Still on hiatus because twitter is too damaging to my mental health but I do have an artfight.
Come find me @ savestars
I do enjoy attacking pokémon the most
"All the reports are here, yes. With a few exceptions all the grunts manage to submit them within the same day of something occurring and we go over them once a week unless it is urgent."
Skarmory sticks his beak into the stack of paper, pushing it over.
"... Skarmory why."
"If Yveltal was the one that damaged it I'll eat my keystone. Pokémon usually have certain tells when they are guilty don't they?" he gestures at yveltal. "And he does not look all that guilty in my opinion."
Philippe starts sorting through a stack of papers on his desk.
to the chain hanging from the ceiling, snapping at it cathartically.
Destri sighed, watching him for a couple seconds before turning back around to address the matter at hand.
“Are the reports on the desk?” She asked, peering over at the papers stacked neatly on its surface.
@ravensgoal Philippe flinches at the sensation of fangs penetrating his skin, keeping his arm steady only out of fear he'd damage something important through sudden movement.
"Please be careful Boss." he mutters, clenching and unclenching his fist at the feeling of blood leaving his body.
"Of course Boss, I promised to help, always." he agreed before he'd finished thinking about the implications.
Following Corbeau's eyes, the reality of what he'd agreed on began to sink in. He'd trust Corbeau with his life but those teeth seemed awfully long all of a sudden...
a nod, gaze first landing on philippe's neck, but ultimately landing on his wrist instead.
"...i've been feeding on blood bags for a while, but lately it...doesn't feel like its enough." he took in a shaky breath, eyes closing for a moment. "...will you...let me feed from you?"
"I have, yes." His voice sounds steady, betraying none of the guilt he suddenly feels.
The realization that he'd failed his duty, not only as a bodyguard but as a friend as well weighed heavy.
"So, these creatures are responsible you say? How can I help you?"
"there's been a lot of impossible things happening as of late..." he nodded, looking tired, yet anxious. "those creatures have plagued our city as of late...im sure you've heard the news - bodies turning up, devoid of blood, and two distinct punctures on their neck."
"What."
Philippe stared, thoughts racing. His eyes were set firmly on Corbeau, checking him over, convincing himself that everything was alright.
Dead. It seemed impossible, ludicrous even... yet he hadn't sensed any lies.
"I don't- That sounds impossible."
"Beau what-" he stumbles over, not quite comprehending what was expected of him.
He leans in close. "Just tell me how I can help, I will do whatever I can."
Philippe rushes through the syndicate hallways, too worried to care about proper manners.
Something about the way Corbeau had messaged him felt off... hopefully he was misinterpreting.
He slows down to an acceptable pace just short of the office door and opens it.
"Boss!"