It took a lot to impress Giovanni, he would admit that. No recruits that came through ever really impressed him. He didnât like his job, he didnât like people. He wanted nothing to do with anyone most of the time and he just would have rather to be left alone. He didnât want to see who was coming in or going out, he doesnât like people enough to care, he didnât like his job. He didnât like those who had worked for his mother, he didnât like people who came to work for him. He didnât like himself for the work he was supposed to be doing, that he was born to do. He sighed, running his hands into his hair. He felt Persian nudge the back of his knee. He carded his fingers not in his own hair through the top of hers.
Giovanni hadnât asked for the life heâd gotten, he had just been born into it. He knew people sometimes worked hard to get where they were in the business he was in. He was fortunate but he didnât care. He didnât want to be fortunate in this way. He had planned his own life and this damn organization took it away. Granted those responsible for it were dead now, but that didnât matter. To him, the hand of one was the hand of all and he had the hands deep in his own pockets. Then heâd left, and some people came around the fuck up what he had for himself when he had been here. Leave his job in the hands of Idiots and theyâd ruin his good name forever. Convenient.
Nothing the executives ever managed once he was gone impressed him, all it seemed to do was make him angry. He was a generally angry person, but it was just getting worse and worse. What was the adage, if one wanted something done you had to do it yourself?
Giovanni didnât care about anyone who worked for him. He appreciated what they did, he guessed. He could say he did. He never did, they could have jumped behind him and taken a bullet for him, heâd have let his Persian use their body for a scratching post after the fact. It was just a thing; he didnât care. It wasnât personal, he didnât know you and he didnât want to. Simple as that.
After being away for so long, and having nothing to show for his years of exile besides stronger pokemon, he yearned for his him again. He wanted his Gym back. He didnât want his Rocket position back. But the Gym? Yes, that he did crave. If nothing else, he would have had the one thing that meant something to him besides his team with him. Everything else he loved was dead but you couldnât take his pokemon without taking him too, and you couldnât take something heâd already lost.
He didnât like having people close to him, and when he knew heâd seen someone, or when he knew heâd been seen his defenses went up. Persian was on the offensive, she was always between him and potential danger. Some said cats werenât loyal like nasty things like dogs, but they obviously hadnât ever had a cat like her. Leda would have been proud of how far the cat had come, Giovanni thought. His eyes moved over the figure as he spoke. He turned the rest of his body, making no effort to hide the knife in his fingers. âApparently not.â He said in an indifferent tone.
He gritted his teeth. He knew the face, course he did. Not a name, never a name. The man knew him. Persian drew closer to his side, her hair bristling. âYou made me look bad in front of the entire world. I should let her rip your throat out.â He said calmly, rolling the knife around in his fingers. âOr Gliscor could have at you.â He said, lifting the pokeball to look at it, half examining it, half looking at the man in front of him. âWhich do you think would be best? Unless you can explain yourself but frankly I donât think youâre capable of telling me anything I care to hear.â
