((This one may go better because it is loosely based on an Rp. I was told to make this disclosure about the fic: "Slightly AU but still adorable" Thanks solarcat! Ok, if you're going to read this, for the love of G-d do it safely! And then if you feel so inclined (which you will!), drop me a review!))
Oh...and: I don't own anything. Don't blame me!
You Don't Have to Order Rat
Chapter One: Beats and Forgeries
Constable Angua knew her beat. Well, her feet knew it better than she herself did, if you wanted to know truthfully. It was like Commander Vimes had said, your legs grew brains in them so that your own mind could focus on things other than walking. She had laughed at it then, as she had laughed at a lot of things that some of the 'older crew' took so seriously. Yet she was beginning to realize the truth behind the superstitions and the tall tales. And it was definitely the truth now, as she turned the corner sharply from Broad Way to Short without even a thought.
She was scratching the end of her nose with one finger, a habit that came as naturally as her old beat did. It seemed to help--she told herself--with sorting out the smells that met her on her way through the city, because the gods knew there were loads of them. She was so intent upon figuring out what the rank smell that was currently wafting up off the street cobbles was, that she completely missed what Carrot had been saying.
"I'm sorry, Captain?" Angua asked politely, glad to have some company in the thick, evening air.
"I asked if you ever wondered where the word 'policeman' came from?" Carrot said, pounding the cobbles with his boots and looking around for any evil doers, this street seemed to be plum out of them at the moment. Angua had to use all of her will power not to laugh. Carrot was a doll, that was inarguable, but...the things he came up with!
"Not really, no." She said, a bit more shortly than she had intended, and she quickly added: "Sir." She needn't have, as Carrot hadn't caught her disregard for the subject at all. Actually he hardly missed a beat in his step as he began to recount for her the origins of the ancient word.
"Huh. Man of the city... How do you know all this?" Angua asked after a while, breaking the calm silence. Carrot seemed to be full of information, and the moment you thought that his brain couldn't be filled any more, he would spout off another tidbit like, say, the origin of the word 'policeman'. It brought a smile to her face.
"Mr. Stronginthearm has many books that he lets me borrow. So does Dr. Lawn. They're very willing to let me read them. 'Glad that someone's getting use out of those old things.' That's what Mr. Stronginthearm says whenever I come round for another one." So, that was how Carrot spent his days off.
"You're quite a character, sir." She said with a laugh, though it was cut short as the source of the stench she had been smelling reached them. There was a mob of people, jeering, yelling, and cursing, all standing around one very bedraggled looking Mr. Dibbler, huddled against a wall.
"Let's see what is going on with Mr. Dibbler this evening, shall we?" Carrot said, without waiting for an answer from Angua, and shouldering his way through the crowd. Angua was glad of his bulk, and simply sidled along in his wake, giving sharp-toothed grins to people on either side.
"Good marrow, Cut-Me-Own-Throat." Angua said, coming out from behind Carrot and crossing her arms over her breastplate. Dibbler was sitting among a few beat up wooden boxes, straw spilling out of them. He looked up at the two Watchman...ahem...watchpersons, and flinched before he smiled.
"What seems to be the trouble here?" Carrot asked over the din as the people quickly overcame the interruption and began shouting at Dibbler once again.
"These...er... fine people seem to be under the impression that these authentic Lancretian artifacts are, in fact, forgeries," Cut-Me-Own-Throat was saying, while dodging a missile being flung by a person at the back of the crowd. Angua caught a tomato one-handedly as it zipped toward them, and tossed it back behind her.
"Why, Mr. Dibbler," Angua said, almost too sweetly, showing sharp canines, "I see what the problem is. These...fine people were under the impression that you were an honest businessman! Silly them." Yes, she was getting the hang of this Watch business, just as Carrot had said she would on her very first day.
Carrot picked a vase from a wooden crate, turning it over and examining the bottom. His honest forehead creased momentarily and he looked at Dibbler as if shocked by the man's actions.
"It says 'Made in Klatch'." Angua could hardly subdue her laughter when CMOT blanched at Carrot's words. "Now, Mr. Dibbler," the Captain continued, "I must insist that you give these people their money back, at once."
Dibbler obliged, albeit reluctantly, collecting vases and tiles, and dishing out dollars to various patrons. When the money had been returned, however, the crowd continued to stand there, not quite sure what to do, and not accustomed to getting what they asked for.
Angua lifted her arms over her head, "Alright, fine people. You've got your money back, you can be on your way. So please...go...now!" And they shuffled away, as only citizens of Ankh-Morpork can shuffle. Scuttle more like.
She turned back, shaking her head, "'Made In Klatch.' Well, I never Dibbler!" She thumped her elbow on one of Carrot's muscled arms. "Good eye, there, Carrot!" She faltered a bit, and hastily added: "Sir."
"You know, the people of Ankh-Morpork remind me of an animal I read about once. They congregate around a certain place at a certain instant. You just have to know when that instant is going to be." This was what Carrot said, as he watched the crowd drift away into the alleyways of the street. What he THOUGHT on the other hand was: She touched my arm...!
Angua was quite unaware of this, and was busying herself with examining some of CMOT's wares. "May be forgeries, but they're pretty none-the-less. How much will you take for them, Dibbler?"
Dibbler stared at her a moment, as if weighing his options, then spout out hastily, "25 dollars. It's a steal, it is. Half price, but that's because we're friends, eh, Constable?"
Angua looked up from the vase she was holding at gave Dibbler a smile that she hoped would make him squirm. It did. "How about 10 dollars, and I do you the favor of not reporting this to the Historian's Guild?"
"Done!" The money was exchanged and the artifacts packed and rushed off so quickly, that it hardly seemed that Cut-Me-Own-Throat had been there at all. Angua examined the vase, yes it was quite pretty, and pulled a piece of canvas out of the bag hanging at her hip.
Carrot had been quiet for some time, and if Angua had been paying attention she would have known that the Captain had been studying her with bright eyes. Angua?" He said finally as she placed the safely wrapped piece of china into her pouch.
"Yes, Captain?"
He glanced at the clock, "Well...our shift's almost over. We should be heading back to the Watch House." She nodded and went to turn sharply, but Carrot continued speaking. "And I was just wondering...if you hadn't any plans for dinner...."
Angua stopped in her tracks, glanced up at the clock, then at Carrot, hardly trying to hide the smile on her face. "Why, Carrot! Are you asking me on a date?" She laughed as Carrot blushed, yes, he was a doll. "I'd love to."
((ok! More chapters to come. How do you like it?? .))