There was a small mercy in how easy it was to sneak around the long way from the clan grounds to the back entrance to the gym, the smaller population compared to Mahogany, the lack of surveillance on this specific course. That meant, of course, that fate had to balance the scales in turn.

It was a bit of whiplash watching the Blackthorn gym leader’s expression drop from amicable to outright murderous.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Absolutely not.”

Lance leveled his look at the younger man in front of him, voice low and patient. “Draco, I don’t ask much of you.”

“You don’t, but that doesn’t matter when the one time you ask is for [i]treason[/i],” the gym leader hissed. “The fact that you’re stooped low enough to go behind both your family and your country is one thing, but asking me to follow your lead with it is just - what the hell, Lance? What happened to you?”

“You’d be let off,” the redhead explained, not for the first time. “

“Beyond that! You’re setting yourself on fire for something that you’re not even sure is going to [i]stick[/i],” he shot back, frustration bubbling forth near manic, near pleading as he took a step closer. “May not even be [i]used[/i].”

Lance waved back at Catherine, and she bit back the urge to blanch as she got dragged to the forefront of this mess. “Which is why she’s going to be there, utilizing it day one.” A knowing look. “And she’s not the only one who wants this, trust me. This is still in favor of the clan.”

That seemed to strike a nerve as Draco faltered, as he glanced aside, as he scraped himself back up. “It’d be selfish of me to go so blatantly against tradition for a personal want like that. There’s a reason we follow them in the first place.”

“If tradition is the hill you want to die on, then fine.” She didn’t miss the barest slump to his shoulders. “If you’re that concerned about the shallow value of our traditions and not the context behind them, then you’d remember that loyalty to your elders is the baseline of our traditions. Do you not trust me, your elder, your future clan head, to move in our clan’s best interests? Do you not think I also have full faith to my own superiors?”

“I, Lance -”

“Because I’m the one who gets to determine what those best interests are,” the elite went on. “Me. Not you.”

The gym leader’s look darkened in anger. (In fear, just for a beat.) “For now.”

The air, already thick with anticipation, nosedived even harder as time stretched infinite. Catherine watched as the two exchanged looks and unspoken words.

“Fine,” Draco spat suddenly, ran a frustrated hand through aqua hair before he retreated to his desk. “Fine, Lance. Whatever. You want it, you get it. See if I care.”

Lance nodded, just once. “Thank you, Draco.”

The gym leader’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply - set the match registration form with surprising gentleness on top of his desk, regarded Catherine with a near intimate amount of malice as he leaned forward. She’d felt oddly privileged. “You’re the one my cousin is putting all his stakes in? Here’s hoping your skill is better than your disguise.”