Stephen Strange was struck by how normal everything was.
After alien invasions, terrorist attacks, interdimensional portals opening in the sky, and all manner of madness in between, the most remarkable thing about the people of New York City was that they kept moving forward. Perhaps they were numb to the insanity that was life in the Big Apple. Maybe it just took more to faze them.
But here they were, crowded into a meeting room at the City's planning department, all manner of New Yorkers. Attorneys, business owners, angry neighbors - business as usual.
Of course, business as usual rarely applied to his life, these days.
Strange rolled his shoulders, stretching out to relieve some of the stress. It had been quite a while since he wore a suit and tie, and - to his surprise - he found that he much preferred his cloak. There had been a time when the fit of an expensive suit would have been enough to set him at ease - but that, too, had been a long time ago.
Wong had not found his suit to his liking, despite the efforts of Strange's old tailor. They had compromised on a simple tunic, giving him about as low a profile as he could manage.
"I still don't understand why you brought me to this meeting." Wong muttered, as they took seats at the back of the room. "I don't even live in New York."
"Yes, but you hate my tea. And the only place anywhere near the Sanctum Sanctorum that will serve tea that you do like is Young's." Strange nodded to the front of the audience, where an elderly Japanese man sat with his daughter-in-law and a man in a suit. "They have to expand their kitchen to meet safety rules. But the city won't let them because of their location. So they have to come here and show that expanding won't hurt anybody."
Wong looked dubious. "And that is what you called a variation?"
"A variance. It means they can break some of the zoning rules." As Strange watched, a young blonde woman walked up and leaned in to speak with the attorney. He nodded, accepting a paper from her. As she turned to leave, he placed a hand on hers - just a brief touch, but one that spoke of more familiarity than an attorney and his assistant.
"So what does that have to do with us?"
"Years ago, when the current Sanctorum was built, a foundation for spiritual studies was established. It was little more than a way to keep the curious from looking past the front door, but it suited our purposes. The City doesn't bother us, and as long as we don't bother the neighbors, we can do as we like. But it also means that we're property owners."
"I don't see how that matters."
Strange opened the leather portfolio he carried, pulled out a letter. "The Sanctum is less than a thousand feet from the deli. When they asked for a variance, the city told us. If we wanted to object for some reason, they have to give us that chance." Wong looked over the letter, as Strange continued to watch the Youngs and their attorney. The young black man reached up and scratched his ear, and from where Strange was sitting it almost looked as if he were speaking to himself.
Wong handed back the letter. "But we're here to support them. So do we have to speak?" Strange kept his eyes on the attorney, but wasn't sure why. Something seemed off. "Stephen?"
"I don't know yet. It depends on what the commissioners say." The attorney scratched his ear again, and when he turned to the side, Strange clearly saw him whispering.
"Wong, could you do me a favor?"
"You mean, other than coming here with you and wasting an afternoon?"
Strange smiled. "If you want to keep drinking authentically brewed tea, instead of the garbage I make, then yes." He indicated the attorney. "Who's he talking to?"
Wong gestured with his hands, keeping them behind the seat in front of them to hide the motion. His skill was such that, when necessary, he could cast simpler spells without creating a light show.
His vision, however, showed him that the young attorney was speaking to four other people. One was in the hallway. Two others were nowhere nearby, and the tendrils of energy connecting them led through the wall and out of the building, somewhere to the Northeast. Toward the Sanctum, Wong noted to himself.
The fourth, however, was sitting one row behind them, on the other side of the aisle. He was an older man with untidy black hair. Wong pointed him out to Strange, and Strange made a gesture of his own. The din of the room quieted, and the man's voice became clear.
"You've done this before, Hardison. And this time you don't need to win. You're just there to stall, and we both know you're great at stalling."
Strange could hear the attorney's reply. "Nate, this is different. I really don't like being bait. This should be Sophie."
The man in the audience - "Nate", apparently - shook his head. "You've already been an attorney, you already had an alias ready. And this was a rush job." The attorney turned toward them, glaring at Nate. "Just ring the doorbell. You'll be fine."
If "Hardison" had any reply, the gavel swallowed it.
"Good morning," an older woman began speaking from the dais. She was seated at one end of a long table. Next to her was a recording secretary, already taking notes. Beside her was a man in a suit, probably one of the city's planners. Five commissioners took the remaining seats. Three men and two women, dressed professionally but not formally, each with a tablet or a laptop in front of them.
"This is the New York City Board of Standards and Appeals Public Hearing for August 15th. Before we go into regular business, we have one case that has been continued from the meeting of July 25th. This is Case 2983-072-BZ, a request by Young's Deli to expand their existing structure by 25 feet into the rear yard of the property, and to operate without the minimum number of parking spaces required by the zoning code."
The woman looked to Hardison, who nodded nervously. "Counsel for the applicant will begin with a statement, and then we have members of the public who are entered on the list to speak as well. Mr. Miller, please come to the podium and state your name for the record."
Hardison rose, buttoning his jacket as he walked to the podium. He had a sheet of paper in his hand.
"Good morning, my name is Joseph Miller, and I'm here on behalf of my client, Takahashi Young, the owner and proprietor of Young's Deli. I have a brief statement to enter into the record." When the clerk nodded, he continued. "Young's deli opened 65 years ago. Mr. Young inherited this deli from his father in 1982, and has kept it running ever since. This deli has become a fixture of the neighborhood, and at lunchtime you'd have a hard time finding a seat at the counter."
"Now Mr. Young wants to expand his kitchen, so he can keep serving the community. The rear variance allows him to build that addition behind the building, in an area that isn't accessible to cars and can't really be used for anything else. The maps we've provided show that there is still plenty of room between his building and adjacent structures."
Strange listened, but watched Nate. As Hardison spoke, Strange realized that Nate had probably written his statement. So if Hardison is bait, then who are they hoping to catch?
"Mr. Young does not have the room to add parking. We've provided charts for the last month, however, that show sales by customer. For the most part, Young's customers are walk-up customers. They rarely get vehicles. Further, they are not adding any customer seating, so the additional parking requirement is unnecessary - they aren't planning to serve more people."
"We believe these variances, if granted, would serve to benefit the neighborhood by allowing this business to continue operating for another 65 years. Thank you." With that, Hardison handed the paper to the clerk and sat down.
oOoOoOoOo
Strange saw Nate looking around the room, watching to see who moved next.
The clerk made a notation on her laptop, then spoke. "Thank you, Mr. Miller. At this time the commission will entertain comments from the public. I have a Mr. Doug Roth?"
A man in the front row stood and walked to the podium. He wore an expensive Italian suit, and brought no notes. On his wrist he wore an ornate watch, gold in color, with red jewels inset in the band.
"Thank you, members of the commission. My name is Doug Roth, and I am an attorney representing several nearby property owners, mostly along Bleeker Street. My clients oppose the granting of the proposed variances, due to the numerous code violations at the site." Now Mr. Roth was fidgeting with his watch, as if he were winding it.
Strange felt the force pushing against his shields. If he had expected to encounter magical forces this afternoon, he would have kept an active shield at the ready. Most days, his reflexes were good enough - and today they served him well. Strange had protected himself from the spell even before he realized there had been a spell at all.
Wong, he could see, had done the same. They looked at each other, then at Mr. Roth. The attorney was continuing to speak.
"The Youngs have had visits from the health department on 24 separate occasions over the past two years. They have had complaints about the quality of the food served, the cleanliness of the kitchen, and the condition of the exterior of the site. These are not people we should trust to expand their business. We would just get more of the same."
"My clients recommend that the commission deny the requested variances. That this would lead the business to shut its doors is unfortunate, but perhaps necessary. Thank you."
As the attorney sat down, Strange heard Nate speaking in urgent, hushed whispers. "Hardison?"
Hardison was speaking to Mr. Young, and his voice had a more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger sort of tone. "I'm your attorney, Mr. Young, why weren't you honest with me?"
Wong leaned over. "Whatever that was, they believed whatever he said. Look." And Strange saw the commission members shaking their heads, as if they had been misled by the Youngs.
Mr. Young didn't even dispute the facts Roth had presented. He just sat there in shock, unsure what to do.
" I have a Mr. Jordan entered to speak?" The Clerk looked about the room.
A man in the center of the room stood. "If what that attorney said is true, then I don't have anything to say. But I can tell you this - I'm never setting foot in that deli again." The man took his seat. Nate continued to try to get Hardison's attention.
oOoOoOoOo
"And I have a Mister… Strange?"
"Doctor," he replied, almost without thinking.
"What are you going to do?" whispered Wong.
"There's more to this than a deli. That was a powerful spell. I'm going to try to stall - be alert." Strange rose and walked to the podium. Nate was talking to someone named Parker, but Strange couldn't hear what they said as he walked to the front of the room.
He got a good look at Hardison, and saw that the man wanted nothing more than to leave. His demeanor was the complete opposite of his presentation not five minutes before. Strange looked back at Wong, and then at Nate. It wasn't obvious from their seats, but from the podium Strange saw that Nate was directly behind Wong.
Our shields must have blocked the effect from hitting him, Strange thought. No wonder he's in a panic. His man flipped like a switch and he doesn't know why.
"Thank you, members of the commission. My name is Doctor Stephen Strange, and I reside at 177A Bleecker Street - though I am not one of Mr. Roth's clients. I've been a patron of Young's for the past few years, and have never had reason to question the quality of their work or the cleanliness of their facilities."
Strange made a show of looking at Mr. Young sadly. "Until today, that is. I am shocked at the allegations against Mr. Young, and equally shocked that they were not made a part of the record." He kept his hands folded on the podium, and hoped that Roth didn't notice the small hand gesture he made. When he saw the older commissioner on the left blink at him, he knew it had worked.
"Therefore, I would ask that the commission table this request until the Department of Health can enter their findings into the record. If Mr. Young runs his business in compliance with the law, then he should be allowed to continue to do so. And if he does not, then he needs to be shut down as quickly as possible. Thank you."
The commissioner signaled to the clerk. "Point of order. I'd like to thank Dr. Strange for his thoughtful comments. He's right, we should have more information. I move we table this request until next week's meeting."
The other commissioners nodded, and one seconded the motion. The Clerk declared the application tabled, and called a recess. Roth got up and walked to the exit, dialing a number on his phone. Wong stood and moved toward the same exit - he wanted to see if he could detect anything about the jeweled watch.
Strange, meanwhile, walked over to Nate. "Your attorney seems to have had second thoughts."
Nathan Ford looked up. "He's not my attorney. He works for Mr. Young, I believe." The man was guarded, continuing to play his role. Strange took a seat nearby.
"Mr. Young would be lucky to have such a skilled attorney. Where did Mr. Hardison study law?"
Nate gave him a cold stare, assessing him anew. "What do you want?"
Strange held out his hand. "Stephen Strange."
Nate returned the handshake, cautiously. "Nathan Ford."
Strange tried to put the man at ease. "Mr. Ford, every restaurant in the city has had 24 inspections in the past 2 years. The health department comes by once a month, at a minimum. And I'll bet if you look, you'll find a sudden spike in complaints about Young's. Probably over, say, the last three weeks? Since this case was filed?"
"There was nothing online. We checked."
"Yes, but paper complaints are only scanned once a month. They wouldn't show up yet." Strange nodded to the exit, where Wong was reentering. Wong nodded back - he had found something.
"Everything Mr. Roth said was true, mostly. The trick is that everyone in the room accepted it as gospel. And with the spin he gave it, they assume the worst." Nodding at Hardison, who remained in his seat, Strange continued. "Even your man was convinced."
Nate looked at Hardison. "How'd he manage that, Mr. Strange?"
"Doctor." Strange replied, smiling.
"Fine, Doctor. How did an attorney do that to everyone except you and I?"
"Mr. Ford, what do you know about magic?"
A/N: I've decided to migrate some more of my works from Ao3 to FFN. No criticism of Ao3, necessarily, it's just that I'm active here and not there at the moment. In fact, this story was my last real work there, with three of a planned five chapters posted before I lost the thread and moved into the Harry Potter space. I'll post the chapters I have here over the next few weeks, and work up a finish.
No spoilers for Infinity War and Endgame - this story is implied to take place after Infinity War (and Endgame), but was written well before even trailers were out, so who knows what actually happened? And apart from predating the series finale, and following the Juror #6 Job, it really doesn't matter where this falls in the Leverage continuity. Consider it all an AU, I guess.
There's not really a good or believable way to express where in the hell this prompt came from, except to note that alcohol may have been involved. And a bet. And an actual City Planner.
(Someone owes me $20.)
Feedback, as always, is welcome.
Originally published on Ao3 as Good Tea is Worth Fighting For, 17 December 2017.