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The last few weeks had been productive. Meetings were held. Reports were read.

In short, Nadja found herself possessed of a lot more free time and, after Tuesdays when pointed remarks and pointed pens jabbed the air, a certain vehement flurry of activity that left Zveya, a streak of concentrated aggression at the best of times, almost mellow after intense training sessions on the desert sands.

Right now it was quiet, which was good, because she needed to concentrate. "Two more. Hold."

WHAM WHAM WHAM. Moloch pulled his paw out of Nadja's grip and started for the door.

The redhead huffed and snapped the nail clippers shut. "Yes?" she called, rising from where she was kneeling on the carpet. A private person by nature, she found such sudden interruptions unwelcome, and her tone was laced with irritation.

Less welcome was the individual who barged in a moment later without so much as a by-your-leave. "What the hell do you think you're-" Nadja started to say, brows drawn together in ire.

The Arcanine she'd been attending to danced around Seth, snuffling loudly and with force. The giant dog's nose stopped inches from his hair, then pulled away as the Pokemon whuffed and wove between the man and his trainer as a preemptive measure, not quite sure of the situation but recognizing aggressive motion when he saw it.

The glare went unnoticed, or ignored. A large example of his species, Moloch was at least as tall as the man and perhaps even taller. The fuzz made it difficult to tell, as did the constant movement.

Nadja's office was quite organized. Bookshelves lined the walls and sunlight streamed in through the windows behind her desk, lighting up the silver curves of the polished samovar on the table beside it. There was a mat with a large dish of water, which suggested said canine spent plenty of time there - and by extension, wasn't normally as excited as he was now.

The redhead glared at Seth between passes of the Arcanine's creamy pennant-like tail. "It looks like you're making a spectacle of yourself," she snapped, "and you can barge right back out. I have work to do."

Under normal circumstances she would have called off her dog, but right now there was something to be said for his keen expression and bulky presence that waited for the right command.

The redhead's expression reached a new level of indignation when Seth laid hands on her samovar. If he had been close enough she might have slapped him, especially with the way he was manhandling her teacups. As it was, she growled. "Moloch."

The Arcanine surged forward, knocking over the capped vial of styptic powder Seth's boots had missed. "Aur." He didn't growl, only 'talked' - the canine equivalent of clearing his throat - and loomed. When you're a firebreathing dog who is six feet tall you rarely have to breathe any fire to make your point.

"Is that linkup damaging your head?" Nadja asked while hot dog breath ruffled his hair. "I said-"

Seth drank the tea.

Nadja stared.

There was a long, slow moment of silence, and then the sound of heels on the carpet as she caught the cup before it fell.

The elite wiped tea off the rim and looked down at the prone figure with an expression reserved for the very stupid.

"Chert voz'mi." She put the cup down and knelt to check his condition.

Moloch, who wore the bewildered expression of someone who just happened to hit the shutter button as the avalanche started and is now staring at their camera like a live grenade, now leapt forward with his own snarl, paws coming down foursquare around his kneeling trainer, who had been checking for a pulse. The teacups rattled.

"Net, Myshka!" the elite barked, over the warning growl of her Pokemon - a command, but not for Moloch. Here was safest, head ducked in the shadow of her massive fire-type as she pulled her hands away from the man's form. "Moloch, stand." He already was but could use the reminder, and it curbed the flames that might stir in his belly.

touched where his right dewclaw had been. "Stop." He did, but his ears creased while doing their best to remain alert. He was not happy about this, and even less so about the next command. "Let me up. Good." The massive dog stepped aside, but remained a block between the redhead and the volcano Pokemon.

Nadja studied Pele for a moment, her hair blending into Moloch's fiery fur. There was the barest hint of a nod. "He did this to himself," she told her, before her attention shifted to the waking man and her mouth twisted to the side.

"Lie down," she told him as she reached for her Rocketdex. The last thing he needed was to hit his head on the floor. (Again.) "Do you need a medic?"

"Fine." Nadja thumped the Rocket Dex down and sat up with an exasperated huff. "You idiot." This wasn't enough. "Durak! Why would you drink zavarka!" The redhead threw up a hand with each foreign word she aimed at him, her expression demanding answers.

His puzzled look drew a heavy sigh. Of course. "You've had a whole pot's worth of caffeine in one go." It was the simplest explanation, and a good thing it was short because anger took over again. "They boil that down in the Russian prisons and use it as a drug! It's like an amphetamine! That's not how you drink tea!"

Moloch tilted his head. There was shouting, but this didn't smell like a confrontation.

"Of course not!" Judging by her tone it was like asking if she ate raw pasta. "You water it down with kipyatok." Which Nadja did now, rising and pouring herself a cup in the proper fashion - a dram of the dark, concentrated zavarka for a cup's worth of near-boiling water and a flourish of honey from a small clay pot, balancing the saucer under it as she inhaled the steam and drank.

Another sip, an exhalation, and Nadja looked at the man on the floor of her office again. "You'll be like that for a while. Did you have any meetings?"