Disclaimer: I don't own Trollhunters or any of of its characters.
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All she wanted was some peace and goddamn quiet, but no, Nomura couldn't even get a morning of respite before someone tried to screw with her.
Mucking Fundays.
She glared down at the offending creature eating her breakfast.
Of course, it was the half-breed. Shouldn't he still be in quarantine or something?
Great, Nomura thought, just great.
Nomura growled, eyes glowing in righteous fury. She'd only been gone a few seconds to pick up some napkins, but already the boy had devoured her half of her omelet.
"You. Out of my chair." She said, snapping impatiently. "Now, brat."
He didn't look up from his—no, her meal, his little claws not moving an iota from her ruined breakfast. "Kind of bland. Needs more salt."
"I don't care if its salty or not, it's mine. Only mine. Not yours, so get."
The half-breed finally graced her with his full attention, licking the stray piece of food off his upper lip. "I'm hungry."
"Hi Hungry, I'm Pissed, nice to fucking meet you," Nomura remarked in a monotone voice. "Go get your own omelet, brat."
He pouted, "They wouldn't give me any."
"Who didn't give you any?"
The child clenched his hands into fists, glaring down at her desecrated meal. "The cook. He said I'm not allowed."
She massaged her temples. Nomura, despite her snuffy demeanor, felt for the brat. Being a Changeling was like getting the short straw of species picks. Now, she didn't feel a lot of sympathy (because that was her breakfast, damn it), but she had enough to ask, "Well, what did Stricklander say?"
"That if I wanted I could get some food in the cafeteria," he said.
She pressed her lips together.
It was six in the fucking morning. She had four hours of sleep and two hours before she had to give a presentation on some new leads to pieces of the Killahead Bridge.
Ugh, Nomura thought, Stricklander is gonna owe me big time.
Nomura, being the well-adjusted adult that she was, picked up the child by his collar, threw him over her shoulder, and carried him across the cafeteria floor.
Other Changelings watched with interest.
The boy struggled and growled (she almost snorted, because seriously, did he think he was threatening? This half-pint?), but the angle gave him no leverage to retaliate.
She caught sight of just the man she was looking for: Gabel, their so-called chef (a very loose interpretation of the word in Nomura's opinion). He wasn't a very impressive Changeling, but what he did, he did competently. It had taken him fifty years to secure his title as head cook at the Janus Order's main base and he bragged about that fact to any open ear. He was short and stocky, with a mean shifty look in his eyes. He could have easily intimidated any human if he wasn't such a pushover little bitch.
She deposited the boy on the ground next to the kitchen counter and leaned over, one hand on the desk with the other on her hip. "I need another omelet, Gabel. Also, feed this brat."
Gable shook his head, disinterest clear. "Not my problem, Nomura."
"Excuse me?" She said, "You talk to all your superior officers that way?"
"You're not my superior, Nomura." He ground out, smirking. "We're the same rank. Otto said he's not allowed in the cafeteria, and I'm pretty sure he's higher up than you are, sweet cheeks."
Oh. Oh hell no.
Nomura put a finger to her lip, then said, "now, unless I've been living under a rock, Otto was Stricklander's subordinate, not the other way around."
The other Changeling blenched, his cool mask of indifference fading. "Well, yeah, but Otto said—"
"And I'm pretty sure Stricklander is the head of the Janus Order, right?"
"I—"
"So, if I'm correct, that would mean this brat is under Stricklander, not you, not me, and definitely not Otto. And whatever Stricklander says, goes." She said, then turned to the child. "Brat, what did Stricklander say to you exactly?"
The boy crossed his arms, staring unblinkingly at the cook, then stated, "That I could eat in the cafeteria."
She tapped a nail to her cheek, smiling all the while. "If that's the case, then Otto's orders don't mean jack shit, Gaby"
The Changeling male flushed, then glared down at the boy and huffed, "Bah. I'm not paid enough to deal with this. Fine, the runt can have something."
She looked over to the kid, who was already scanning the buffet, picking up an apple and examining it like it was some sort of ancient freaking pottery. Was he even listening? She flicked one of his horn's, startling him. "Well? What do you want?"
"Huh?"
"What do you want to eat, brat?"
He squinted, looking over the selection with a bit of frustration. "I can have anything?"
She half-shrugged, "Sure, go nuts."
The boy leaned over the counter, his little claws clicking against the topside as he focused his attention on the cook. "A quiche lorraine."
Gable scoffed. "Ain't got no quiche lorraines, half-breed."
He looked up at Nomura. "I want a quiche lorraine."
She shrugged. "Kid wants a quiche lorraine, Gaby. Give him a quiche lorraine."
Smacking his disk towel against the counter, Gable threw up his arms in frustration. "I don't got the recipe, okay? Look, Nomura, just go topside and get him one."
"I've got a meeting in less than two hours. What makes you think I've got the time to go up and find someplace that makes them?" Nomura asked.
"If he can't make it, I can," the kid stated.
Nomura chuckled dryly. "Seriously? You can cook?"
The halfling nodded.
Well, well, well. The Omelet thief was a budding chef too.
Figures.
Suddenly, the brat jumped over the tabletop, sauntering around the kitchen like he fucking owned the place.
Nomura had to cover her mouth to hide the smirk developing on her face. This brat was something else. While she was still annoyed that he ate her breakfast, she hadn't seen Gable flustered like this in years. If she was right (and she almost always was), then by noon the entire facility would know about Gable's failure to stop a half-breed half his size. Changelings thrived on gossip and this would be no different.
"Woah, woah, woah, half-breed! Only the Chef's allowed back here." Gable said, trying to block the kid from the cabinets.
The kid looked back at Nomura again, gaze steady and confident. Nomura raised an eyebrow, her hand navigating to her hip.
"Kid says he can cook, Gaby. Let him cook."
"No way, this is where I draw the line, Nomura. I don't want that half-freak's tainted fingers getting all over my equipment." He thrust a finger in the child's face, disgust painted on his features.
The boy flinched.
As Nomura was no stranger to racism in her Troll and human forms, she reacted accordingly.
She slid over the table like a dancer and grabbed the man's shirt. Like a mirage, the human skin covering her arm vanished, replaced by dark pink stone. Slowly, she trailed a single claw up his abdomen, ripping the material along the way, relishing the rising fear in his eyes. She could feel his growing heartrate; sweat poured down his jaw. Her finger reached his neck.
"Gaby, you remember what happened to the last Troll that crossed me, right?"
He visibly gulped. "Y-yea?"
"And what happened to him, exactly?"
His eyes bulged, face as white as the underside of a fish. "H-he disappeared."
Nomura flicked his nose with her transformed hand. "Exactly."
Moseying around the kitchen, the woman found, to her surprise, that the boy was already putting together ingredients, skillfully throwing in ingredients and mixing them inside a bowl.
She stood over the kid, looking over his head to see what he was doing. "How long's this gonna take?"
His ears wiggled; wearing a thoughtful look, he answered, "From scratch? About two hours, give or take."
She groaned. "Ugh, that's way too long. Why spend so much time cooking this when you can make an omelet or something?"
He shook his head. "I don't want an omelet anymore. I want a quiche lorraine."
"But why? How do you even know how make one anyway?"
"It's tasty. It's not that hard to make, just time consuming. But that woman, I remember she loved. . ." He paused, then began pulling two table knifes through the ingredients in opposite directions. "No. I don't . . .don't know. Who was it that I . . . who was she . . ."
"You don't know? How can you not know?"
"I-I can't remember." He admitted softly. "Stricklander says I hurt my head before I woke up and all my memories got jumbled and stuff."
The child's shoulders hunched up, ears lowered. His eyes watered too, though he did not cry.
Oh shit, Nomura didn't know how to deal with kids. What should she do?
Nomura patted his back, "You got amnesia? Truly? Huh. That sucks kid. Word of advice though: don't let the other Changelings push you around like Gaby just did. You want something? Take it. Because this world doesn't give a shit about you."
"Thank you for such encouraging words." He replied blandly, the tears now gone (thank Gunmar, Nomura didn't do emotionally heavy shit, not even her own).
"There's three rules you gotta know if you want to survive this place, brat." She showed him her index finger. "Rule Number One: Avoid Bular at all costs, if possible."
"Who's Bular?"
"Oh ho, ho, You'll know him when you meet him." She threw up a second finger, "Rule Number Two: Watch your fellow Changelings backs and they might watch yours."
"Might?"
"Eh, depends on which ones. Stricklander sometimes repays the favor as long as it doesn't affect his status, but Changelings like Otto or Gaby-boy over there will stab you in the back the moment the opportunity presents itself. Learn to distinguish between the two. It might save your life"
"Noted." The boy stopped his whisking, tilting his head back up to her. "Where do you fall, Nomura?"
She grinned. "Now you're asking the important questions. Which brings us to Rule Number Three: Don't fuck with Nomura. I'll give you a pass this one time, since you didn't know, but next time you try to eat my breakfast will be the last breakfast you'll ever have. Got it?"
"Understood."
"But, if you'd like to get in my good graces, making me a quick omelet might help." She dipped her finger into the batter then licked it. "Throw in some of that Quiche for lunch too."
He pushed her hand away, guarding the bowl protectively. "Then what will you do for me?"
Nomura smirked. She ruffled his hair, saying, "Spoken like a true Changeling."