[AN: AH. I forgot to add in the last notes that Darkleer's human name will be Edmund Hunter.
Your name for this chapter is Murdoc Donoghue, also known as Orphaner Dualscar.]
"Thir, did you want some coffee?"
Peter fidgets in the doorway, suddenly realising that hightailing it would have been the safer option. He can see that the man behind desk seems to be sizing him up before the recognition appears on his face, and Peter's stomach drops and he tenses. No wonder he has such a nice office; he was the lawyer who had fought to get Duncan put in prison. Against their lawyer, who was practically lady liberty herself, he had been brutal. He spoke as if the crimes committed were not simply made against the company, but to Miss Crocker herself.
The other man grunts in response, leaning back into his chair with a look of discontent. "What I want is a computer, that actually FUCKIN' works!" He exclaims, clicking the mouse furiously as if that might help. Peter isn't really sure what to say to that, though he's resisting the urge to tell him that clicking the mouse doesn't magically fix everything. "An' of course every single person in the damn I.T department is "busy", they're always busy. Always!" He throws his hands up in the air before sinking further into his seat. "Not that you'd know that. You're new, aren't you? Let me give you a hint before you fuck up, never trust those moles down there in the I.T department. They don't even know what RAM is. Stupid fuckers..."
Swallowing both his pride and his underlying resentment from the day at court, Peter steps forward, neglecting his coffee tray near the door. He couldn't help but be curious as to what could be causing the man, or rather, the computer, such grief.
"Thir..?" He starts, his eyes wandering to the name plate on his desk, the name "M. DONOGHUE" engraved in plain, capitals. Donoghue raises a single eyebrow at Peter's abandonment of his coffee duties.
"Yes..?" He asks, the singular word seeming so bland compared to his previous ramblings that were embellished with a thick accent and curses.
"I might be able to help; I'm pretty good with computerth." He shrugs lightly and rubs the back of his neck, taking another step closer. Donoghue looks sceptical at first and then he shrugs and rolls his chair back to give Peter room to look.
"You can't fuck it up more than it already is, I suppose." His voice sounds relaxed, but the expression on his face is obviously suspicious.
Peter nips in front of his computer, a frown appearing on his face as he sees it. The infamous blue screen of death had struck again, and Peter can't help but wonder what the other man could have done to screw it up so badly. He strikes some keys before ducking under the desk to unplug it from the power source, only to plug it in again. The awkward silence is overwhelming as Donoghue just watches him silently, and Peter can feel the judgement radiating from him as the computer slowly switches back to life. He wishes it would hurry up so he can start fixing this brick with a keyboard and mouse so the man can stop staring at him.
He pats the computer, knowing it won't help it hurry up. This thing must be on its way to imminent death, it was so old. As the screen lights up, he wonders how the other even had it running today. Peter stares down at the screen before glancing over his shoulder at the man behind him. Donoghue returns Peter's look with a raised eyebrow before realising. He rolls the chair forward, bumping Peter out of the way to start typing. Everything in this company is under lock and key - the computers require an eight digit login and an even longer password. Or perhaps the man was just so paranoid that he felt such a long password was necessary, anything was plausible.
Suddenly, a killer whale filled the screen as his desktop icons began to load over a picture of an orca poking its head out of the sea jovially. Most of the screens Peter had seen today had been adorned with beautiful, scantily clad women or pictures of family members, or pets, and so the whale came as something of a surprise. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter can see Donoghue's haughty expression go blank. He stares at the whale as if he had forgotten it was his background, and then he wheels back again and picks up a loose piece of paper as if it's something terribly important that he must read. A little amused but even more confused, Peter turns back to the screen.
Donoghue watches him over the top of the paper, but what Peter is doing is a mystery to him. He watches as he taps the keyboard with a trained speed, pulling open windows full of words and numbers that the lawyer never cared to discover the meaning of. Peter works fast; he's already found a virus and he's already working on changing the computers security settings. With a final click of the mouse in his hand, he pulls away and turns to Donoghue, who is making a show of not being interested in what the other is doing.
In turn, Peter makes a show of rolling his eyes at the other before speaking up. "Thir..?"
Donoghue's head jerks up immediately, clearly surprised at his attention being pulled away from the important piece of paper. "Hmm? Ah! Done already?" He looks up at Peter curiously. "Clearly you don't work for I.T." He rolls himself forward, not seeing Peter cringe at his terrible joke as he leans forward to poke about on his computer.
"Microsoft Office generally thaveth any files you had open before it crathed, provided they had been saved at some point. It lookth like you haven't lotht anything this time. You thould probably thtart thaving thtuff more often if you.." Peter pauses as Donoghue looks up at him. Is he really about to school this guy on computers? Granted, he was stupid enough to get all of those viruses and not adept enough to rid the computer of them, but…okay. Yes, he needed to be schooled. "You need to thart thaving thtuff more often incase thomething really goeth wrong. Ethpecially if the I.T Department is ath bad ath you keep thaying it ith."
Donoghue lowers his eyelids, revealing that the scars do continue on over them. He blinks slowly, as though he's slowly absorbing everything Peter just said. Peter stares back, feeling like the tiniest fish being sized up by an inquisitive shark. "I have a laptop too, if you want to take a look at it." Donoghue chips in, finally breaking the silence. Peter feels an eyebrow rise at the suggestion, and he's almost interested in seeing whether his laptop background is a whale too, but he's sure that he's got other things that he's meant to be doing right now.
"As much ath I'd like to be a one man I.T department." He starts, jerking his thumb at the coffee trolley. "My other job is kind of my priority." Donoghue glances over at the coffee, looking almost too thoughtful for a man who's casually glancing at an inanimate object.
He rises from his chair, holding out his hand for a shake. "I never got your name." He leaves the statement open ended with the implication that he's curious. Peter stares at the hand and he can't even remember the last time he'd actually shook someone's hand out of formality. It seemed to be a dying practise these days.
"It'th Peter," he mumbles as he gingerly takes the hand and is given a firm shake. Peter heard a long time ago from his father that you can tell a lot about a man from his handshake, and he wondered what it meant if it was firm and official but surprisingly brief. It was obviously just a formality to the other man, even though Peter began to feel as though his own shake had left much to be desired.
"Peter. Do you have a last name, Peter?" He raises an eyebrow down at Peter, who looks away in embarrassment. Of course he was expected to give a full name, this is an office, not a school or a bar. He clears his throat, feeling that same awkwardness creep into the room again.
"Jamesth-Fan. Peter Jamesth-Fan." Peter blurts out. Donoghue commits it to memory with a small nod.
"That's a mouthful." Donoghue says, hinting once again that he's curious.
"I wath adopted, my parenth wanted me to keep my heritage or thomething." Peter explains, fidgeting and glancing about all the while until his eyes settle on the name plate. "Tho what doesth the 'M' thtand for?" Peter inquires. Donoghue throws Peter an annoyed look for the brief answer and eventual derailing of the lawyer's mini interrogation.
He speaks up, finally and answers him. "It's Murdoc." With that brief answer, he turns his back before Peter can even reply. He bends down, pulling something rectangular out from a shelf before turning to reveal that it's his laptop, even though Peter said he didn't have time to look at it. Peter looks back at his coffee trolley and then to the clock on the wall, hoping Murdoc gets the hint. If he does, he isn't showing it. He crosses the room and opens the door, beckoning for Peter. Peter cocks his head to the side, unsure if he should follow him.
"Thir…?" Peter asks hesitantly before taking a step forward.
"Forget the coffee, Fan." Murdoc retorts, grunting at the other and beckoning again. "I've a meetin' with someone who I think you should see," he adds, turning to open the door and walk out of it. It's almost as though he's left the option to follow completely up to Peter, and he hesitates in the doorway. In his mind he lists of every reason he shouldn't follow. This man is the reason a good man and best friend is behind bars, this man is no good and he shouldn't be trusted. Somewhere amongst the confusion, though, a lone thought appears. Maybe he was just doing his job. Duncan had always been a firm believer in fate, just as much as he was a firm believer in change and humanity. Perhaps there was a grand scheme in the works that neither he nor Murdoc were fully aware of, so despite the man's abrasive nature, Peter was feeling himself inclined to follow, and it wasn't long before his legs agreed with the sentiment.
Peter slips into the open elevator before the doors can close on the man inside. Murdoc stayed facing forward, but then glanced at Peter from the corner of his eye, almost as though he's wordlessly thanking him. Peter tries not to read too deeply into these sorts of things, but some signs are more obvious than others.