthe's shaking form out of his mind.
No. Fighting them isn't an option. He knows how to pick his battles, and if Rusco is this strong with one Pokémon, there's no telling how impossible it'll be to battle both with their full teams. Even if Themida isn't as skilled a battler (doubtful), Corbeau doubts his and Jacinthe's odds against Rusco - and that's even assuming Jacinthe would fight her father. No. Better not to cause too many waves.
But he can't stand idly by either. Call him a bleeding heart, but he won't have Jacinthe believe she's all on her own anymore. Not here, not now.
Corbeau crosses the courtyard to kneel beside Jacinthe, offering her a hand up without a word. He doesn't trust that her parents won't hear it somehow, and right now he thinks the most important thing for her is just knowing that she isn't facing this alone. It isn't much - it isn't enough - but it'll have to do for now.]
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She wants to hurt them, too. She'd usually take those feelings out on the staff after, because as much as she hates the way her parents act toward them, she doesn't have any way of letting go of that anger that's healthy. She can't fight and win against her parents; Themida's team handily counters hers, and her father's more than apt to join in with the Houndoom she's always been a little intimidated of...
It feels like all is lost, and her face still stings even after drying it off--she's going to need to wash this outfit thoroughly when she looks, but she doesn't dare for a moment, trying to choke everything back so she can smile like she always does and fit back into the role she was meant to be--
But when she looks up, she doesn't merely see her scornful parents; she sees something she doesn't expect with wide eyes when she sees Corbeau offering her a hand. She's constantly been trying to tell him to run away, to stay away from these people and their games; she never wanted him to see this. Or maybe really, she just didn't want him to see her like this because of her pride. It's a form of undressing, really, that she's never allowed anyone to see. Meetings with her parents like this were always private affairs, and the staff would know to avoid Jacinthe like the plague unless they wanted to be subject to her whims, but...
It likely says something, that Jacinthe is completely dumbstruck by Corbeau's gesture for a moment as she tries to keep herself from a more extreme emotional reaction; almost nervously, she takes his hand like a lifeline, clinging to his hand for a couple seconds even after managing to get up, and her look is so very grateful to him for it. If her parents weren't around, she'd probably cling even longer, but...
While Rusco drinks his tea in relative silence, curious but unmoved by the man's gesture, Themida's own look goes dark, but somehow very, very amused. Back to something a little too confident, but well. Isn't this interesting.]
...And just what do you think you're doing, boy?
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Unfortunate for her, then, that this just so happens to paint her in a more understandable light in Corbeau's eyes. This explains damn near everything about her.
She wants control because she has none with her family. She wants perfection because she was trained to pursue it. She wants power because she has to live up to those ridiculously high standards. And she doesn't know how else to handle it when things don't go her way, so she acts out. That fearsome temper of hers is clearly inherited; and how would she know to control it, when her parents certainly don't?
Corbeau can't relate, not really. He never had to deal with anything like this. He doesn't have a family to deal with - a blessing in this case, it would seem. But he understands enough to see how this has shaped Jacinthe and continues to shape her, and he understands that she can't (won't?) fight just yet. Maybe someday when she's stronger, but not right now.
He lets go of her hand when she does and Corbeau turns his attention back to Themida. There's no hiding his expression now; it's still hard, still irritated.]
Helping a potential business partner. Is that a problem?
[If it were just him on the line, he would've been willing to risk another loss. Maybe he even would've called her a friend. But he can't put Jacinthe in the line of fire any more than she's already been, so he's still trying. It's damn difficult with these two, but maybe they'll get bored and leave soon. They've bullied their daughter enough for one day, haven't they?]
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Jacinthe can't help but fear for Corbeau, that he's taking this chance to let her know she isn't alone--and that she's staying close by, almost hiding behind him like the scared girl she wishes she wasn't. Because she is scared. She's scared of her parents, she's scared of her father's Houndoom, and god forbid that dog see a reason to go on the attack and hurt him--]
And what exactly do you think she needs help with, if you don't mind my asking?
[Themida doesn't move from her spot, but her cold, dead eyes stare at Corbeau with an almost bemused interest. That he would try and protect their little figurehead, their little Queen piece that they could tell to do anything, and she'd do it.
Might does make right in this world, and they're the mightiest of all. They can demand what they want, and exact whatever toll they see fit.
But Themida can't help but be amused, but her amusement is so self assured. It's like she's staring at a bunch of Weedle trying to make a stand like the vermin they are. There's something dark in her tone too, and she even seems to put her cigarette down for the moment, resting her head upon that newly freed hand with a soulless smile.]
Perhaps calling you a busybody earlier was an understatement. Now it just sounds like you're butting your nose in where it doesn't belong, boy.
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[This is absolutely not entirely on him, take responsibility!!! Corbeau shrugs, one shoulder lifting casually. He's noticed that Jacinthe remains behind him now and that makes it obvious: she really is frightened. There isn't truly a lot he can do to protect her, but she's someone in need of help, and Corbeau simply isn't the type to turn a blind eye.]
I was just helping her back to her feet. There's no fault with that, is there?
[He wants to spit venom, to let his true feelings be known - but this isn't about him. This is about Jacinthe and getting through this meeting for her sake. Everything else can come afterwards.]
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[Themida lets that deeply dark smile settle onto her face, chuckling with a tone that only barely pretends to sound warm. It's almost precious to her, that he'd make such a mess of what's always been normal for them.
Themida begins to stand; she's somehow only a little bit smaller than Jacinthe and Corbeau both, but like this, dark eyes staring at them both like they're her new favorite toys that she cannot wait to break in, she's got a dark aura that could make Yveltal jealous. It's with a quick motion that she's got a Poke Ball in her hand too, rolling it around idly as if she's just doing something to keep her hand occupied, the Luxury Ball catching in the light.
Anyone else can likely see it for what it really is, though.]
I can't say I like your attitude very much, boy. It almost seems like you're trying to defend Jaci's rather stupid decisions, by going and performing such a bleeding hearted action. Do you think you're some sort of savior, protector?
...Mother, I believe that is enough, and if you do not cease with pestering Mr. Corbeau so-- [Jacinthe's tone shakes in the face of her mother's growing amusement, but she's not leaving him alone to this. She can't. If he's going to protect her, she--]
Bite your tongue, doll. You were not addressed.
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I'm nothing of the sort. [True. Very, very true.] What was so wrong with her decision to step in, though? You said yourself that the tea she prepared was adequate - so you got what you wanted, didn't you?
[Unless what she wanted was to exert her power over someone who couldn't fight back. Whether that was a servant or Jacinthe doesn't matter. Corbeau's assuming that's exactly what it is, actually, but he's going to play dumb. Let them see him as a bleeding heart protector-type if they want, he really couldn't care about the hit to his own reputation. What matters is getting the heat off of Jacinthe for now.]
1/2
Unruly children must be punished for defying the order, after all; though I admit her cup of tea was passable enough. But what, for a bunch of rabble that can be replaced so easily? I could fill each of their positions in no time, and have the staff perfectly filled by tomorrow. There's no need to coddle these people.
There's no need to coddle them so, and I refuse to allow such a slight to go without due punishment.
[She wants to goad him. Oh, she wants to goad him so badly into laying a hand on her, to bring out the worst in him and give every justification to separating them for good. He really does keep calm too well, for common garbage; it's almost a shame. The sheer scandal Themida could cook up would be more than enough to evict the Rust Syndicate, and maybe even separate Corbeau from them. And what fun that would be to watch.]
And how very, very odd of you. That you're defending her actions so very fervently. I wonder just how the Rust Syndicate is run, and just how much refuse you take in.
Darling.
[Rusco stands from the table, going over to his wife who's giving him quite the blank stare for the interruption. His own eyes are deeply cold and unfeeling, and he whispers something quick in her ear; Themida sighs a put upon sigh, going to drink the rest of her teacup and put the Poke Ball away.
How inconvenient. At the very least her two Spinarak and darling Ariados return, scuttling over back to their lady and taking their place at her shoulder; the Ariados in particular seems to have something...a shattered piece of something in it's mandibles, that it passes over to Themida, who chuckles just a little too bright. It's a deep black, circular with what looks like a colored circle in the middle with some writing like music tracks...
Jacinthe's eyes widen briefly, her posture stiffening as she realizes what they've done and she has to hide a gasp--she doesn't even know which one it was, but that's...]
Oh, dear, look at the time! Seems like we've spent far too long on object lessons and and manners and etiquette. A shame; you were a very polite guest up until the very end. I almost enjoyed myself.
But you truly are an amusing one, Mr. Corbeau. [Unlike her husband, who at least said his name with respect, the prefix in front of his name almost feels mocking in the way Themida says it.] We'll have to talk again sometime. Sooner, rather than later. But until then, we'll bid you adieu; Rusco and I have a meeting to attend that we cannot miss.
Yes, please do excuse us. [Rusco bows, quite amused in his own right it seems; his wife will take her leave first, though Rusco pets the head of his Houndoom to calm him out of his usual snarling rage for the moment while he looks to Jacinthe.] Do make sure that you dole out compensation tonight; it would be rude to keep your former guests waiting for the inconvenience. Make preparations for the party next week, as well; we have several business partners coming to take part, and they are not to be disappointed.
Oh, and pumpkin...do clean your room properly, won't you? We've told you several times now. If Papa has to tell you again, we'll be the one cleaning it.
[And then, to Corbeau with that same smile and dead eyes...]
I look forward to meeting you again in time, Mr. Corbeau. Do excuse me.
2/2
If Corbeau takes a closer look...well, it's likely obvious what it is. A broken piece of a record, and given the way Jacinthe's expression dampens...]
...Why does she always find the irreplaceable ones...?
[Jacinthe shakes her head. She...she can focus on that later; she has so much to do now. Organize that party, dole out compensation to the party goers, her staff, and she still feels so damn tense and ready to burst and she wants to yell at the people who genuinely don't deserve it--
(The servants, as Corbeau will notice, are also taking quick leave; he can likely hear it a little bit as they talk. The newbies have to hide. They won't be able to take it if the young mistress gets a temper. Get ready for a long evening.)
Jacinthe doesn't go after them, though. Not yet, though the shaking in her posture and the way she looks at them briefly implies that it's still a consideration, because she's mad, she's so mad--but she stays calm in front of Corbeau at least, and...
Jacinthe bows her head, deeply; enough to expose the back of her neck to him, this time. Because he...]
...I wish you had listened to me, my dear friend. I would not have wanted you to see this, to see just what these people are capable of. But I...
I am deeply grateful, that you stepped in regardless. Thank you. I will ensure you are well compensated for this mess today, as well.
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And thankfully, "just a little longer" is all he needs. Rusco cuts in, and whether his words are for their own sake or some sort of mercy hardly matters - either way, they're leaving. Corbeau tries (and fails) to school his expression into something more neutral, but the anger can't quite leave him. He remains still, coiled tight like a Seviper ready to strike until they're out of range. He remains perfectly still even as the servants begin to take their leave, whispering a bit too loudly about what comes next. For them, this is just the start of things, after all.
And then there's Jacinthe. His eyes finally flick to the broken piece of (a record?) something on the table, then to her before he finally forces himself to relax, bit by bit.
(But that fury hasn't quelled even the slightest. He wants to break something. Maybe hit something so damn hard he injures himself, because it's easier to tend to a physical wound than an emotional one.)]
Sorry I couldn't do more for you. I underestimated just how awful they'd be.
[There's absolutely no sugar-coating it, because they are awful. He's not going to keep censoring himself around her. Corbeau sighs and rubs the back of his neck, eyes drifting to some point on the wall.]
...I know it's a stupid question, but are you going to be okay after all of that?
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I've never truly had anyone in my corner like that before, in dealing with their awful attitudes. You protected me, even from something outside of the scope of our deal. That alone is more than I could ever ask.
[If she cares about him not censoring itself, it isn't obvious in the slightest. She looks positively drained after that, not even managing her usual smiling mask. It's a lot, to trust someone with this tired expression, and it occurs to her that she never usually even let Lebanne see her like this. It was a matter of pride, a matter of not even having the tools to be able to process it outside of screaming at the servants and dealing with their inevitable resignations the next day, but--
Jacinthe looks at Corbeau, and even if she's not necessarily good at this...he dealt with the brunt of her parent's scorn, and that alone has shot her trust in him further up than she could have imagined.
It's why she offers her hand in return, if a little hesitantly--it feels weird to do so (usually such a gesture has implications to it), but he did it first. Maybe it's a common gesture, among people who need support? Maybe it can convey the message that she needs (wants) to send to him.
You're not alone. I want to help, even if I don't know how, because you helped me.]
...In all truth, I am not entirely certain. I'm furious with how they treated you; even beyond what is expected within high society, the fact that they would continually disrespect you is uncouth beyond belief. And that is to say nothing of my own fury with them...
[...]
Will you come with me to my office, my friend? Perhaps some...reprieve is in order, though I do need to work on getting matters sorted with all of these different affairs. And...
I do not believe either of us should be alone, at this time.
[With their thoughts. With their anxieties and anger and pain, even if Corbeau hides his well, she can only imagine he's as furious as she is. She's still being a little aggressively herself about this, but at least this time, she's asking him rather than dragging him. Offering her hand, rather than just taking his; even if it's just mimicing his actions like a mirror that can't follow it's own reflection.]
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Usually, he'd write it off as just a part of the deal. No sense in letting anyone else see his weak spots. But there's hardly a point in that today. Corbeau exhales and pushes his glasses up.]
I couldn't stand to see them disrespecting you like that. It'd be one thing if it was just their rigid views on the world, but treating you like a tool instead of a person...
[He trails off. He understands it. Not because he was treated as such - he's been damn lucky that he hasn't been - but from being in a position of power where it's just so damn easy to use people for what they're worth and discard them if they're worthless. He hates how easily he can see their point of view, and how they reached that conclusion, because they have power and wealth - why would they need to form genuine connections with anyone else? Why open themselves up to the possibility of someone using that against them?
Corbeau can see where they're coming from, and he hates that he kind of gets it.]
...Yeah. I didn't have any plans of leaving you alone after all of that. Your office is as good a place as any.
[She offers a hand, and offers reprieve, even though he's not really sure anything will help dull the anger right now. The important thing is making sure that she's well enough after that mess. It's... strange. Jacinthe usually doesn't ask. She really must be thankful for his help today if she's being courteous about this. Or maybe it's just the start reminder of how the elite should be... though that seems less likely.
Corbeau takes her offered hand, giving it a squeeze. Reassurance in physical form. But he lets go soon after, moving over to the table before they depart to pick up the shattered record piece.]
You'll have to tell me about this as well.
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[Jacinthe's gaze averts at that, all of it (he's probably protecting the staff, at least in part. part of her is thankful, and part of her isn't); it's not like she doesn't disagree, but she's more than a little biased and not in the direction one would like. This is all she's ever really known. Living the way her parents want her to, so rigidly and just so up until they finally gave her a space of her own that truly isn't hers. So she sort of gets it. In about as much as Jacinthe can have empathy, anyway.
(The squeeze is nice though, she notes.)
Jacinthe watches him pick up that shattered record piece, though, as she leads the way to the office; it's thankfully not very far from the garden.]
...My parents are not very fond of the few interests I have that do not involve battling, all be told. I've been told many a time that it's unladylike, and a waste of money to collect so many things. Records are one of my favorite things to collect, truth be told; be they modern reproductions, or my favored, classics from years long past us. The music of that time period is simply magnificent, to me, full bodied and soulful...
I usually keep them in my boudoir, because the sun can't reach them that way. They melt in the heat all too easily, and well...I spend my own money that I earn from the Z-A Royale on this and other interests of mine. But they do not like that; I have to hide them when they come over, scattering them in obscure hiding places.
[...]
...It is at least part of the reason why Mother sends her Pokemon to go looking around the demeure; both to keep track of how clean it is, and scold me if they find any. And it's...entirely the reason why Father brought up cleaning my room, as well.
[The office is thankfully right beyond this door; a large window overlooks the back part of the house, including the family's expansive garden and statues and fountains and the like. The sun illuminates the surprisingly dark wooded room, and there's paperwork on her desk to go through.
Feel free to look around; her first stop, though, is the closet. It has three different locks on it that she keeps what would be a Klefki's dream amount of keys on, opening it carefully and smiling when she finds her phonograph and some of her more common records have made it through unscathed. And perhaps even moreso--]
Oh! I forgot I had Gardevoir move this in here--what luck!
[...If Corbeau wants to look, it...looks like an aged barrel from Dendemille, a more rural town, actually. And a large one at that, with a nozzle on it; it has her own hand writing that implies she's had something inside for about two years.]
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It earns a soft tch from him and he carefully sets the remaining piece down on the desk.]
Next time they decide to pay a visit, let me know. I'll hold onto anything you want to keep safe until they're gone.
[His office is nice and spacious, but there's also plenty of other places throughout the city that the Rust Syndicate can use to temporarily store some things. She shouldn't have to hide her hobbies, but given that this place is apparently not even hers, she may as well keep her belongings safe whenever they do come pay a visit. It's not like they can scour every inch of Lumiose to try to find their daughter's things.
And given how tightly she's locked that door, it seems that it's only a matter of time before this whole thing comes to a head. Either her parents get fed up with her locking things away or they simply break down the lock and smash everything anyway. Though as Corbeau glances over her shoulder at the things contained within, he finds himself raising his eyebrows.]
What's that? Not exactly your record-collecting hobby, huh?
[...Is that alcohol? Surely not.]
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[She's honestly a little struck that he'd even offer, but...Jacinthe smiles, and there's a bit of that chipperness setting back in with her. But that smile seems warmer, somehow, than her usual mask.
But she'll turn right to Corbeau, actually, and oh do her eyes sparkle--]
Haha! My friend, you would indeed be correct! [Give her a second to go through her records here, she's gonna find one to play while she works--] This is another hobby I decided to take up on a whim since I developed a taste for such things, but I wanted to try my hand at making my own whiskey to pass the time! You can get these barrels relatively cheap by Amberette's harbor, but I've been going down there for years now to get fresh ones!
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[Her smile seems... genuine. More than it usually does, though it isn't as though her usual smiles seem faked any. There's at least some genuine gratitude, he thinks. Then she continues and Corbeau blinks, studying the label again curiously.]
Music I can see, but whiskey? Definitely not what I was expecting. [And maybe a bit more understandable why her parents wouldn't approve.] Philippe's fond of bringing something new to try every so often, though most of it usually isn't to my preference.
[Philippe has fancy tastes. Corbeau does not. Just give him a glass of whiskey and he'll be fine, but Philippe likes to be experimental. Some of the hideous combinations of drinks they have had in that office should be considered war crimes.]
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And then I tried something other than the nasty swill they serve at the noble parties. Nothing but nasty, rancid grape water at those.
[Jacinthe sticks out her tongue for emphasis, making a face. It's disgusting!! Who willingly subjects themselves to that!!!
Still, when Corbeau brings up Phillipe, Jacinthe looks over as she tries to imagine that; she finds herself smiling just a touch at the thought.]
Is he more of a wine type of person? Perhaps vodka? I know those types tend to get rather experimental; not that I haven't myself, but the most I've tried so far is purchasing an Alolan rum barrel. It's said to impart a fruit-like sweetness, but I won't know for at least another year and a half how it tastes ideally...
[But ah, she's rambling. She's...used to selfishly talking over others and not really listening, but something in her is curious tonight, as she goes to get her phonograph set up and playing some swing, which seems to ease Jacinthe just a little bit already. Now let her go see if she's got some glasses here...]
Oh, but never mind that. What sort of things does he like to bring you?
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[Her questions about Philippe get an exasperated (but fond) sigh and Corbeau lifts his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.]
He likes everything, and he's very fond of finding new combinations of drinks. Although I'm starting to suspect that he just likes to see what hideous things he can inflict on me and what strange faces I make in response. Vodka is his favorite, yes, but that man will drink anything - especially if you tell him it's horrid.
[He suffers so, so, so much, Jacinthe. This is absolutely bullying.]
The last one was actually acceptable, perhaps to make up for the fact that I still haven't forgiven him for inflicting peppermint vodka on me during last year's holiday party.
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[Jacinthe can't help but grin at that, though she listens to Corbeau and him talk about Phillipe; he's rather fond of the man, that much is obvious. But it's not in the same way that she had been fond of Lebanne, she thinks. No, Lebanne wouldn't even think of bringing something undesirable to her lady just to see her reaction. This is...
She wonders, if this is what a genuine friendship is like. Bullying, but he doesn't even sound that put out by it; sure Corbeau is suffering, but it seems to be with love, perhaps.]
Oh, dear... [And then Corbeau mentions that and Jacinthe makes a damn face. Eugh.] Oh, that sounds like a terrible experience! Vodka already burns enough going down the throat, it doesn't need the assistance! There's seasonally appropriate, and then there's burning off your tastebuds...
You must have fun with it, though--I imagine the times that he manages to find something that works makes it all the more worthwhile! [She doubts Corbeau would let him get away with it if he wasn't at least a little curious. It makes her smile--and there's those glasses, perfect! Let her grab out...actually...] Will you tell me about some of the ones he's inflicted on you, once I get back? I have to go grab my whiskey stones from the freezer, but I should not be too long.
Please, let me get something to drink for you as well? I know not if alcohol will help you in a similar manner that it does me when stressed, so I can get you something else as well, if desired!
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Definitely not worth it, no matter how festive you're feeling.
[UGH. But she grabs some glasses and a smirk tugs on the corners of Corbeau's mouth.]
Sure. I could use a drink after today's events.
[To say the least... He was fine going without, but damn it'll help relax him. He's still a little too wound up, a little too angry to properly settle down. A drink (or two, or more) will take the edge off.]
May as well bring some water along too; no sense getting too carried away.
[He needs to remain sober, at least. Corbeau wouldn't exactly be a very good bodyguard otherwise!!]
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Consider it done! ...Though I do confess, I tend not to feel anything until at least the fifth or sixth glass nowadays. I trust my dearest bodyguard will ensure that I don't go that far, at least!
[girl you are implying that you can drink at least half of lumiose under the table like that--
Anyway, with that...probably a little sad if you think about it too much statement made, Jacinthe will dart off to go grab everything needed for this! She doesn't know how Corbeau prefers his, but she elects to grab both ice cubes and the stones, in case he is one who needs his diluted. And a few glasses and a pitcher of ice water...
She passes by some of the servants along the way, waving them off when they ask her if she needs help; she outright tells them to take the rest of the night off cleaning, and they're...shocked, to say the least. Huh.
But! There are a couple comfortable chairs in here if Corbeau wants to sit down, along with a couch near the big desk; there's some bookshelves in there too, though most of the books are on battling history and styles and the like. ...There are a few alcohol books if he wants to read them at least that Jacinthe has snuck between some of the stuff that's not hers, but--
Jacinthe comes back in easily, setting everything out and up on the side of the desk closest to where Corbeau is; pitcher of ice water, two glasses for that, and some ice along with the stones. She'll sashay right over to the barrel to the beat of the music playing, clearly enjoying herself while she gets their first round going.]
Here you are, my dear friend! [She'll go over and take her seat at the desk itself, already taking a nice, long sip out of hers before letting herself sink into the chair a touch.] That's much better...
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