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This was a dark day for rationality.

There was a disgusted sigh and the click of a Rocket Dex flipping open. "Govno." The holoscreen appeared for a second, and then Nadja thought better of it. The redhead uncrossed said damn sexy legs and stood up from her chair, tapping out a text message. It was brief: 'Sedate EX-249S.'

"Umnaya golova da duraku dostalas'.." A flow of angry, sarcastic Russian surged and swelled, punctuated by heels striking the carpet. They stopped just short of kicking Seth in the side. The Rocket Dex clicked open again, this time with sound. "Julia." Nadja's tone was almost sweet. "Would you spare some staff to take care of a caffeine overdose?"

She should have done this sooner.

Somewhere on floor 3B, Hayes stared at his Rocket Dex, then very carefully set it down. "Uh. Kay."

Shortly thereafter, a much-edited version of Seth's statement was e-mailed to the department.

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"He drank the zavark- Rrgh." English words, English words. "Ten cups of tea concentrated in one. He passed out, woke up, started shaking and now he's-" Nadja's eye twitched.

There was a thump, and Seth briefly saw up her boot.

"It's going to be fatal in a minute," the redhead growled.

This posed an entirely new set of problems. But you didn't argue with a woman going into surgery. Nadja glared down at the source of her troubles and moved out of skirt-peeping range.

"I'll just get some from the infirmary, shall I?" she asked. There was plenty of it in the mercury spill kits under the name of activated carbon, but it certainly wasn't medical grade.

She wasn't even going to think about the laxatives.

"Right. Then-"

There was a clatter of teacups as Nadja moved with surprising speed to grab Seth's arm, and the Rocket Dex dropped on the carpet.

"What? He's not my-!" It only took a second of distraction to find herself in Seth's arms.

Moloch whined and sat up, tail waving anxiously. He needed a command. Why wouldn't she give a command?

Being a good dog was hard.

Nadja attempted to sear the flesh from Seth's bones with a furious glare and tried to wrestle out of his grasp. "I despise you."

"Aur.. aurr.." Moloch's paws worked deep furrows in the carpet.

Nadja made a noise of frustrated irritation and aimed a heel at his foot in time to the imaginary music. Perhaps sensing the goings-on, other Pokeballs on her belt had begun to shake, demanding release. "Will you get- off- Moloch!"

A command! The Arcanine sprang forward, all rusty fur and cream trimmings, to seize Seth by the shoulder and save his human. Hot, arid breath smelling of dog and charcoal briquettes blasted between the two, but as his trainer Nadja was used to it.

"Would you sit on him or something?" she called to the Typhlosion. "This isn't healthy."

"Ha!" When Seth shouted in pain Nadja took advantage of it, twisting away with a huff. Moloch loosed the man's shoulder and surged between the two, a furry protective barrier who issued a low growl a moment later, because that was the sort of thing she would probably like him to do. The whole situation was still very odd, though, and the warning sound ended on a confused note.

The elite smoothed down her rumpled uniform and headed for her samovar, giving the man a wide berth as she went. With a pointed glare in his direction she lifted the teapot - really, chainik - off the top, snapped "Guard," to her dog, and stormed out of the office.