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"Good plan." Nadja's voice echoed inside the cup just before she had another sip, lashes fluttering shut while she drew the hot liquid past her lips. Whatever its effects on her unwanted visitor, the tea was calming her, and it would be another draught before she turned her eyes to desert landscape outside, looking more thoughtful than angered now.

This was inconvenient. But there was little help for it, or for him.

"Burwh," Moloch commented to the other Pokemon. Maybe she knew what was going on.

After a moment Nadja tweaked the blinds and the room dimmed. "I thought you knew about Russia."

There was an answering "Ruu."

At another time, such a response would tempt Nadja to point out that tea was tea, the soul of hospitality, and the soul of hospitality was, well, Russia. But in his current state Seth was unlikely to listen, even if he was a literal captive audience.

"Well, your accent is good enough," the woman replied, "though your sense needs to catch up." She set her tea down and fixed her eyes on her Arcanine. "Moloch, come." The large canine trotted over and found himself treated to a neck rub, Nadja murmuring "Good dog" while her slim hands buried in his mane.

Her eyes, though, drifted past the wagging tail to the other fire type in the room and stayed there, watching. And waiting, perhaps.

The redhead lifted her brows at the disclosure of personal information. It must have been the tea talking.

She had been doing something before she'd been so rudely and spectacularly interrupted. She remembered it now when Pele moved past the fallen styptic. "Sit," Nadja told Moloch, who did, and wove around the bulky dog to retrieve the little vial and her Rocket Dex. "That doesn't sound very pleasant," she commented as she leaned down. It was a bland remark only meant to acknowledge the other speaker.

Nadja set about clipping claws. There was a clock somewhere in her office and it ticked quietly, punctuated with a 'snk!' at intervals as another claw was trimmed. Moloch sat obediently now, ears flickering at each snip.

If she ignored the angry monologue running through her head and focused on claw-clipping, the scene was almost calm, almost peaceful, almost how it had been. Nadja finished the last nail, let Moloch's paw drop, and patted his flank with one hand while she put scissors and styptic away. The giant dog settled down on the floor, paws outstretched but head raised, watching his owner's activities. E-mails were checked. Her tea was finished. But irritation rose again when she rose to fetch something and remembered the zavarka-drinking idiot on her floor.

The elite stepped briskly around Seth and headed for one of the bookcases. Nadja thumbed over a section of reference books, selected one, and looked over her shoulder with furrowed brows at the chuckling. Wonderful.

Heeled boots came into his line of vision. "You need to calm down," Nadja frowned, hefting a thick volume in her hand. "You'll send your clone into a frenzy."

Nadja's eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted to the side with displeasure. He'd lost it. For a brief moment she considered dropping the book on his head, but that would create more problems than it would solve and in any case she preferred not to have her office immolated by an angry Typhlosion.

The tome thumped down on the desk instead and the redhead's attention turned to Pele, the more sensible of the two. "He's going to hurt himself if he keeps up," she told the Pokemon, pitching her voice to carry over the rising laughter.

Moloch's ears were laid back at the sound and his paws shifted on the carpet. He didn't like this madman in the office, and he could hear the tension in Nadja's controlled tone.

Apparently Nadja wasn't sure either, because her face was a picture. This was just bizarre. And while Team Rocket was the source of many questionable activities, the elite had managed to ascend the ranks without having to handle a drug overdose, and certainly not one in her office.

There would be a call from the labs any minute, she was sure.

"..no. You shouldn't," were the first words that came to mind, spoken in a flat, measured tone. Time to be the adult. "Why don't you sit-" Seth fell into a chair and her mouth twitched, "-and tell me what you were going to say. Eat something while you're at it." The content of the words didn't matter so much as getting him focused on something else, like the plate of Nyx-baked cookies sharing the side table with the samovar.

Nadja said nothing. A careful observer would see subtle movement - a shift of her jaw and narrowing of the eyes at 'stubborn woman,' and uplifted brows and a slight tilt of her head when he.. admitted fault. What?

Maybe he was right and he should do this more often. It was.. slightly unethical, but tempt- no, no. Nothing good came of building relationships on caffeine. Although she could make use of it while it lasted.. pity he wouldn't remember half of it, most likely.

Grey eyes flicked toward the chair behind her desk, before a decision was reached. Slowly, she had a seat opposite Seth, resting an elbow on the edge of her desk - a more equal position, and one that put her close enough to deal with unpredictable behavior without a desk in-between. As for what to say..

"You could have asked. Barging in doesn't predispose me to discussion." A pause, then: "You know it wasn't about the chairs."

"Rauu.." There was a rumble from Moloch, whose ears were at half-mast. Like most dogs he enjoyed structure and situations he understood.

Nadja glared at the sudden invasion of her personal space, drawing her head back like an affronted hawk. "Don't assume things. How would you know how long I can hold a grudge? And if you want my respect don't go sabotaging your own health and trying to make my department dance to your- what?"

He really had to stop repeatedly throwing her off-guard.