A/N: Hey guys, look I'm updating, isn't it a miracle? lol
This is part one of chapter eight, really, it was getting too long, and the next half should be up sooner rather than later.
I love all you guys, don't have time for a shout-out this morning, but just know I truly appreciate every review, and get a lot of inspiration from them :)
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Ezra stared at the phone hesitantly, deciding whether it would be worth the risk of getting caught to acquire the knowledge he longed for. Truthfully, while he knew that Chris and A.D Travis were discussing him, he didn't know exactly what the topic was, the case, the medical mystery that had become his existence, or his future possibilities. Possibly, they were discussing his return to work. Ezra knew of course, that there was no way he would be going into the field, either undercover or in a more traditional role, but surely he could still research and perform other tasks, prove that he was still a valuable member of the team. If he were candid, it didn't matter what they were discussing exactly, all knowledge was valuable, you merely had to way the risks of obtaining it against the advantages it could give you. The ancient, corded phone that sat next to the workbench in the garage, a carry over from before cell-phones became a leash for the whole world that Mr. Larabee had never bothered to remove, did not require you to push a button to get on the line, merely to lift the receiver. If he did it slowly and carefully there was a decent chance neither man would notice.
Carefully he reached his hand out and laid it over the receiver, preparing to bring it up bit by bit, steady now, Ezra- "What do you think you're doing?" Hand flying away from the phone, Ezra forced himself to turn around slowly, smiling casually at Nathan despite the arms crossed across his chest and the annoyed look on his face.
"Ah was pursuing Chris's tools, Ah wanted to examine his carving knives."
"That why your hand was on the phone?" Nathan's voice was dry and his eyes knowing as he peered down at Ezra. Seeing that he was caught, Ezra gave the sheepish grin that would have softened any of his teammates, except apparently the man standing in front of him. And the man whose conversation he'd been trying to listen in to. Shifting on his feet, Nathan shook his head, "Eavesdropping is rude, you should know better than that. Already got yourself in trouble once today."
"But they're talking about me." Nathan did soften at that, a sigh leaving him as his arms dropped to his sides.
"Anything you really need to know Chris will tell you." Ezra gave him an incredulous look and Nathan nodded insistently, "Now, I'm not saying he's going to tell you everything, but anything really important, he will." That his definition of truly important likely did not mesh with Chris's was something Ezra was certain Nathan knew, and just wasn't going to mention. "Are you ready to go?" Ezra nodded, slightly sulkily, leaning back against the tool bench instead of moving towards his teammate. Nathan had left his car at the office the night before and rode with Josiah, so they were both riding in with Chris and then doing...something. Nathan hadn't actually told him what they were doing, and part of Ezra was convinced he was going to be whisked off to a doctor and spend the day being examined. He knew the medic was still concerned for his health, and supposed he should be grateful. But...
It was bad enough when it was Nathan doing so, let alone some strange doctor he didn't know.
"Good." Nathan grinned just a bit, paying no attention to Ezra's pouting, "It's only going to be for a couple of hours, but you're going into the office today." Ezra perked up immediately, having to tamp down the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet. That was certainly far better than the doctor, though his lack of self control-control that he had been working hard to build since he was younger than his physical age now-was exceedingly aggravating.
"Is there a job Ah'm needed for?"
"Uh, not exactly. You weren't ever officially debriefed, so Travis wants us to take care of that, and I think he has identity documents for you."
"Oh." That hadn't been what Ezra was longing to hear, but he suppose it wasn't bad news either. In fact, considering that once he was debriefed Travis would give him a certain amount of vacation time, and once it was over Mister Larabee would no longer have an excuse to keep him from the office, it was in fact possibly quite a good thing. "Do you happen to know what moniker Ah shall be using?"
"No, I don't. I do know that part of the cover story is going to be that you're related to," Nathan paused, not quite sure how to put it and Ezra broke in while he was looking for words.
"Mahself?" Ezra's drawl deepened with his sardonic tone, "It's like a masturbation and inbreeding joke all in one, which Ah suppose is appropriate considahing mah home state." The black man rolled his eyes to the heavens, muttering something about teenagers that Ezra didn't quite catch. "Am Ah to be mah own brothah?"
"I don't know anything for certain yet, but I'd imagine either that or a cousin. A cousin might be more likely. Harder for anyone to prove wrong."
"And it would give Mothah less of a claim on me." Ezra regretted the words before Nathan's eyes zeroed in on him, and knew when they did, that, just as he feared, he had revealed too much.
"Your mother doesn't have any kind of claim on you at all. Hopefully we can get this figured out before she decides to come for a visit, but even if we don't you don't have to worry about her." Nathan looked sure, confident and Ezra wanted to believe him, but well he knew that out of all the men Chris and Nathan were the two who truly did not like or trust the woman(well, Josiah didn't trust her, but it didn't keep the man from admiring her in his own, slightly disturbing to think about, way), unlike Chris he didn't think Nathan had ever realized just what his mother was capable of.
Sometimes, it bothered him that they didn't like her-she was his mother, and in her own way, a remarkable woman. She did love him and he loved her. Mother had killed a man once, to keep him safe. Even Ezra wasn't supposed to know about that.
He didn't trust her either. With his life, yes, but not with his well being.
"Hey, I mean it. Your momma isn't gonna take you anywhere." Nathan raised an eyebrow at him, and Ezra wasn't sure why, his lips twisting down into a frown as he waited for him to go on, "Her son Ezra is 28. If she tries to say that's you, no matter how true it is, it's going to look to the court systems like she's mentally unstable." Ezra rolled his eyes at the man's naivety, voice a tinge scornful as he responded.
"Of course she isn't going to concoct as foolish a plan as that, the woman has been a successful con artist for yeahs. Mothah would nevah sully her reputation in such a way, you should know bettah, Mistah Jackson."
Nathan rocked back and forth on his feet a bit, looking a mix between amused, annoyed, and concerned, an expression Ezra was not unfamiliar with, he had to admit. "Before you go worrying too much about this, why don't you tell me what you think she's going to do?"
If Ezra hadn't spent an inordinate amount of time the night before thinking about just this while staring at his bedroom ceiling he wouldn't have been able to answer so effortlessly, but as it was the words slipped right off his tongue. "If she decides she wants me with her, one possibility is that Mothah will claim that whatevah identity Ah am given is actually her child, and sue for a DNA test to determine parentage. Ah will undoubtedly show as her child. There are othah things she could attempt as well. If she does not succeed initially she will keep trying until she does, as long as she deems it beneficial to herself in some way." Nathan looked surprised for just a second, but then that confident expression came back, Ezra wondering how much was real, and how much was there just to reassure him.
"First off, she'd have to prove she had grounds to demand the DNA test in the first place or it'll just be dismissed by whatever judge it comes in front of. If she does somehow do that, then we'll do what we have to do to prove she's not fit to take care of you. Shouldn't be too hard since she's, plain and simple, not." Ezra almost wanted to be offended for his mother here, but the fact was, he agreed. Nathan took a step forward, settling a large hand on Ezra's shoulder, letting it rest there as he spoke, "It doesn't matter how hard she tries or what she does, we're not going to let her take you anywhere. Not ever." Ezra nodded his head up and down, carefully swallowing the lump in his throat, Nathan squeezing his shoulder once before letting him go. "Come on, we should get going-"
"Nathan! Ezra! Move you're asses or we're gonna be late!"
"Before that occurred?" Ezra smirked, as Nathan sighed.
"Yes, exactly. He's already in a mood, Mister 'go out to the horse barn at five in the morning without telling anybody.' You can't be doing things like that, scared the hell out of both of us."
Not allowing the embarrassment to play over his face at that remembered incident, or the stinging swat that had accompanied it, Ezra put on a voice that imitated JD at his most guileless, "Ah do hope that's not going to be mah new surname, Ah don't believe it could fit properly on identification." Nathan gave a reluctant sounding chuckle and started to shepherd him out of the room.
"Move it, smart ass."
"Ah still say it would have been ruder to wake one of you at such an early hour." Ezra could not say that he had imagined Mr. Larabee would be overly pleased with him if he were caught when he'd made his way out to the horse barn and Chaucer's stall, but he had been taken aback by how severely displeased he had been.
Conceivably, his freezing and not answering the man when Ezra had heard his alarmed bellowing may have had something to do with that.
"Yeah, well, Chris disagrees with you. Me, I think your butt could have waited an hour or two." Finding himself eager even just to see the office, Ezra hurried through the den and kitchen, snagging a red apple out of the fruit bowl on his way and sticking it in his pocket. He wondered again what Nathan and him were doing, or if perhaps, he'd leave it up to Ezra. When the credits on The Goonies were rolling the medic had asked if he could crash there, so as to avoid Josiah's back-breakingly lumpy couch. After everyone else had left and Chris had told them to go to bed, Nathan had informed Chris he called 'dibs' on Ezra tomorrow, JD and Buck could wait, since they'd never actually decided which of them it was to be. Chris had chuckled quietly and called Nathan clever, and it had taken a moment but Ezra had realized that the others had been vying for who got to spend the day with him first. Of course, that also meant they got the day off, but for Nathan, who hated to get behind on paperwork, that wasn't necessarily a bonus.
It was...reassuring, to know that, that he wasn't just an obligation. Nathan had even said, not entirely joking, that he'd have to check his desk for pranks since he'd jumped the line.
Chris was waiting for them at the edge of the living room, almost in the entry way, looking impatient, though he relaxed a little when he saw them.
"There you two are. We don't get on the road soon we'll hit traffic. Ezra, you have everything you need?" Refraining from rolling his eyes with an extreme amount of effort, Ezra nodded. Mr. Larabee had started to inform him his eyes would get stuck that way when he did, which Ezra would not have believed when he was an actual six year old, let alone a...sixteen year old with twelve years additional experience was possibly the most apt descriptor. Either way, it was becoming tiresome to hear.
"Yes sah."
"I don't see a jacket." This time he couldn't help the eye roll, and sure enough, "I'm going to glue your eyes like that, you keep rolling them at me." Well, that was a unique threat at least, and slightly more plausible than them sticking in place on their own.
"It's springtime, and the sun is out. Ah doubt Ah'll require one." He did his best to sound as reasonable and non-argumentative as possible, but Chris wasn't impressed.
"Lucky for you, I watched the weather. It's supposed to rain this afternoon. Jacket, now." Mr. Larabee pointed down the hallway, clearly expecting Ezra to retrieve his jacket without any more protests, and for that as much as anything else, Ezra turned to Nathan instead.
"Are we going to be out of doors during our activities this afternoon Nathan?" Nathan shook his head firmly and held up his hands in front of him, palms out.
"Oh no, don't go dragging me into this, you want to challenge Chris on something as silly as a jacket, you can do that on your own." Scowling slightly, because Nathan was no help at all and Chris was still pointing down the hallway inexorably, (though, since the vein in his temple wasn't throbbing yet Ezra knew he wasn't really that irritated) Ezra rolled his eyes one more time for good measure, though as it as at the floor Mr. Larabee didn't notice and meandered deliberately slowly down the hall, making what should have been a walk that took only a handful of seconds stretch to a good thirty.
Still, he supposed if it were to rain, he'd be grateful for the jacket then.
That revelation did not keep him from making a meal out of picking between the two jackets available to him, a cobalt blue zip-up sweatshirt type jacket, that was most appropriate for the changing spring weather, or a heavier brown jacket, too warm, but that matched perfectly with the red polo and dark brown trousers he'd chosen for the day. Deciding that he wouldn't have to actually wear it until it started to rain, and could take it off when indoors even if it was raining, Ezra selected the sweatshirt, tucking it under his arm as he left his room, returning to the living room at a more normal pace. Chris jerked his head towards the front door once Ezra was back in his sight, turning and heading out to the truck without another word, and with a tightening in his gut, because he'd clearly miscalculated and the man was actually angry at him, not just peeved, he trudged after his boss.
It wasn't until he'd slid into the middle of the truck's cab, Nathan climbing in behind him, that Chris spoke again, "Ezra, you can pick the radio station."
Chris never let anybody but him select music when he was driving. A bet that Ezra, allowedly, had had much to do with creating, over who had control over the radio and CD player on a road trip had wound up with JD controlling it on the way to their destination-pop-punk and alternative-and Josiah controlling it on their way back-folk music, and nothing else-had led to Chris maintaining a dictator like command over the music in any vehicle he was piloting ever since.
So either he hadn't been upset with Ezra in the first place, or he no longer was, and the tension that had been building in him started to leak away. Whichever it was, Ezra seized the rare opportunity and, ignoring the presets, as everyone was either country or hard rock, leaned forward to tune it to-hmm, the local jazz channel perhaps, or one of those stations that played a little bit of everything? Yes, that sounded like a good idea, something for everybody. Turning it up a little as a seventies sounding rock song he was unfamiliar with came on, Ezra felt rather satisfied when a minute into the song Nathan's foot was tapping and Mr. Larabee was looking more relaxed than he had been.
The rest of the ride went normally, nobody talking much except for when Chris would snarl and curse under his breath at the other drivers on the road, who according to Chris must have bribed their way to a license. The closer to the building they got the more Ezra found his anticipation warring with nerves. As much as he wanted to return, Ezra now found himself worried about facing Mr. Travis like this, his fingers running over his favorite pack of cards in his pocket, the worn smooth cardboard edges soothing him just a little. They pulled into the parking lot at a time Ezra would have called early, but judging from the way both Chris and Nathan jumped out, urging him to hurry, they were late for their meeting with the AD.
At least that's what he thought until he realized that they were walking him in the way they would walk in a potential target, Nathan a step behind and his eyes scanning around for danger, Chris on point, and making sure to stay close enough to Ezra to be able to grab him. Not wanting to delay them if his observations were correct he said nothing until they were in the elevator and it was moving. "Forgive me if Ah am wrong, but it seemed to me that our entrance into the building was done in a rather paranoid manner. Is something the matter?" Nathan looked at Chris and Chris rubbed at the bridge of his nose and Ezra took in a shaky breath, for once wishing that his assumption had been incorrect.
"Ezra...", Chris reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, making sure to meet Ezra's eyes with his, and he knew it was meant to be comforting, but instead his whole body tensed, knowing he needed to hear what Chris was going to say, but not sure he wanted to. "Your apartment was broken into late last night, around two in the morning." Ezra's mouth felt dry and he squeezed his hands into fists. It was no secret to anyone who knew him that Ezra Standish was a very private person, only the team, and his mother when she came to visit had been in his apartment, and even that was a fairly rare event. He'd been on the team almost a year before he'd allowed those he now considered his family inside. The idea that other people had been in his home, picking through his personal belongings... "Nothing was taken, but some evidence left behind made us think it was someone from Blare Technologies, or rather the splinter group of their scientists you were undercover with."
"Evidence? Chris, they left a message." Chris jerked his head up to glare at Nathan, who glared back, though his voice was steady and sure, "I told him this morning that you would tell him anything he really needed to know. You gonna make a liar out of me already?"
"Watch it, Nathan." Chris was still glaring, but Ezra thought he was also a little surprised at defiance from Nathan of all people, "I was going to tell him. I was just hoping to wait 'til we got to the conference room."
"Tell me what, Mistah Larabee?" Chris squeezed his shoulder and sighed, and now Ezra was trying not to panic. "Chris, what?"
"It wasn't a threat, at least not directly, and either way we're gonna keep you safe. They spray painted on your kitchen wall, wrote, "Enjoy your second chance, and," Chris paused, clearly reluctant to go on, but did anyway, "recommend us to your friends. We'll be watching, The Toxic Sunshine Crew." Ezra could feel his face screwing up in confusion, not sure he could possibly have heard right.
"Excuse me, did you just say 'The Toxic Sunshine Crew'?" Chris nodded and opened his mouth, but Ezra cut him off, unable to help it, "That is the most ludicrous, outlandish-it sounds like the name of one of those bands Mr. Dunne takes Miss Wells to see! Or the villains in a children's show about saving the environment!"
"You know," Nathan said, voice apologetic,"I'm pretty sure I've heard JD talk about a band called Toxic Sunshine." Ezra gaped at him, and then groaned.
"Mah life is some sort of pantomime being played out for the God Josiah is always carrying on about, isn't it?"
"No," Chris said firmly, "It is not. And stupid name or not, we're taking them seriously. Recommend us to your friends, could be a threat to de-age more of the team, and I just plain don't like that bit about them watching you." Ezra did not care overly much for the idea himself. He'd tried not to reflect on the time period between when he'd been compromised and when the team had gotten him out, and was grateful for the fact that he'd been too drugged up to remember most of it. They'd been talking to him in sing-song voices, cooing at him as they shocked him and stuck needles in his skin, telling him that he'd nearly ruined everything, but instead he would serve as an example. His...transformation itself he could not recollect at all, and from what Nathan had said that was a good thing, the way the medic had all but sagged in relief when he told him so verifying that to an almost frightening degree. "Until we neutralize these bastards you're going to have at least one member of the team with you at all times."
Ezra frowned at that, not so much because he hated the idea, but because he didn't and he should have. Instead when Chris had said that the sick feeling in his mid-section had begun to die down. "Hey, I mean it, we're going to keep you safe." He squeezed his shoulder again and took a step closer, and Ezra knew that even if he were actually sixteen, he would really be too old for that sort of cosseting, but Chris didn't seem to mind, none of the others seemed to mind, and took a small step of his own towards his team leader. Chris moved the hand from his shoulder to his nape instead and used it to pull Ezra against his side, in a one armed, but tight, hug, "I promise." The sick feeling eased the rest of the way away. He was still...wary, but it was manageable. The sort of fear that one could use, could rule over, rather than have it rule over you. The elevator opened then and Ezra should have realized that they had been on the elevator too long to be going to their floor, but it didn't keep his face from flushing as the A.D got a eyeful of his top undercover agent clinging to his boss like a infant. He pulled away from Chris immediately, though Mr. Travis's friendly smile, the smile that meant Ezra had done his job correctly, and hadn't nearly killed himself or drained the budget this time, didn't look any different than usual(though his eyes did rake up and down Ezra quickly, and whether the A.D. was reassuring himself that his agent was in one piece, or assuring that it was his agent, he couldn't determine).
"Hello boys, we have the floor to ourselves this morning. There are pastries in the conference room, should still be warm if we hurry." That was an unexpected addition to the usual meeting agenda. Well, a Standish did not turn down a quality invitation and as Travis turned and walked away, motioning for them to follow, he wasn't as hesitant as he had been before. The private conference room on the highest floor of the building, the one used most often for inter-agency meetings between bigwigs, was, not lush, by any stretch of the word, but was far nicer than any other conference room in the building, with big windows that actually opened and tan-colored horizontal blinds, rather than the tacky white vertical blinds that broke constantly that were in the rest of the building's rooms. The floor was the same gray carpet, but without the constant foot traffic it still retained some of its original plush. The rectangular table was real wood, not veneer, and polished to a high shine. Most notably, the chairs were remarkably comfortable, an entirely different breed from what Buck called 'office depot garbage bin specials' in the regular conference rooms.
Sinking into one of the chairs that was close to a large and rather delicious smelling box of pastries, a small stack of paper plates and napkins next to it, Ezra started to reach out to open the box, but then decided against it, pulling his hand down into his lap. Time with the rest of the seven had certainly dulled some of his table manners, but he hadn't forgotten them. Chris, next to him, saw his aborted movement and nodded slightly, approving, and Ezra was torn between wanting to open the box now simply because and being ridiculously pleased, at the tiny, almost invisible, bit of praise. Determining that either reaction was equally nonsensical, Ezra waited with not quite as much patience as he feigned for Mr. Travis to sit down and pull out a chocolate confection of some sort for himself, pushing the box his direction when he was down and telling Ezra, "Help yourself, Agent Standish". It was just a title, but hearing it felt absurdly...right, and the quick nod of thanks he directed at the man was more for that than anything. After a swift, but careful, perusal of the various pastries, Ezra selected a particularly gooey concoction for himself, with apple bits sticking out of it and slices of toasted pecan on top. It was still a bit warm, as Mr. Travis had said, and the first bite revealed a strong hint of caramel, the pastry itself thick, buttery, and soft.
Looking to see whether the A.D was eating his all at once, or planning to pick at it throughout the meeting, Ezra hid a smile when he saw the older man frowning in consternation at his pastry as he wiped a small blob of cream off his tie. "That," he said, when he noticed Ezra watching him, "is why I don't often eat the filled ones. Should have known better. Now," he straightened in his chair, setting his pastry down, Ezra in the middle of taking another bite, hurried to finish it and do the same, "I would imagine we both have some questions for the other, but there are a few things I'd like to reassure you on first. However long it takes us to figure this out, you are an ATF agent. Your place here is safe. As far as the majority of this organization is concerned, once we stretch out the usual vacation time, you're going to be on a prolonged medical leave. Your salary will continue to be deposited for the next six months, your insurance covers that, and I'll see what I can do after that. Hopefully the ATF will have you back in our ranks sooner rather than later, but either way that's not something you have to worry about."
"Thank you, sah." There would certainly be an eventual time limit-if he were stuck like this for a year or two or longer?-but simply knowing Travis had been inclined to arrange a cover for him showed that the man was in his corner. What he was supposed to do about rent and other bills for his apartment had been a fresh concern that morning, finally not beaten out by other more pressing matters. He would eventually, if this were not reversible, have to decide whether to retain his apartment or allow the lease to lapse, but Travis had just secured it so he wouldn't have to dip into his savings while he made that decision. "Ah appreciate the trouble you went to."
Of course, his words also made it obvious that Ezra would not be returning to work once his vacation was up, at least not in any official capacity, and judging from the way neither Chris or Nathan were acting surprised, this was not a revelation. Yet, every time he'd mentioned going back to work-well, actually now that he thought about it properly, they hadn't been saying he would be, had they? They'd been giving him throw-away answers instead. Meaningless assurances, without every actually promising anything. Or really, Mr. Larabee had, and Mr. Sanchez once, it was not fair to malign Nathan merely because he was in the room. Why? Simply to appease him? To make him easier to deal with?
The worst part was that he hadn't seen through it. He, Ezra Standish, had been...good Lord, he had been conned. By Mr. Larabee.
If he hadn't been so offended he might have been impressed. Mr. Larabee was quite adept at fooling members of the criminal underworld, yet Ezra had not expected the man to be able to fool him.
It...stung. Both that he had been able to mislead him, and that he'd been willing to.
Forcing himself to focus on the meeting at hand, he tuned back in in time to hear Mr. Travis say, "and, after hearing about the identity you established for yourself, and introduced to a number of citizens," the A.D paused here, just long enough to raise an eyebrow, and Ezra cringed internally as he realized Mr. Travis knew about his misadventure, "I took the liberty of establishing it officially. You are now Ezekiel James Standish, younger half-brother to Agent Ezra Standish. As he often has to be gone, due to the nature of his work, partial custody of young Ezekiel, or, you, was granted to Agent Christopher Larabee. There is a skeleton history in here along with some of your documentation, though I will leave you to fill in most of the details." A thin folder was pushed across to Ezra, who despite his irritation at Chris, gained a spark of mischief in his eyes at hearing he got to author his own history. Travis, discerning it handily, kept his hand on the folder when Ezra reached for it, making sure to look him in the eye as he said plainly, "Nothing too bizarre, Standish."
Affecting a look of earnest innocence, Ezra said, "Ah assure you Mistah Travis, Ah have every intention of treating this with the utmost seriousness, most especially encompassing the details of mah covah story."
"Mmm." Judging by the way the A.D. was peering at him over his reading glasses he was not entirely confident in this. Well, Ezra had always considered him to be a man of formidable intelligence. He released the folder, and then took similar looking folders off the small stack in front of him and passed one each to Chris and Nathan. Inspecting his, Ezra noticed quickly that it was missing the one thing he definitely expected to find-an ID. Frowning he sorted through it again-a sheet listing pertinent information on his new identity, a medical insurance card for an ATF dependent, a high school diploma and accompanying documentation-thank the good Lord and Mr. Travis for that, it hadn't even occurred to him that he might have to worry about attending school-, but no ID.
"Ezra." Somewhat unwilling Ezra slowly dragged his eyes over to Chris, still a little resentful that Chris hadn't simply told him he would not be returning to work.
They would soon realize that the job would be increasingly burdensome a member short, and then-cutting that thought short, Ezra told himself that that would not be the outcome. He would find a way to prove himself still a credit to the team, could perhaps fulfill some of the roles of his employment from the security of the ranch. Surely, there could be no objection to that.
"Yes, Mistah Larabee?" Chris maneuvered his folder so that Ezra could see the inside-see, to his puzzlement that his ID was contained inside. In fact, there were two-ah.
Ostensibly, it was up to Mr. Larabee whether or not Ezra was permitted to have a regular identification card or a driver's license and that rankled. A small voice in his head that sounded disconcertingly like Mr. Sanchez informed him that he reaped what he sowed and he had to work at keeping a grimace off of his face. "We'll talk about what you have to do to earn the license tonight. For now you can use this one." Chris pushed the ordinary license towards Ezra, raising an eyebrow when he made no move to take it, instead mulishly setting his jaw. "Ezra..."
It was unfair. Chris had already reprimanded him for his escapade and said it was over and done with. "That is unfair. You have already," He darted a quick look at the A.D., who was pretending to look over some of the papers in front of him, but clearly listening to every word they were saying, and lowered his voice to a whisper for the rest of the sentence, "chastised me. You promised that Ah would no longah be in disgrace when-", Chris interrupted here, though Ezra kept talking over him, getting louder as he did so.
"You were in trouble, not disgraced." "it was ovah, but Ah clearly am."
He finished succinctly, and firmly, with, "Making you, sah, a liar.", and a glower that should have burned a hole right through Mr. Larabee. It was only after, as he sat in a room so silent that you could have heard a pin drop, that he truly realized just what he had said, and to whom he had said it. Still, even as dread ran though him, settling deep in the pit of his stomach, he refused to drop his chin, or show any sign that he regretted his words. Because, he did not.
Perhaps he regretted saying them out loud when the man was sitting right next to him, but not enough to take it back, even as Chris's narrowed-eye glare pinned him where he sat, the man's jaw tightening as the vein in his temple started to throb at a frankly alarming tempo. "...What did you say to me?"
This was his one opportunity to apologize, plead temporary insanity, and get away with his hide intact, and Ezra knew it. Yet, his heart racing, feeling almost unable to stop himself, Ezra raised his head, and said, voice scornful, "You, sah, are a liar."
