There it was again. The distinct shift in Yulia's mannerisms. Her eyes. The way her lips curled into a certain sneer as she spoke. Clive frowned as he glanced down at his partner's pale wrists, which she offered him in sardonic defiance.

Was this "Freya" really the criminal mastermind they had been looking for? Was she actually what Yulia described? Clive had not known the legendary Ninetales' curse could be so powerful, but there have been crazier stories. Whether this crooked being was truly someone else's soul or a simpel delusion, she needed stopped somehow... and damn it all if Clive could not shake the feeling that he needed to find a way to protect Yulia in the process.

His heart softened when Yulia returned, marked by her shift in expression and the formation of tears in her eyes. Even so, it was not enough to rid of him of the anger he felt. How much he felt betrayed. Was he really so untrustworthy, after everything, that Yulia held this from him through all of it? The entire population of the region needed to suffer before she could finally trust him? Those who were injured or killed during the Storm, the rescue Pokemon that risked their lives during it all, even Umbreon? That's what it took? No, he was allowed to be angry and to make it known.

Clive steeled himself, maintaining his intense gaze when Freya retook her position as the pilot. That was when she surprised him, comparing him to his late father and his infamous partner. Clive did not know what to make of her comments, and despite himself, he chuckled. What was it to him that he was nothing like his late father? Was he supposed to aspire to earning an early grave for himself? Maybe hand over Umbreon and the rest of his Pokemon to the next criminal organization himself before croaking, just to save time. Just the very idea repulsed him.

"It's so nice to hear those lips utter something I can fully believe is the truth," Clive said. Coolly, almost casually, he readied a pair of handcuffs. The chain links that joined the restraints glinted in the light, metallic and cold. They jingled lightly as he continued on. "I wonder, Freya, if you would have been more honest with me than she was, had we been on the same side." That was when Clive took one of Yulia's wrists and locked one of the cuffs around it. He did so forcefully, the frigid steel biting into her skin. For the moment, he hardly cared if it was Freya or if it was Yulia he was aggressing. Part of him hoped it was a little of both. He realized quickly that it probably was, as Yulia's tears dripped down her cheeks, passed Freya's smug grin.

Clive paused, awkwardly. He did not proceed to recite the suspect's rights, nor did he instruct her to place her arms behind her back. The usual motions simply did not come. As time pased, the lines on his forehead grew deeper and his jaw began to ache as he ground his teeth. Finally, something flipped over, a quick twitch flickering across his face. With a firm grasp on the free cuff on the other end of the chain, he pulled Yulia, or possibly Freya, towards him forcefully. His larger stature made it easy, and he took advantage of his physically commanding position. His grip tightened on the cuffed arm, pulling his partner and her secret harbinger so close that they could feel his breath on their shared face.

"I want you to explain what happens if we battle," he said. "Where do you go if I win? And what of the rest of Avarice?" He hated himself for backpedaling now, but there was no escaping his desire for justice. He saw it in Yulia's tears, that she was a victim in all of this too. Maybe she did deserve his anger, which was tenfold what he allowed himself to show, but the matter should be between just the two of them. Setting aside the invitation to the current meeting, Freya an invader who had long overstayed her welcome.