- Pronoun
- they or she
Matthias' face creased in a sort of poignant frown. His mouth moved wordlessly as he thought through responses and discarded them, still fighting and dodging all the while.
"Hopelessly naive," he muttered, at last. "You don't even know how little you know."
Even while dismissing what Gladion said, the taunts clearly bothered him on some level. Not enough to give him real pause, but enough to distract and unnerve, if only a little.
The weather machine was a hefty piece of kit, fixed solidly to the ground, but in trying to upturn it, Gladion did manage to mess with the calibration on the thing.
"I beg your pardon?" exclaimed Bellwether, frantically adjusting the settings as the machine began to spew an unexpected whirlwind of dust and grit.
"Doctor, that wasn't the plan," called Matthias, with a vague, slightly bemused concern.
Sparkwright fell from Toxicroak's grip, and his fan sputtered to life.
"I'll, ah— make my way to... t-to an exit," he stammered, rattled.
He'd be alright, but the eccentric inventor was no battler.
Matthias allowed himself the faintest of smirks as his casual, simple goading was met with instant confirmation.
"You asked!" he jibed, almost teasingly. A moment of incongruity with his usual cold presentation.
Then it vanished with Dave's accusation.
"You are a vigilante," he admonished Dave, icily. "Or a mercenary, if we're being generous. What you are not is legitimate law enforcement – or a moral arbiter – or worth arguing with."
The Greninja pulled a face, and yanked unpleasantly on his own outsized tongue, momentarily grotesque. There was something here – reminiscent, in a way, of Nolan. Two Covenant agents, concerned with propriety and competency, frustrated with the assumptions and accusations and general interfering of people who felt they knew better.
No wonder they hated each other.
The boss-frog collapsed with a groan and a slurry of foul language.
Matthias glanced his way and momentarily rolled his eyes. Liability. There was little love lost there.
"Tag him out," he told the peons. "We're not getting grounded here."
Sam grimaced at her frozen limbs, but gave Astrid a grim nod. She'd focus on the Castform.
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