She stood idly by the doorframe, holding her breath. Count to ten, they'd taught her. And when you're done counting to ten, count to twenty. And then to thirty and to forty, until you're surprised with how high you've managed to count without having a sound, any sound, interrupt you. Then you'll know it's safe to make your way through.
And so she did. She counted to eighty four, and then to one hundred and twenty seven, and then to two hundred thirty five. That should have made almost four minutes, which was exactly how long it took to tiptoe her way from her dormitory to the back of the auditorium, if she sprinted rather than walked.
She tiptoed better with no shoes on, but figured it would be quite cold outside and suddenly felt far too fond of her socks as to stain them. So she slipped her quietest slippers, heard a rustle by the window (counted to seventy seven, just to be sure it had been just the wind) and darted outside.
She did not dare light her way. She tiptoed in the dark, attentive for his footsteps. It would be a lie to say she didn't feel, for just the shortest moment, disappointed not to find his shadowy figure hidden among the many of such a shadowy spot. She had been, after all, forty four seconds late.
And it would also be a lie to say she did not feel, just for the shortest moment, impressed, when she felt his long, colds finger tap on her shoulder. He didn't make a sound. Not an approaching stomp, a pip, or a squeak. Not a creak or a faint leap. Had she been any less skilled herself, she would have gasped. Or jumped. Or gasped and jumped. Instead, she said "You are forty seven seconds late."
"Forty seven seconds are hardly a dramatic entrance, Kit Snicket. I would even say I was twenty nine minutes thirteen seconds early" he responded smugly, his eyes glimmering in the dark. At this point, it had begun to seem to her that smug was the only tone he knew. She could almost hear the smile that came with it, and she couldn't say she was too keen of it.
"Then you're in luck, O" she remarked on the vowel, letting him know protocol was not to be forgotten or skipped "as I would have left in precisely thirteen seconds. Eight now. Regardless, I appreciate you coming" she admitted, with slight thuds in between.
Mental note: vegetable fueled flashlights do not work as quickly, or well, as regular ones. Do not use again. Finally, a dim, green light made itself present, and she could have a better look at him. It seemed incredible that his hair could get even messier, and that he stood as nonchalant as ever. Without squinting at the flashlight, or looking in any way less awake than he did during supper.
"It better not have been for nothing, K" he grunted, hinting that even though he looked as sharp as he did at any other time of the day, he would much rather be in bed. And he dragged the last consonant as well, letting her know he didn't care for protocol and was rather annoyed that she insisted on using it at such an unseemly hour. The sight of her without her glasses was rather odd, but he couldn't say he disliked it. Her nose looked better that way, more upturned. And her eyes were wider. Livelier. More awake.
"I hope it isn't. I truly do. But ultimately, it is up to you", she responded. At this point, it had begun to seem to him that she enjoyed dragging people out of bed in the middle of the night and overcomplicating conversation for the sake of histrionics. Bothersome as it would seem, he was willing to indulge. "How?"
"Very simple. You must tell me if you are willing to trust me, or not. I am inclined to believe you are and you already do, since you are standing here. But then again, you may not. Curiosity is the lust of the mind, yet merely being lewd is never any good."
Her use of the word 'lewd' caused him to chuckle lightly. It was a childish chuckle that just slipped, and he gulped to try and cover it up. She was being far too serious for him to try and turn the moment into more of a comedic skit. He wouldn't want to spoil it. Sometimes the veiled fellowship's duties got on his nerves, but he could appreciate the gravitas of the whole affair. "If I say I do, will you just say whatever it is you want to say?"
"Only if you mean it."
"I mean it. You're seeing me in my pajamas," he lip serviced, opening his arms and glancing down. There lied the burden of being gifted. Couldn't let a single opportunity pass him by! Now it was her who couldn't help chuckling. Those were ridiculous pajamas.
No. She couldn't afford chuckling. Not with the situation and message in hand. He had to mean it. The chuckle had to come and go as quickly as her flashlight's incessant flicker, and it dragged his smile along.
"I was given a task, and I need an associate to complete it. It's a task I dare not involve L or J in."
"And you're daring to involve me? We've barely met."
"I am deciding to trust you, Olaf. And I'm asking for your trust in return. You are on top of the class that matters for this task, and you could meet me without getting caught. Even after I waited forty seven seconds just to see if I could catch you myself. I needn't know much else."
Penny dropped. Riddle solved! She had been trying him. All this library and midnight meeting nonsense had just been her dipping her toes in the water, making sure it was fit to dive in for a swim. He should be more annoyed by it. Really, he should be. Typical volunteer. They couldn't just do whatever needed doing. No. They had to turn it into Victorian, Elizabethan, or whatever fiction and slap a poem on it.
Except he was an actor, so he wasn't annoyed, not really. Instead he was … proud? No, not proud. Flattered? No. Of course he was good enough to not get caught. That was 'spy one-o-one'. And of course he was on top of drama class. It was innate. Intrigued was more like it. Satisfied.
"Fine. I trust you back, Kit Snicket. What's the job?"
"Four identical objects hidden, or for a more accurate choice of words, being safe kept, in four different locations. We must retrieve them", she began, her voice fading into a fainter whisper. "We do not have a timeframe on it, not for now at least. However, we do not have much guidance either. And once we have retrieved the first one, we will have absolutely no help."
"What objects?"
"After I tell you, you will be hopelessly, irrevocably, unbreakably bounded to this mission. After I tell you, you'll be fully compromised until its completion. Do you understand?"
"I know what taking on a mission means" he huffed, growing a little too impatient with all this mystifying. Even he knew there was such thing as too much flare.
"It is no ordinary mission, O," she emphasized again, even if she'd just been the one to get them back on name basis, "which is why I need you to be absolutely certain, so I can be absolutely certain my trust is not misplaced."
"Just say it already"
"Typewriters"
"Typewriters?" he paused. His face scrunched into a frown, and it relieved her. She needed him to take this seriously. "Those typewriters? Four of them?"
"Yes. Four typewriters"
"What for?" he asked, his scrunch getting scrunchier.
They had been taught not to ask this sort of thing. They had been taught that for everything a reason, and the reason would more often than not become clear after the thing. Both lingered in silence for a few moments. Both could imagine why and what for – I must tell you, one of them knew for sure- yet neither of them dared to say it.
It made much more sense to him now, that she had been so mystifying. This was risky, bold, and unsound. He would not have gone any differently about it. Well, actually, he would have. What made less sense was that she'd come to him. Exceptional as he was, he was still essentially a stranger to her.
They looked at each other, quietly. He narrowed his eyes, and she held his gaze without a flinch. Almost without a blink.
"It's strictly need to know, and we needn't know more than that. How many, and where to find the first one," she spoke at last.
He could see it now. She really needn't know much about him. Because if she did, she might grow to care. And if she cared, and they were compromised, chaos would ensue. That was why she couldn't trust her siblings, and had come to him instead. Come think about it, he felt the opposite of flattered.
"How can you be so sure you can trust me?" he asked once more, not bothering to whisper. She had tried him. Now he would try her.
"I've seen you in your pajamas" she responded simply, and gave him a smile he had not seen before. It wasn't stiff. It wasn't proud. It wasn't witty. It wasn't mocking. It wasn't secretive. It just was. Maybe it was small, he suspected all of her smiles were, but it was sufficient. She's good, he thought. Smiling that smile made her impossible to betray.
"And I've seen you in yours" he smiled back. It wasn't a sneer. It wasn't crooked. It wasn't grim. Maybe it was smug, she suspected all of his smiles were, but it was sufficient. He'll do, she thought.
"It's settled, then. Retrieving the first one will be the easiest part of it all. After the first one goes missing, suspicions will arise" she explained, and he nodded. He nodded and tried his best not to roll his eyes. That was obvious. Something, someone, was already missing. Suspicions were risen enough.
With every word of hers the reality of what he was being asked dawned on him, and he found himself thinking that midnight, that the back of an almost unused building, that whispering, that all these protocols weren't enough to disguise it. What were they getting into?
He felt the question and many other words rolling up his tongue when the wind stirred again. Leaves crunched. Windows rattled. — Both knew better than to think it was just the wind. They held their breath, looked at each other, and counted to ten. To Twenty. To thirty. To forty two. To forty seven.
They counted until he could no longer hold his breath, and she followed. Thud and click, she snuffed out their sole light. They counted until ten once again and when their eyes adjusted, they exchanged a look. The first look of trust.
"Library. Tomorrow. Eleven thirty. By the Rob Byre biography," she whispered. He nodded, and they both slid back into the shadows.
There was silence, and all night long there wasn't another noise.
One of them returned to the dormitory.
The other, did not.