"...So technically, the rest of the crest could be some sort of a map!"
It's hard not to laugh at Mackintosh. He's so enthusiastic, it's almost endearing. All the same, I don't want to risk insulting him. We've all had our ridiculous theories in the past, after all.
"I somehow doubt that, Mack." I respond, sounding more amused than I had planned. "Nothing on Dr. Schrader's fragment of the crest suggests that there's a hidden map."
"So?" At least Mackintosh doesn't look put out. "That's just a piece of the crest. Who's to say what's on the rest of it?"
That sends an unwelcome chill down my spine. I freeze for a moment before I remember that no, he couldn't know the truth. No one could possibly know. The fragment of the crest is my best kept secret. In the two years since it's discovery, no one has even thought about asking any questions.
Still, a part of me can't help but be paranoid when I take into account that the "missing" piece of the crest that Mackintosh is referring to is in this very room.
Apparently, Mackintosh takes my pause for conceding. "Yeah, that's right!" He half laughs at me. "So technically, I could be right! Besides," he gestures to one of the books in the stack next to us, "Rutledge theorized that the Azran were fond of hidden puzzles and riddles."
"Yes, well, that was Rutledge." I point out, teasing now. "Genius though he was, you must admit he was rather…"
"Dry?" My research partner supplies. "Boring? Irritating?"
"...I mean, I was going to say 'based in hypothesis,' but I suppose that is also true."
Once again, I have to hold back a laugh. Mackintosh looks like a child caught with one hand in the cookie jar.
"...Still." He decides to press on after a moment. "If Rutledge's hypotheses are to believed, it's entirely possible that the Ambrosian crest is some sort of puzzle, and that puzzle could lead to unlocking their secrets!"
"Alright, alright." This time, there is no mistaking the fact that I am conceding. I hold up my hands to emphasize this point. "Try to save some argument for Dr. Gallagher, yes?"
I'm assuming that Mackintosh is joking when he decides to act put off that I am not praising his genius. "Fine." He says in a tone of mock irritation as he packs up his books and his papers. "But when I blow everyone away with my thesis, just remember that I gave you the opportunity to get in on it."
I laugh out loud. "I will do my very best to remember." I assure him. "Now get out my house, you bumpkin."
My childish research partner sticks out his tongue at me as he finishes packing up. "Fine, you oaf." He teases back. "Give my love to Mary, will you?"
"Of course." My chuckling doesn't stop even after the study door closes behind him.
As I pack up my own research, I reflect on how fortunate I am to have partnered with Mackintosh, especially considering that I almost didn't apply for graduate school in the first place. For so long, I worried that my research would somehow lead me to getting captured again. And to be fair, I can't exactly say that the fear of being captured again has died away, but… I find myself feeling happy again. I am smiling and laughing at jokes again and I am doing what I love.
A great deal of that has to do with Mackintosh Smith. It's refreshing, to have a friend that I work so well with. Not that I have much of a frame of reference save for a few years of memories, but he is almost like a little brother to me.
God knows how badly I have needed positive familial relationships in my life these past few years.
I won't pretend that I'm not still haunted by what transpired between myself and Leon Bronev. The memories have not died down and I suspect they never will. No, they are a burden I must live with for the rest of my life.
It's just nice to finally feel like they won't drown me anymore.
Packing up the last of my papers into my desk, I make my way out of the study. Mary should be home from her own research soon enough. We'll still have time to get dinner and catch up before the evening is over.
God, when did I start smiling this much again?
I spot a figure in the foyer and for a moment I think that Mary must have come home early. But no, this person is taller than Mary, and they seem to be looking for something in their bag…
"Is everything alright, Mackintosh?" I ask, half amused again.
My research partner looks up from his digging and spots me. "Ah. Yeah. I think I left one of my papers with you."
"Oh." Well, that's easily rectifiable. "I probably put it away with my things. If you like I can go look for it."
"Nah, that's fine." he waves off the offer, making his way back to the study. "Just let me know where and I'll grab it myself, okay?"
That's just like Mackintosh. The stubborn fool has to do everything for himself at all times.
"Top right drawer of my desk!" I call back to him as he goes into the study.
"Yeah, yeah!" He waves back at me as he shuts the door behind him.
It wasn't the first time that Mackintosh had accidentally left pieces of research behind, so he wasn't all that concerned. He would just have to grab it quick and dash if he wanted to get dinner in and still have time to study later.
He was so close to completing his thesis now, he could almost taste it. This research would not only earn him his Master's Degree, but if done right, it could make him a prominent figure in the field of Azran research. It would be a dream come true.
Now if only he could remember which bloody drawer Desmond had said his papers were in. There were certain disadvantages to being so scattered.
'It was top… something.' He pushed himself to remember. 'Top left?' Alas, there were no papers in that drawer.
'No wait, he said right! Bottom right!' Once again, the young archaeologist was met with disappointing results.
Frantically, he pulled out another drawer at random, praying that he would have better luck this time. He really needed that paper back if he wanted to be ready before Monday's class, after all. However, the center drawer held no papers in it. Mackintosh slid it closed in despair-
click!
It was a small sound, but it still took the young researcher by surprise. Readjusting his glasses, he looked around for its source. To his surprise, he realized that the middle left drawer of the desk had popped out slightly.
'Huh. Weird.'
Mackintosh wasn't sure that he believed in a divine power, but this seemed to be a sign. Enthusiastically, he pulled the drawer out in hopes of finding his paper and accidentally pulled it completely out of the desk.
'Oops!' He really hoped Desmond would forgive him.
He tried to push the drawer back into place, but found that he could not align it correctly. Kneeling down, he inspected the slot where the drawer had been. He would have to position the drawer just so if he wanted to-
He was immediately distracted by what he saw when he looked further back. There was a keyhole in the back of the slot. A keyhole and hinges.
'Woah. Leave it to Desmond Sycamore to have a secret panel in his desk.'
Mackintosh knew that he ought to just leave it be. Desmond was his friend, after all, and he didn't want to poke his nose where it didn't belong. But then, it also wasn't every day that he came across a secret panel…
'It's probably locked anyway.' He figured. 'What's the harm in trying?'
His intellectual curiosity getting the better of him, Mackintosh gave a small pull at the hidden door and it opened just a crack.
He wondered if he ought to stop here, but if Desmond had left it unlocked it couldn't be that big of a deal…