A/N: That's right! No one asked for it, but here it is! Chapter 2! Please read and review, and check in on #1 if you're not up to speed...
Disclaimer: I do not own/know/have anything to do with anyone (real or imagined) mentioned in this work of PURE FICTION. Please don't sue me - I'm still trying to find a real job with benefits!
Angel's Vigilante... "Agency"
CHAPTER TWO
Sendhil
Our conference room is a joke. Not that Angel ever, like, intended it to be one, but no one takes it seriously. He spent a pile of dough on this nice, long, dark marble table, and we hardly ever use the thing. Or if we do, it's not as it was meant to be used. There are rumors – probably spread by Spike – that Angel himself seduced a client once after we'd successfully imprisoned her dangerous stalker; Spike says he "seduced" her on the table – Booth says if anything, she was just, like, showing her gratitude. Angel refuses to acknowledge that there even is a rumor.
Apart from that, Angel and Jen are both always shooing everyone away from sitting on it instead of the chairs (never me, of course). Angel once came in to find Simon, one of our "vagrant" informants (he does have a home which he shares with a steady lover, just spends most of his time on the streets out of a pure desire to be around people and know what's going on), sleeping on the hard surface. Said his lover had spent the weekend away at his mother's for her birthday and he'd, like, gotten lonely and bored at home. Why he hadn't chosen to stay the rest of the night in the dumpster where he'd started out, I don't know, but maybe the smell finally got to him. Sure got to Angel, who sent him straight home for a shower.
Jen was, like, a total mess that day. Spent over three hours spraying the thing down with some ultra-mega-anti-hobo cleaner or something. That was okay, though, because that meant Noel took over front desk duties – and for one day, Angel wasn't overly annoyed or exasperated by the end of it. He considered trading Noel's fieldwork for Jen's position, but Noel turned it down, saying he preferred doing things.
Noel may look and seem like a freak on the outside, and I know some people like that about him while others are skeptical; even, like, scared – maybe of the fact that they're not sure if he's a man or a woman but think he's pretty. But he's actually one of the cheeriest, friendliest, people-person kind of guys I've ever met. Which is why everyone here loves him – except Jen, of course, but she'll find a reason to dislike anyone but her boss... and one Mr. Seely Booth.
That twit's blatantly got the hots for that man like no one should – especially her, since she has a live-in boyfriend of her own, But it's so obvious, even to me, and that's saying something. Strange thing is, as obsessed as she is, she's so daft that she can't tell Seely and Angel apart – which is, like, impossible, other than they must look alike naked... I'm guessing. But the clothes, demeanors, attitudes, even the way they talk – it's just so different, you'd think someone who thinks they're in love with someone else would know the difference.
But not much of that really concerns me, personally. I'm way more interested in, like, all the weird specimens and phenomena we've found along the way – and it keeps coming. Not just silly things like a young adult catching a curse for screwing a puppy, but this gemstone Angel needs to find is pretty intriguing, the more Chris shows and tells me about it. I'd love to get my hands on that, not to use it, but just to, like, study it and its capabilities, see its properties and what sort of threat it poses.
I'd probably get more help with that if Julian wasn't so afraid of Chris, which is ridiculous, if you ask me – like Noel, he may look a bit weird, but he's actually very sweet (though he's got an acidic sense of humor). Really, I'd think he and Ju would hit it off, both being quiet and shy (though if you put them in a room together by themselves, neither would say a word, unless Ju got uncomfortable enough to start blathering like an idiot about jazz; and Chris would just stare at him until Ju felt really awkward and shut up).
Okay, Ju can throw off the shy act when he wants, but it takes certain, specific elements to cause Chris to do the same, as his isn't really an "act" - not only is he a Nispar, which is the strangest branch of heritages to come from Utars anyway, but he truly is a shy, introverted person. But Ju doesn't quite understand Nispar characteristics, and that puts him off a bit. Though Zachary's half Human, I suppose he and Chris both exude some kind of, like, innate, other-worldly eeriness about them... but since I've known them so long (Chris longer), I've become used to them by now.
I guess "intense" is how I'd describe them. Like Angel and his usually somber, mysterious nature. But I'm just one of those people who are drawn to that sort of personality, I guess. Though to be honest, it's much more comfortable to be in a room alone with someone like Noel or Seely, who will drag you into inane or perverse conversations (those descriptions fitting either one), even if you're a clam. (Come to think of it, if anyone were to end up in a room alone with a clam, it would be Noel. And he would try to talk to it.)
But again, that's all interpersonal relationships, which isn't as important, apparently, as this gemstone. Which was why I brought up the conference room in the first place, because that's where Angel has us all gathered (aside from Simon, who's out, like, doing other information-gathering) for an "urgent meeting." I guess the failure of Spike's team in finding the stone is a big deal to Angel, which only makes it more interesting to me, because he usually leaves artifact retrieval and research to me and Chris.
But it's a funny state of affairs just having us all in one room, as we all file in and, one after another, as I sit politely on the opposite side from the door in my white lab coat and watch the procession, Angel stands at the head of the precious table, sniping at people (Russell, Seely, Spike) to get their asses off the surface and sit in a seat properly. Russell, instead, insists on standing, just to be difficult and arrogant, and though Seely obliges, taking the seat across from me (Ju beside me, almost glaring at the black-haired "child" across from him as Noel spins around and around in his chair like it's a carnival ride and giggling stupidly), Spike lopes to the other end of the table and hops on top, sitting cross-legged on the surface defiantly. Angel notes this but gives up on fighting it, and instead consorts with his "secretary" Jen about whatever bundle of papers she's got in her arms.
On the other hand, there's Angelina beside Noel, trying to tell him to sit still – but it's hard for her to do it with a straight face; like it or not, the kid amuses her, and since she's got a natural maternal instinct battling with her own childlike love of silly things, she acts like a doting, indulgent mother whenever she's around him. James is at the other end with Spike, pleading with him to just do as Angel says, at the same time guarding Spike as much as possible from where he sits (or guarding everyone else from the terror that is his charge), and Zach is next to Julian.
That's an odd one, for him to be blithe around Zach, when he's so afraid of Chris – who is, as usual, perched in his seat like a bird, halfway down the table as if to keep himself distanced from either end of the polar opposites of Spike and Angel, choosing to remain neutral in everything, knees to his chest despite my knowledge that Angel is biting back his urge to tell him to get his feet off the chair cushions – luckily, he's barefoot.
Perhaps Julian and Zach sharing the office adjacent to mine for five years is what's made Ju so careless about someone he'd normally be shocked by just in, like, meeting the guy – indeed, much as he tries to cover it up with his own false arrogance and fake superiority complexes, insults, and pretending to be exasperated, even I can tell Julian is just a hair away from groping Noel whenever he sees him. So Ju isn't that hard a book to read, basically.
Zach has to be aware of Ju's "secret" infatuation, too, which is probably why Ju doesn't mind him so much – after the initial fretting and embarrassment, it ebbs away into acceptance and trust that he has a confidante rather than a blackmailer on his side. Then again, maybe it's more like Ju has something on Zach that Zach would be afraid of revealing, so they're on equal ground. Again, it's strange to study the interpersonal relationships between this group, like how Russell smiles and winks at the grinning, spinning idiot every time his face passes his view, and the glare I thought Ju was giving Noel for being a silly brat at a playground turns out to be directed at Russell – a possible threat to his own unrequited – unacknowledged – love? Who knows?
Once everyone gets situated, I realize I've been so engrossed in watching Ju's multi-angled stare that I just now notice a third person standing at the head of the table with our boss and Jen. A tall, lanky fellow in tight, torn blue jeans and a shirt that can only be described as a hippie's second-hand toss-off (maybe he's sneaked it from Russell's wardrobe?). His long, dirty blond hair, flowing over his shoulders in kinky curls, also helps the hippie image – but the somber, emotionless expression on his face seems to scream, "I ain't no fuckin' hippie, you asshole."
"First of all," Angel begins, not quite grabbing the attention of the assembled freaks, "I want to introduce our newest member, just made it official today, though Simon and I have both been meeting and working with him several times over the past month--"
Russell drags his eyes away from Noel's spinning long enough to let out a feigned gasp of horrified shock. "You mean to tell us you've been seeing other people behind our backs!? I say mutiny! Mu-ti-ny!"
But no one else chimes in with his chant, and some roll their eyes. Not even Spike responds, which is unusual, as he's typically, like, the one to suggest it himself. But today he seems too sulky to put out the energy to back up his teammate.
But Angel, cool and collected, merely states, "Well, seeing as one of our groups' last assignments turned up nothing..."
Russell drops his pumping fists to his sides, clamming up immediately at the mention of the failure. Even looks a bit sulky himself.
"Maybe we would've been more successful," Spike spits out bitterly, "if we'd had sufficient information to go on--"
"Which you failed to ask about before getting my approval to leave," Angel finishes pointedly – again, shutting up the opposition with the truth of his words.
"Anyway," Angel goes on with a sigh, "as always, the rules have been to do fieldwork in pairs or groups, and some of you have been matched accordingly to your strengths and weaknesses; we've stuck with those match-ups pretty regularly – until now. Of course, sometimes this has been difficult because of missions being planned haphazardly and critical steps have been, um... mixed up, shall we say, rather carelessly..."
With a slight cough, Jen's face flushes ever so minutely – not that she was ever in charge of assignments, but this must mean she's, like, helped cock up information with real members of the "work forces."
"That aside," Angel continues, "I felt it best to re-evaluate things and add a new member to our ranks in order to give us more capabilities to branch out – time-wise and information-oriented."
He pulls the sinewy faux-hippie between Jen and himself and introduces him, "This is Rich. He's an expert in forensics and has a knack for trailing some of the, uh, `bad guys' we tend to look for. He's been a great help to Simon in the past few weeks, but I think his work will be better utilized through this agency as a permanent, resident employee. He has a vast knowledge of medical, physiological, and Utar metaphysical aspects, and he used to work closely with Dark Arts experts who harnessed Bubbles."
I blink at this, gazing up at the man with the very serious face – well, Rich, that is, considering that could be applied to, like, either of them.
"Impressive," I blurt out thoughtlessly. "So you harnessed Bubbles? I still haven't witnessed a successful capture myself, and Chris and I have both worked with people who did the same thing..."
I trail off when the cold blue eyes target me, but the low voice, which comes out in, like, a slightly lazy Southern America drawl, answers cordially, "It can be done, when you have properly trained experts doing it."
I nod hopefully and lean in more, speaking like this is confidential – even if everyone can hear me.
"I'd love to hear some stories of your fieldwork sometime--"
"Okay, enough," Angel cuts me off before I get too excited. "Yeah, you'll have time for that later. Another problem is that certain field men have been around here long enough that they can't do anything but harass others when they're bored and aren't on a mission."
I notice his gaze comes to rest directly on Noel – still spinning around, back and forth, now even adding car-like noises to his actions.
"So, Noel," Angel says sharply to get the kid's attention, and he comes to a slow stop in his chair (Angelina, like, covering her face in exasperation as if it's her kid who's been troublesome), hands on the table edge to catch himself, and looks up at the boss with wide, clueless eyes. I wonder if he's even, like, listened to any of this all along.
"Wot?"
Angel sighs again and adds – almost reluctantly - "You'll finally get an office."
Noel blinks up at him in shock, mouth hanging agape at the words. "Office? Me?"
Which is probably what's going through everyone else's heads as well, though not as happily as his tone – either, like, irritated or, like me and Angelina, bemused.
"Really?!" The gape morphs into a wide grin and he pumps two fists in the air. "Yes! Finally!"
Russell snorts obnoxiously, "You're serious?" Although he's speaking of the same kid he's been suggestively leering over for the past, like, two years or something. "You called us all in here to tell us the man who bases most of his life philosophy on candy has a cage now? Is that to show off how much better he is than us, or to assure us the freak has a lair now? What the f--"
"Not just that," Angel corrects sharply. "I wanted everyone to meet Rich, and to inform them both that they will be sharing the office on the underground floor next to the lab."
As Noel gleefully catches Rich's eye and gives him a thumbs-up signal (and Julian stiffens in his chair beside me; certainly the knowledge that Noel's office will be so close to the working space he and I usually occupy is enough to make Ju, like, nervous and thrilled), Spike scoffs with annoyance.
"What the hell's this about!? I been here years and never got me own office. Now some pseudo-doctor from the streets who just joined and the nutjob glam dingbat down there get one all to themselves!? How is this possibly fair--"
"That's because they've proved," Angel scowls at him, "in less time than you have, that they've earned it."
"A bloody month, you've been talking to this stranger! Without talking to any of us about it!" Spike hollers across the room, gesturing disdainfully at Rich – who hardly seems offended, but like, more interested in curiously eying up his new office-mate, who looks more chipper than most would at the idea of simply getting a shared office. "I've been getting shit from you for years and you just blow me off!"
Angel leans over the table, one palm flat, and the other holding up a sheet of paper displaying the shining blue gem – an enhanced, blown-up picture of the true bounty from the last mission. The one that's still missing.
Spike's tension slumps away as he glares up at the ceiling.
"This is why I hold off on advancing you idiots any further, because your 'team' is too damn brash and either fucks up the mission, injures someone important, or shows up here with nothing to go on. So you tell me why I should give you any privileges!?" He manages a glance at James, uttering sideways, "Sorry, man, but a group's a group."
And what he doesn't say is that, without James stuck to Spike's side, the Utar crazy man would be, like, even crazier; somehow, Angel figured out early on that James' presence, like, keeps Spike in check a lot. Not sure how it all works, but since it does work lots of times, Angel's not about to, like, split up that pairing. Whether Russell will be able to stick with them is always up in the air, but it seems the best group to put him with, I'm guessing, since not many others would fit as well with him. Noel would be easily led into more stupidity and danger because he doesn't think his own instincts and ideas are, like, valid; Simon is a loner in work-mode, even if he likes people, and does his best work on his own, has his own way of doing things no one else mucks around with; Seely's the same way, especially since his assignments aren't as talked-about as the rest of us. And speaking of the rest of us, the majority is usually doing work here, in the building, in the lab and in offices, except when Angelina goes out to meet with the people she helps.
Surprisingly, a lot of the work we do here isn't very action-based, mostly interviews and studying, but when there's a call for action, that's when Angel calls on his "field teams" - which, basically, are like thugs, I guess. Noel can sneak around and find things out; Simon gathers information but rarely comes to the office; Zach sniffs around himself and can confront evil baddies into talking without violence (though there's always potential for more there, even if I haven't seen it myself). Sometimes Angel himself will go out there and lend a hand, but that's in dire situations, and with the help of the others, always means they, like, "win." But he doesn't like getting involved – guess he feels he's too, like, dangerous or something if he loses control. Whereas the others who go "out there" don't mind losing control.
But back to the conversation at hand, at Angel's uttered apology, James shrugs, resigned to the fact that he's literally stuck with his would-be twin; but it's still clear the outrageous attitudes of Spike and Russell aren't giving him any confidence. Besides, despite this verbal wringing-out, James is safe in the knowledge that he does have an office – with me. Though he rarely uses it – or maybe he just avoids it because my work tends to, like, spread throughout the place and take over. I don't mean to drive him out, but he's out there working most of the time anyway, so I don't think he cares.
"Well, if we're so inept," Spike shoots back scathingly, "why don't you send your bloody brother on missions with us!? You seem to trust him with important shit--"
"Seely has his own agendas to carry out," Angel replies flatly, as if there's to be no further argument or discussion about it as he stands straight again. "He doesn't have time for the side missions I toss to you three."
"Side missions!?" Russell sputters in disbelief. "So we're basically just cleaning up messes while the real pros have a crack at the real jobs?"
Angel, like James before him, shrugs carelessly. "Yeah, if that's how you wanna put it..."
Russell snorts derisively again, twisting his head away in disgust.
"But," Angel goes on, "it seems, after more investigation, this gemstone is becoming more of a vital assignment, so I'm giving it over to a group I feel will have more success with it – and will have more knowledge of it as well."
He takes the pile of papers from Jen and hands them to a startled Seely, who sits up straighter suddenly.
"Wha--me? Looking for a rock?"
"A stone," Chris corrects from his perch in his typical soft-spoken tone. "A precious and dangerous gemstone. Very powerful – and very lethal when in the hands of the wrong person. It was safe in a government facility until three months ago, when it went missing, stolen by someone who worked in the facility. Now not even the person who was discovered to have stolen it knows where it is, as it was taken from him not long after he'd escaped with it. It's now reported as missing and critical."
Ju lets out a scoff beside me and mutters, "Best not to leave that one for those two to muck about with, then..." Clearly referring to Russell and Spike.
Spike merely glowers at him, and Ju shrinks back a bit behind Zach's form, out of Spike's sight, no doubt regretting speaking his mind.
Thankfully, no rough-housing starts up as Angel continues with his true purpose.
"The government overseeing the recovery of it hasn't had any success finding it," he goes on, very business-like now, "and has confidentially requested local police departments to initiate local investigations. But according to information Simon and Rich have uncovered, there hasn't been any success there either. Simon struck up a deal with an informant from this city's police department to utilize our resources, so we've got a job to do – and if we come through on this one, not only will we be possibly be saving lives, but it'll definitely boost our reputation. We'll be more trusted by the police, who do have some confidence in us, but also have their doubts as well. Maybe we can eliminate some of those doubts this way and get them on our side, get them to ask us for help more easily when they're at a loss."
He points between Rich and Noel, his gaze steadily focused on his twin.
"The three of you will take up the case, as I think it'll be more successful in the hands of those more detail-oriented and logical than the last group. You'll basically be their cover while they work together to figure out where the stone could be--"
But Angel's cut off as Russell outright laughs, pointing to the back of Noel's dark head. "Him? Logical!? He's still devastated by the thought that Julian ran over the Easter Bunny!"
Finally, Noel spins around to him, looking insulted at first – but then putting on his rarely displayed face of seriousness. Even his tone is uncharacteristically stern, which grabs the attention of many others in the room who would never have expected it from him – Angelina included... but not me or Zach, surprisingly (Chris isn't even startled by someone lighting his hair on fire). "Oi! I may have an active imagination, but that doesn't mean I'm an idiot! I can be logical when it's appropriate. Figure out the difference between having a good time and knowing when to concentrate, you twat."
And for him to be that firm even takes Angel back a bit. And Noel calling Russell – his "mate," his friend, his flirt buddy – a twat, that means Noel's not fucking around. I guess getting an assignment like this weighs a bit more in importance than being the cheerful little tart he usually is.
Russell isn't able to continue his unbelieving giggles, and Angel raises his eyebrows, assuring the Gypsy, "He's better than you give him credit for. Or than you've proved yourself."
Noel turns back, the strict air gone, and smiles the familiar idiot smile up at him. "Thanks, boss!"
Angel rolls his eyes, uttering under his breath, "Still doesn't mean you're not an idiot."
Noel quirks an eyebrow at him, pursing his lips, but says nothing to instigate another pointless banter session – especially if "the boss" is... mostly on his side.
Chris
Within an hour after the meeting, I could hear the din below my office as Angel tried to get Rich settled in (and Noel began taking spare pieces from around the building and shifting them into his new office – not that he needed any of it, as Angel had already set it up for them to his own liking, but Noel needs to feel cluttered and disorganised to be comfortable).
My office – more like a library of objects next to the real library of books – isn't quite above theirs; I simply have very delicate ears. Many people here believe I'm something of a psychic because I always know who is coming to visit me and when, perhaps speaking their names before they reach my doorway. This isn't the case. I merely recognise the rhythm of each individual's gait on the tiled floor outside my (rustic) carpeted room and hear them coming. The business-like clatter of Angelina's sleek stilettos, the nervous titter of Jen's wedged heels (the rare times she's forced to come speak to me, if she hasn't found an excuse to keep away; she feels awkward enough being stationed at the desk several metres from my door, poor girl), the lazy but cheerful swagger of Booth's suave black shoes, the giddy and upbeat "skipping" of Noel's fancy boots, the angry stomping of Spike's not-so-fancy boots, the reluctant shuffle of Julian's loafers when Sendhil's too busy to let me enjoy his own buoyant, scattered, hurried pace.
I do pay attention. I just don't think others pay attention enough to realise I pay attention. Because I interpret situations and life in different ways – but come out with similar conclusions as everyone else.
Like after the meeting, as Zach caught Sendhil at the foot of the staircase, while others went about their business (apart from Noel pausing to glance surreptitiously over his shoulder at Zach with a sly smirk before heading down to his new basement office), I stood a good three metres away from them at reception, as Jen would certainly be held up by details in Angel's office for quite a while. Intrigued by the unusual initiation on Zach's part (and preferring to catch a few extra gulps of fresh lobby air before being closed up in my musty office again – not that I mind it, really, but once in a while I like the light), I occupy myself by toying with some of Jen's pens, making them stand upright on their tips, at the same time overhearing the timid, low rumbles from Zach's throat, and Sendhil's clueless yet earnest replies.
Zachary started out promising, asking – confirming – if Sendhil would be working late tonight. Which he always does, of course. After that rather typical exchange, Zach began to backslide and I knew he was losing his nerve. I twirled one of the upended pens and infused it with a touch of positive Light energy, playfully "zapping" Zach from behind without him even noticing, and he managed to utter, "I... I have some questions about an artifact related to a case I'm working on. Do you think you could take a look at it when you're not busy? Later, of course. I'll be working late too, so there's no rush. I just need to figure out some... some of its properties, and I don't know much about the science of artifacts..."
Sendhil's eyes were wide, startled. "Wow," he chuckled. "I don't think I've heard you speak that much since you started here!"
Zach stumbled back into his hesitant nature, so I spun the second pen to direct another sly burst of invisible nerve into his back.
Perhaps my intentions were a bit too strong that time, as Zach literally jolted with a start. But then he blurted out rapidly, "Maybe we can have dinner together tonight – in the lab – and work on it?"
Maybe he was automatically expecting a flat-out rejection, but Sendhil hardly let on that he suspected anything but what Zach had spoken, and nodded immediately. "Oh, sure, sure. I'm working on speculation on what this gemstone of... Jak...Well, you know... I'm working on suspected reasons for its powers right now, but sure, I could use a reminder to eat now and then. I think I work better while I'm eating too," he grinned, and patted Zach on the arm as he added, "and having good company around, an interested party no less, while I work helps too. So I'll see you after six or so? Julian and Noel leave around then, so we can work on it together."
Together... Alone...
I could clearly see Zach's back tense up, even if I was poised in the opposite direction – I just knew the idea of being alone with Sendhil was surreal, terrifying, yet a dream come true for the Halfie.
I glanced back briefly over my shoulder to see Zach give a shaky but affirmative nod, and Sendhil smiled and continued on his way to the lab. Then Zach stood there for a moment, dumbstruck, until he must have sensed my presence and turned to me – just as I turned my attention back on Jen's twirling pens, starting the third one up just as the other two lifted themselves from the desktop.
He took a few steps toward me and I spoke quietly but clearly, "I suspect you have need to ask something of me?"
He stopped short, startled. "Uh... how... how did you--"
I turned around to him, pens still spinning, all hovering now, and raised my eyebrows. "I thought you might. Would you like me to find an artifact to study?"
"Yes, please," he went on earnestly, coming closer. "It's a ring, a sort of emerald stone ring found on the corpse we recovered of that Utar female whose children Angelina's finding a foster home for right now. It wasn't on her finger, but it was found on her person, so I think something is important about it that the people who killed her and her husband were trying to find it – I don't think it was entirely a race-related murder. I have my paperwork upstairs, but I'm sure they gave any pertinent object findings to you..."
As he went on in a somber but intense tone, my eyes widened (more than usual; a Human once told me that for them, a lack of blinking eyelids and the ability to see the whites of one's eyes entirely around the iris are signs of insanity – I recall vaguely telling that person that Utars aren't completely different from Humans, so his assessment could be accurate... I also recall vaguely that I couldn't tear my wide, unblinking eyes away from his back as he rapidly walked away from me), which made him trail off. He regarded me suspiciously.
"It doesn't sound familiar?"
I blinked finally, shaking myself out of my stupor. "Oh – no, no, yes, I know exactly which artifact you refer to – and yes, it does seem to be of genuine Utarian origin, a true artifact, so your instinct may prove legitimate. I'll go get it for you, shall I?..." And as I unsteadily sauntered back to my office, I was completely aware of the stunned expression following after me.
Zach may not have known how or why, but he must have been a bit surprised to know he'd managed to stump me. Not about the ring, not about a Halfie with no outward signs of Utar powers going on a gut feeling and being quite accurate. But the truth had nothing to do with his investigative abilities without the advantage of active Utarian powers. Many Humans and Utars have proved to me that one is no better or worse than the other; but some are exceptionally talented in areas the opposite race would not expect of them.
The truth was fantastically more simple than that, and I found myself bemused by the simplicity of it, and how easily this "simplicity" had confused me. I'd figured he'd made up the story of needing help about an object on the spur of the moment, and was going to ask for my help in finding something that seemed legitimate enough to worm a dinner together – alone – with Sendhil out of him. A coy, work-related excuse.
Who knew he'd actually had a legitimate reason? That was what I hadn't expected. It was a mere convenience that he could use, he must have realised in that last second.
The fact that someone had managed to pull something unexpected on me, while at the same time getting dinner with Sendhil – well, that was a double win on his part, whether he realised it or not.
Curious, I thought to myself as I hunted down his ring. A mere Half-blood managing to throw me off, the unflappable, "out there" Nispar who hardly responded to his own name occasionally. I wasn't offended or slighted in the least – more like... impressed. Obviously this rare specimen had been a very good choice for Angel's team. After only five years, he'd managed to faze me, while Sendhil himself, whom I'd worked with on different projects for over a decade, had never made me twitch once; it usually takes a normal Human or Utar at least a decade – or a coy betrayal – to do that. He was clearly a special boy.
A few moments after Zach entered my office to obtain the ring and I began to explain some details to him, a violent shriek coming from the lobby jerked us out of our conversation. But before Zach could even reach the door to see what was going on, I let out a sigh when I remembered: Oh yeah... Jen's pens.
Angel
I moan when Noel drags a ceramic statue, about half his own size, of a cherubic, nude, childlike faux fountain into the office, which is already packed with two desks, a sofa, and three chairs (one for each desk and one pointless recliner Noel had found stashed away in Chris's office – turned out it was several years old, had no real purpose, and Chris claimed it was found at the scene of a crime but had no real "artifact-related" uses, but no one ever came to claim it). Apart from the ridiculous amount of furniture for such a small room, there's a mountain of silly trinkets, creepy dolls (still not "set up" as Noel visualized), and five tins of sweets he'd sneakily snatched from various others' offices and desks (three from Jen's alone, probably just to get on her nerves) piled on his desk.
He reluctantly gives over one of the candy tins to Rich's desk as the tall scarecrow of a man eyes up the mess with a bemused expression, but says not a word about his new partner's quirky insistence that their office needs to be less bland than everyone else's.
"I know we got missions and important stuff to do, yeah?" Noel huffs as he maneuvers the statue into a corner beside his desk. "But I've gotta have a little style in any place that's deemed `my own.'"
"You forget," I point out from the sofa at the far end of the room, opposite the door, "that it's not just 'your office.' Maybe Rich would like to add a few things. Useful things. Like filing cabinets, or shelves--"
But Rich shrugs it off carelessly as he slides into his seat. "Don't matter to me. I got nothin', really. I'll leave the decor to the expert."
At the compliment, Noel turns a beaming smile on him, eyes glittering. "Cool! Oh! I've got some paintings I done at home I could bring in for you, may be up your alley – er, well, what my first impression of what your alley would be, anyway – so I'll fetch em tomorrow morning and put em up on your side if you like--"
Rich shrugs again, playing absently with the latch on the sweets tin. "Sounds good to me. Wouldn't mind seeing an Avaraura's artwork."
Not even acknowledging or questioning how Rich knows his heritage, Noel claps his hands and exclaims, "Great!" Then sets to work on lining up his dolls on a shelf behind and above his desk, as I roll my eyes and shove myself out of my seat.
"Well, in between your setting-up," I growl irritably, "could you please spare some time to do some actual work on this case? It is pretty damn important." And I start to stomp out of the room, just as Seely reaches the doorway, hands still full of the packet I'd given him at the meeting.
"Oh," he says brightly. "You're out of your office? This is rare--"
"I was trying to oversee the move," I grind out, glaring back at Noel's crestfallen face (and I instantly feel guilty for being so brash – damn, why's that kid affect everyone so much!?) and Rich's slightly sympathetic glance at him. Instead of continuing my temper tantrum, now that Noel's reduced me to guilt and Seely clearly has business to discuss with them (reassuring me they won't reel off track right away after my public display of confidence in them), I merely finish softly, "But I suppose that's unnecessary. Just do what you need to," I go on, passing a hint of a glance at Noel myself as an apology, "and I trust you'll be fine."
His sheepish look brightens and he waves a disfigured Barbie doll at me. "Don't worry, boss! I'm good at multi-tasking!"
I nod and turn to leave, muttering under my breath, "I'm sure you are..."
Seely
So once my gloomy bro leaves the room, I close the door behind me and grin at the sofa with approval. "Aw, Noel, ya thought of me, that's sweet."
He grins back knowingly. "I know your stuffy little closet space Angel thinks is your office isn't good enough for you, and since we'll be workin' together, I figured you should be comfortable when you're down here too, right?"
I let out a sigh of relief as I toss the packet of info onto Rich's desk and flop backwards onto the couch, reveling in the fact that it fits me perfectly, even down to my classy black shoes. I put my hands behind my head and muse, "Where'd you even find this thing?"
"It was already down here when we came in, actually," Rich answers seriously as he pages through the contents of the packet – destroying the illusion that this was Noel's idea with me in mind; but Noel doesn't seem at all perturbed by this – too into his decorating to notice. "I'm guessing Angel brought it in ages ago – payment from a client who couldn't afford your services monetarily, but dealt in trade instead. But there was no room for it anywhere else."
Noel giggles, hanging a gaping-mouthed skull from a rusty bent nail coming out of his shelf. "I think he hid it away down here so's you wouldn't know about it."
I roll my eyes. "He always was a little stiff about that. My so-called office upstairs only has a tiny desk, a cabinet, and a creaky old wooden chair. I guess he figured I'd always be out on missions, so I don't need a proper office space to settle into."
"Feel free to settle in here," Rich assures me absently, brow furrowed over the info from the packet he studies. "I doubt Noel would mind. He'd probably prefer more people packed into one room."
There's no denial from the smaller man's still-grinning mouth.
I quirk an eyebrow up at Rich. "And you? Do you mind?"
He finally lifts his gaze – now slack and dull – and peers at me. "I don't care. A sofa's a sofa. If you fit, it must mean you're meant for it."
I smirk at his explanation.
"Or," he adds with a twist of his own lips as he turns a page and lowers his head again, "you've just finally found a place to sleep at work where Angel might be less apt to catch you, instead of the tiny little leather job in Angelina's office."
"Maybe," Noel continues with a snicker – as he rearranges a bundle of Russian eggs into a particular scheme, "he's trying to keep you from hitting on her so much."
I gawk at their private smiles, about to bolt upright – but the plush sofa's too snug to bother, so I merely scoff, "I do not hit on her; we're good friends and we get along. Maybe there's some flirting sometimes, but I don't hit on her. What's he know?"
"Well," Noel chirps (now celo-taping onto the wall beside the shelf some crude but still beautifully rendered illustrations from an open sketchbook he's ripping pages out of), "we all know you two get on like a house on fire, and you like taking Mad out for ice cream when his mum's too busy, so I'm pretty sure we all know the next step for that one..."
Rich, surprisingly, is nodding along with him. "And though the typical unspoken rule in a traditional office is not to get involved with colleagues in businesses, this place is hardly what anyone would consider traditional. Which is just one reason I'm already liking it here. But I'm sure Angel wants to try to keep interpersonal relationships to a minimum, and very low-key if possible--"
"--or slow as a snail--" Noel grumbles.
"--so it doesn't interfere with work." Rich finishes his reading – which is amazing, as it took me an hour to get through the thing, despite already knowing most of the particulars – and closes the file, folding his hands together on top of it and smiling benignly at me over his desk. "Whether it's because you're his brother and Angelina is a beautiful but busy single mother, one he highly respects and cherishes as a friend and employee, or all that other office policy bullshit, my instinct tells me he wants to make sure you two take it slow, so she won't get burned again. And with her son taking quite a shine to you while he's usually wary of most men, the possibility of something going wrong and dissolving both those relationships would not only hurt you two, but Mad would be traumatized."
I gawk at them both, as Noel nods along while turning fluidly to accept the file Rich holds out to him – without a word or a look at him, cold blue eyes still locked on me. I note in the back of my head that this partnership is obviously gelling far faster than any of us would have guessed, and I'm impressed by that. But then, Noel's easy to warm up to naturally, and though I don't know Rich well at all, he seems the type to take things in stride; must have sized up Noel eerily accurately within minutes of seeing him at the meeting.
But that's not my main concern at the moment, as I blurt out, "How the hell do you people know about this stuff!?"
"Please," Noel sputters as he leans back on his desk and starts reading the file – much slower than Rich... It'll probably take him three hours, if not more. Not that he's thick (honestly), but he admitted to me once confidentially that, not only does he think he's a little dyslexic, but wasn't properly taught how to read until his teens. He didn't divulge much else about his upbringing, but hinted that it wasn't a very pleasant one. And with all the wars and troubles today, it's hardly a surprise. In fact, it's rare to find anyone who doesn't have a sob story – luckily, many of them have tried moving past their tragedies and prefer not to dwell on them.
Actually, funny as it may seem, Angel and I are most likely the least fractured in this entire company. Sure, we had our fair share of traumas, but our childhood and family life was unusually happy and stable. Any problems that got to us emotionally happened when we were already adults. Probably Jen, too – she hardly knows how to take a phone message, but I'm damn sure she came from wealth and privilege, which explains her ineptitude.
The girl was pampered all her life. And she's just stupid.
But still, Noel's going on as his eyes move slowly, unsteadily over the pages, "The rest of us have been seein' it go down for years, mate. And since Rich's been hangin' out with Angel and Simon for a month now--"
I actually do sit up now, spinning to Rich. "Did he talk about me behind my back!? What'd he tell you!?"
Rich is non-plussed at my outburst. He stands from his chair and saunters over to Noel's desk, picking through the remaining toys and trinkets. "He told me about all of you, so I'd get an idea of who I'd be working with. He had to mention your history of being a sniper--"
Noel lifts his head suddenly, wide eyes peering at me in wonder. "You were a sniper?"
I lean forward on my knees and glare at the floor. "Let it go, Noel – I can't talk about it."
He lowers the file to his desk and tilts his head to the side in sympathy. "Must be hard to talk about--"
"I mean," I snap bitterly, "I can't talk about it, because it's confidential."
He bites his lip and picks up the file again. "Oh. Okay. Fair enough."
Rich is blinking at Noel. "You didn't know that?"
"No," I answer for him. "Because it's supposed to be..."
"Confidential," Noel nods, pressing a finger to his lips in understanding. "Got it."
"But I'm sure he shared this information with me for a reason," Rich goes on. "Because, as he said, it's more important than we realized, this gemstone, and this mission might get dangerous." He gives Noel a poignant look and tells him, "He assigned this to us because he knows we can do it – but he's not saying we're expendable. Otherwise, he wouldn't have assigned his own brother to be our guard. Our cover, remember? He wants only the best to keep his team safe."
Noel holds his gaze steadily, nodding slowly as he lets the facts sink in. "And his brother--"
"--is the best," Rich confirms.
Despite the complimentary banter, I cut in, "Well, okay, but why's he gotta tell ya about my friendship with Angie, or Mad?"
"To keep you... in line, I guess," Rich suggests, pulling three small pewter statuettes of the Utar Pillar Spirits Utral, Avaraura, and Sheestraszah from the pile – the spirits of strength and power; art and illusion; knowledge and wisdom (generally thought of as "psychics"); respectively. He sets the art spirit on Noel's bony shoulder, and it inevitably tumbles off, but the skinny Utar catches it easily, smiling at the familiar beauty in his hands. Rich then leans over to hand me Utral. The spirit of wisdom he holds up to his eyes, studying it carefully.
"These combined skills should protect, help and guide us." He lowers the statuette and eyes me up with a tiny smile. "He doesn't want you to get distracted with matters of your heart while we stake our lives on this mission. That's why he told me – so I would be aware of what's important to you, and keep you from destroying that, without letting Noel and myself be harmed."
His voice is like a droning buzz in my ears, not dulling me into submission, but calming me into acceptance. Slowly, I nod once and feel myself growing stoic through his words. I clutch the statuette firmly and assure him, "Then I won't let you – either of you – or Angel down. And if I need to, I'll be honest about my duties with Angie and Mad--"
"But vague."
"Um... Yeah, of course," with little conviction.
"If they know too much, they may get dragged into it – which I know you would never want."
"Of course." And this time I mean it.
Noel, meanwhile, is gnawing his lower lips into a reddened sore, and the look in his eyes as he stares at Rich is obviously fearful. "Uh... That bad, huh?"
Rich shrugs, then holds up the statuette. "Can I keep this one on my desk?"
Noel hesitates, glancing over his shoulder at the other figurines. "Well, it's part of a set, but..." Then he turns back and beams at him. "Sure. Seems to suit you."
Rich props the statuette neatly in the center of his desk and looks satisfied.
And then, as Noel flounders through the rest of the file, Rich and I do our best to start the discussion angle of the mission – having to pause several times to explain more for Noel, but Rich's patience is saintly, not to mention contagious, and by the time we get through half of it, the three of us are sitting on the floor and going back and forth like we've been working together since I started this place with my brother. Even more astounding is Noel's eye and mind for detail – just as he'd insisted at the meeting, but no one really took seriously. He actually makes several points Rich and I had overlooked – or hadn't been able to process without Noel's abilities. The team is forming as we go, and it's the first one I've felt this confident, this strong about; unlike the previous few "team" missions I've had, where I felt distant or disjointed. Despite only being seen as "the muscle" in this assignment by my brother, Rich and Noel include me in on every detail, making sure all three of us are on the same page and are at the same level of understanding.
And damn, I realize before we even get to the second half – this gem thingy is way older and more lethal than the other team had taken it, and if we don't find it fast, loads of people will suffer.
The other surprise I get is, when we pause so Noel can get us some food, I'm alone with Rich, and remembering his words from earlier, about both heart and mind, plus his tone and his obvious display of intellect and an ability to connect with people he's just met, I come to the conclusion that he must have heritage in him which derives from the very statuette he managed to separate from Noel's set (my own piece having already been retrieved when I nearly dropped it and Noel shrilly scolded me as he snatched it back).
But when I look at Rich to ask this, now being so close, the words die on my lips – I've just now noticed that those icy but wise eyes are completely round, just a mere circle. No star-shaped iris at all.
This man who emits such a strong Utarian air about him, who obviously has an attachment to that particular Pillar Spirit of knowledge, who's worked thoroughly for years with Utars – is plainly Human. There is no trace of Utar magic in his veins – but still, a magic of his own resides behind those deceivingly dull eyes. This man has to be a genius.
A Human that impressive on my team – that's nothing but a reassurance.