Notes: Hey look, Desmond Sycamore is in this chapter.
Everyone in the room was silent, save for the continued barking from Ringo. Other than Umid, none of them had seen Desmond outside of the portrait in the hallway. Some of them hadn't even seen that, judging from the confusion on Grafton's face. It was as if a stranger had wandered into the house. When in actual fact the house belonged to the stranger.
The tension was broken by Margaret, who jolted herself awake with a loud snore, looked wildly around at everyone else and then joined them in staring at Professor Sycamore.
"...Whozzat then...?" she murmured, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"I am Desmond Sycamore, professor of archaeology and owner of this house," he explained, in a low and threatening tone.
"Oh. That's nice. You didn't bring any more grub then, did you?" Margaret checked, hopefully. It seemed that Desmond's displeasure at the situation was lost on her.
"Granny, please...!" Becky hissed, placing a hand on Margaret's shoulder. Then she turned back to look at Desmond and said, "But I thought this was Umid's house now?"
Desmond's eyes flickered onto Umid and stayed there as he spoke; "I gave Umid this unused dwelling out of the goodness of my heart to help him get a foot in the door for his life in London. Never for a moment did I expect to find any of this upon my return." He gestured towards the now much smaller living room and all of the people it contained.
From the look of fear on Umid's face, he wasn't yet ready to reply. Fortunately Crow, the master of excuses, was already a step ahead of him.
"Well, if ya wanted to 'elp Umid get a start in London then that's wot 'e's done," Crow insisted, "This might not look like it, but Umid's openin' a business 'ere and this little get-togethah was to celebrate us bein' ready to start it up."
When Crow spoke, Desmond regarded him thoughtfully. As if he was trying to remember where he'd seen him before. Not that he would have seen him anywhere, since no one like Desmond had ever been to Misthallery. About the best Badger could imagine was that maybe since this guy was an archaeologist, that he might be know Professor Layton and the Black Ravens had come up in conversation. But Mr. Layton had promised not to talk about them...
"I can't deal with this right now," Desmond sighed. He reached a hand up to rub his temple; "I'm going to retire to my room for the night. We can discuss this more in the morning. Umid, I assume that my bedroom has at least been left intact?"
"Y-yes," answered Umid, having finally found his voice, "We haven't touched the upstairs save for the rooms that we've been staying in. But I left yours as it was."
"Good. I'm glad to hear that," Desmond replied, "Now if it's all the same with you, could you see out anyone who's not squatting here? I've had a long day's travelling and I could do with some quiet."
"Ya can't just kick out all our friends!" argued Crow.
"It's all right, we'll go," Becky cut in, "Wouldn't want to make things harder for Umid."
Crow scowled, clearly not happy about any of this. But then he turned to look at Umid and saw how nervous he was. No matter how stubborn Crow might have been, there was no way he was going to put a friend at risk over this. Especially not when it was so easily avoidable.
"...Well, I 'ope all o' ya 'ad a good night for as long as it lasted," Crow mumbled, admitting defeat, "Maybe we'll see ya again when we've got everythin' ready to go with... with our plans. Thanks for comin', everyone. Badge', could ya show 'em out?"
"R-reet away..." whispered Badger.
He got to his feet, not realising how shaky they were until he had to stand. Then he motioned for the others and walked nervously past Desmond, avoiding making eye-contact with him as best he could. Everyone followed him at different speeds, with Roddy's family coming first (Ringo continuing to bark at Desmond as Hardy held him back) and Becky's lot leaving at a slower pace, since they needed to help Margaret get to her feet. Only Catanova stayed, because no one told a cat what to do. He sat on Scraps's lap and regarded the professor with the same cautious curiosity as Scraps himself was.
It didn't take Badger long to get to the front door and let everyone out. The brisk evening air was refreshing and he almost wished that he could be going with them instead of staying here to deal with this unknown factor.
"Thanks for the good night out!" Margaret called, as she, Grafton and Max headed down the path. It was probably for the best that she didn't seem to see there was a problem, as it wouldn't do to worry her.
Becky lingered for a moment and said, "If you need anything, if anything goes wrong with that guy, just let me know."
"We will, thanks," replied Badger, not entirely sure that he would. The hotel staff had already done so much for the Black Ravens, so he didn't want to put them in any further trouble. But then again, if Crow was serious about bringing Max and Becky into the Black Ravens then maybe they would have to know about whatever was going on with Desmond. That wasn't Badger's place to decide though.
"Hurry up, Roderick, it's nippy out here," chimed Roddy's mother, since Roddy had also stayed by the door.
"You and dad go on ahead," Roddy called, "Might do the dogs good to get a bit of a walk, yeah? I'm just gonna talk to Badger and then I'll catch up."
That seemed good enough for Roddy's parents. They joined the others in walking away, seeming to chat peacefully with Margaret and Grafton as they did. It took a few moments for all of them to disappear out of sight. Badger could tell that Roddy was waiting for them to go before he spoke again.
"What a pain..." Roddy grumbled, once he was sure they'd all gone, "I wanted to say that I'd stay the night, but I doubt that'd help."
"Any ideas what that Sycamore felleh will do?" Badger asked. He didn't want to get too hopefully about the answer, but Roddy did have worldly wisdom in that grumpy head of his.
"Can't say for sure, but I could take a guess," Roddy answered, "He'll want to talk to Umid tomorrow and Crow will want to be there. For once that's actually a good thing, because if there is something Crow's good at, it's bargaining. I'm not sure what sort of history Umid has with Sycamore, but it's clear that he won't stand up to him. He'll need Crow for that if he wants to talk Sycamore into letting us hold the auctions here. But at the same time, as always, you'll need to watch Crow to make sure he doesn't go too far."
Badger nodded. He'd kind of been expecting Roddy to say that.
"I'll do what I can," he promised.
"I know you will. And keep an eye on Scraps as well," warned Roddy, "I can already tell that he doesn't trust Sycamore at all and you know what he can be like."
"Yeah, I do," assured Badger, "Though now that yer mention it, eveh since we got 'ere Scraps 'as been on edge about that. When Umid took those papers away from the basement 'e wasn't too pleased."
Roddy shrugged; "If Scraps is going to look into something then there's not much we can do to stop him. Let's just hope he tells anything he finds out to us before he goes running his mouth off to the professor. But anyway, I should let you get to whatever little sleep you might manage. Night, Badger. Shame it wasn't a good one."
"Y-yeah, see yer soon, Roddeh..." Badger mumbled.
He weakly waved him off, before closing the door and going back to the living room. Now the only ones left there were Crow, Scraps and Catanova.
"That miserable man went to bed and Umid's gone to his own room as well," Scraps informed, "We didn't get a chance to talk to him."
"Umid wasn't up to talkin'," Crow insisted, "Besides, there'll be plenty o' time for that tomorrah. So we should get some rest as well, okay?"
"Sounds good t' me," agreed Badger.
The three of them got to their feet, with Scraps picking up Catanova to put him out for the night. The large moggy was almost too much for Scraps to carry, but he'd done this enough times now to be use to it. Out of all of them, Scraps was the only one hardened enough to put him out, as the others would all feel sorry for Catanova too much and let him stay the night if it was down to them.
Once that was out of the way, the three of them headed upstairs to bed. There was no noise from either Umid's room or the one that they assumed Desmond had gone into, but that was probably for the best. As Crow said, there'd be much more talking tomorrow...
Badger was the first one up, with Umid not being far behind. The two of them sat together in the living room but didn't say a word. Badger wasn't good at talking to Umid at the best of times, let alone now. So he was relieved that it wasn't long before Crow and Scraps to joined them. After that it was just a case of waiting for Desmond.
It took the professor about half an hour more to come downstairs and while Badger hadn't been sure what to expect, he man who joined them certainly wasn't it. By contrast to his cold demeanour last night, this morning Desmond greeted them all with a pleasant smile. He looked so approachable now, nothing like he had been yesterday. It was confusing, to say the least.
"Looks like he's had time to compose himself..." Scraps muttered, under his breath.
"Good morning, all of you," Desmond greeted, as he took a seat in one of the vacant chairs, "I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting, but I'm glad that you all understand there is much to discuss."
"Last night was not what I would have wanted you to see, had I known you were arriving," Umid started, "We have made a lot of changes to the house, yes, but-"
"Umid, you haven't yet introduced your friends," reminded Desmond. He sounded nice enough when he said it, but Badger could still detect a hint of the ice from yesterday and he assumed that the others could as well.
"Y-yes, you are right," Umid stammered, "These three are my friends and soon to be... business-partners, if you will let us carry on here. This is Badger, Scraps and Crow. They come from a town called Misthallery. Crow is the leader of them."
"I figured he might be," said Desmond, his eyes settling on Crow.
"What's that suppose to-"
But Crow shook his head before Scraps could finish his threat. It was enough to shut Scraps up. As infuriating as Desmond was shaping up to be, they now needed his approval to carry on with the work that they'd already put so much time and money into getting ready for. It would not do to offend him more than they already had. Crow would be best for talking with him, at least for the moment.
"Yeah, so with me bein' the leadah ya undahstand why I'll be the one with a lot to say to ya, right Mr. Sycamore?" checked Crow.
"I understand, yes," Desmond confirmed, "And I can only assume that you've enlisted Umid into your... group. What with his willingness to let you do whatever it is you want to do here."
"Umid is one o' us," Crow answered, "But I wanna let ya know now that we ain't up to anythin' sinistah. I wouldn't drag Umid into somethin' like that."
"Then tell me what it is that you do," requested Sycamore, "Enlighten me."
It was fortunate that Crow was use to dealing with even the most difficult customers from the auctions. So Desmond's demands didn't at all faze him. He kept as calm as the professor was himself when he gave his reply.
"It might be 'ard to believe, given 'ow young we all are, but back in Mist'allery we use to 'old auctions for antiques an' works o' art," Crow told him, "In fact, we still do. There's a branch, I guess ya would call it, o' us still in Mist'allery doin' very well there. But there's only so much ya can do in one little town an' we wanted to expand. So some o' us came to London with the 'opes o' settin' up 'ere."
"That's a bold plan. London is a very big place and I can tell you now that you're not the only people dealing in such matters here. You will have a wealth of competition from much more experienced sources," Desmond retorted.
Suddenly it seemed more like they were pitching an idea for approval than explaining their intentions. But perhaps that was exactly what it was they were doing. Either way, Crow didn't back down.
"I like to think we're bringin' somethin' new to the table. Somethin' that London 'asn't seen before," he continued, ignoring Desmond's snort to that, "An' even if we are takin' a massive risk, we're all determined an' willin' to go for it. Umid undahstands this, which is why 'e's joined us an' let us use the 'ouse that ya gave 'im."
"Yes, a bit more explanation about that part in particular is required," requested Desmond, "It would be hard for me to ignore the changes that you've made here, even without a proper look around. The entrance and hallways are much wider now, seemingly with a focus on getting towards the basement. I'd be willing to bet that you've made changes down there as well."
"We 'ave," Crow confirmed, "We needed somewhere to 'old the auctions an' the basement 'ad the kinda atmosphere we go for."
"It shall be interesting to see the sort of work you've done then. In all honesty, I'd forgotten this house even had a basement to start with," said Desmond.
"You did? Because we found a lot of stuff in it," Scraps injected.
"What sort of... 'stuff'?" hummed Desmond.
"Nothing of much interest," Umid replied, before Scraps could, "Just newspaper articles and some notes of paper. I'd moved them to a cupboard in case they were of any importance to you."
"I doubt that they would be, but I thank you and will take a look all the same," Desmond curtly answered.
"Some of them were pretty recent," Scraps informed, "I saw one newspaper that had the Masked Gentleman of Monte d'Or on the cover. That whole thing only happened some six or seven years ago."
"For someone so young, you have a quite an elderly idea of what would be considered recent," chuckled Desmond, "To many, that amount of time would seem like almost an age. But I see the point that you're getting at. Of course I'd want to take a look at these papers and see if someone had been using the basement without my consent. Save for yourselves, that is."
"An' we'd be thankful if ya could let us keep on usin' it," Crow said, getting the conversation back on track, "I know that we're bein' cheeky to ask, but the impression we got from Umid was that ya were givin' 'im this 'ouse to keep, no strings attached. So we mistakenly believed it was 'is to do with as 'e pleased."
"Then perhaps I should have been clearer about my terms with him. For that, I accept a partial amount of the blame here," Desmond dismissed, "My intentions had been to help him and I hadn't foreseen myself returning to Sharpace Rest for a good while. But plans change and I myself ended up needing a rest. I had wanted to at least check up on Umid and then decide what to do from there, but this situation has left me with a great deal to be worried about."
"There's nothin' to worry about at all," reasoned Crow, "We wanna start up an auction business an' we've made changes to the 'ouse to make room for that. Which is about all there is to it."
"Perhaps. But that doesn't stop me from being wary. I know Umid and I know how trusting he is. Forgive me for not welcoming you with open arms, but I don't know any of you and it is my primary concern that your ideals may hurt Umid. For that reason, I'd at least like to see more of your activities here before I pass my judgement," Desmond stated.
"Right, we've playin' by your rules," agreed Crow, "I wanna prove to ya that we're good an' we only mean the best for Umid. So wotevah terms ya wanna set, we'll do our best to follow 'em."
"That's very reasonable of you," praised Desmond. It felt hollow though, since he knew as well as they did that if they didn't get his approval they'd be out on their ears with a lot of money having gone down the drain; "My only requirement right now is to observe. I will be here and I will let you get on with this for as long as it takes for me to make a decision upon it."
"So you could chuck us out at a moment's notice?" Scraps growled.
"Scraps...!" Badger whined, tugging at his sleeve.
But Desmond was not put out. To the contrary, he turned his attention to Scraps and smiled a very cheerful smile. One that someone would use when addressing a small child who couldn't understand the conversation at hand.
"Yes, I could indeed," he said, "So you'd do best not to give me a reason to."
"We won't," Crow vowed, "An' we thank ya for even givin' us this much o' a chance."
"You are most welcome, young man," replied Desmond, "Now, I'm sure that all of you have a lot to get on with. And so do I. So if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave."
With that, he got to his feet and saw himself out. He didn't even wait for them to say goodbye, but given that it was taking all of Scraps's composure not to jump out of his chair and bite Desmond's legs, that was probably for the best. They all held their breath as Desmond left the room, not knowing where he was going to go. But he headed towards the front door, so whatever plans he had must have been elsewhere in London. When the front door was closed behind him, they all breathed out again in relief.
"That were intense..." Badger sighed, "I 'ad no idea 'ow it were ganna go..."
"Me neithah," Crow confessed, "But I reckon it worked out the best it could for us. Umid, I'm sorry that I did most o' the talkin' for ya."
"No, it's fine. I doubt I would have known what to say," admitted Umid.
"This is terrible though. That guy could throw us out whenever he likes!" Scraps reminded. He'd folded his arms and was stewing angrily where he sat.
"Professor Sycamore is a good man, he would not do that," Umid argued.
"I didn't see a good man this morning," snorted Scraps.
"Then perhaps you need to look harder," stated Umid, stubbornly.
"No, I think you're the one that needs to look harder. Because right now it doesn't seem like you're seeing what's there at all," Scraps countered.
"All right, let's not fight amongst ourselves," Crow cut in, "We're not gonna prove anythin' to anyone by fallin' apart. So I want us all to get to work preparin' for the auctions an' not worry about Professah Sycamore more than we 'afta."
"Yeah, I'm with Crowlo on that," agreed Badger, getting to his feet.
"There's a surprise," shot Scraps, "But whatever. I'm going to get the stock sorted now that we might actually have a need for it."
With that he got up and pushed by the rest of them. No one stopped him from leaving. An irate Scraps was not someone to be messed with.
"I think 'e'll calm down latah," reasoned Crow, "Sorry if 'e upset ya, Umid."
"No, I'm not upset. But he is wrong about Professor Sycamore and you will all see that in time," Umid insisted.
"I do 'ope so," answered Crow. There was no mistaking the doubt in his voice.
With that, there wasn't much else to say. At least not right now. Badger still had so many questions about the situation buzzing through his head and he figured that the others probably did as well, but now wasn't the time where they'd find answers to them. All further talking would do was cement the uncertainty that they each had for their situation and there was no need for that. Working would at least distract them from having to focus on the wrench that Desmond had thrown into the works.
So the three of them headed out of the living room and went to do what they needed to prepare for their first auction in London. If nothing else, at least they wouldn't have to wait much longer for that.
