Thalia had seen her daddy dress up as a lot of things while she was growing up—a priest, a taxi driver, and Hawkeye Pierce every Halloween—but the day she walked into her maths class at university and found him standing up in front of a room full of other kids, she realized he'd never put on the disguise of professor. Even when she was a kid, it was her papa or Alex that helped her with her homework because Daddy had no patience when it came to teaching anything that wasn't dissolving body parts or the fine art of planning murders.
Jim looks to her when she came into the room, nose twitching as he fought the urge to blurt out that she was his daughter and could kill everyone in the room with mostly sass. But he blinked and was back in character, the stern set to his mouth familiar to her after she turned seven and dyed his hair cotton candy pink. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and had chalk on the cuffs from writing equations on the board, hair slightly rumpled from running his fingers through it.
"Miss Moran, I presume," he states, hands clasped behind his back. "Are you always late to your classes?"
"Oh yeah," she nods with a wry smile," I've made it an art form." She makes her way to her seat near the front, setting her bag by her feet after pulling her notebook and pencil out. Daddy gives her an unamused stare that would have normal people running for the hills, but Thalia just smirks at him. She'd get an earful later for the blatant disrespect of a professor, though it'd fall flat once her papa fell off the couch laughing.
"Do you have an excuse this morning, at least?"
"I was doing stuff." The door to the classroom bursts open, Hamish practically stumbling inside with his jacket on upside down. "Oh, look, stuff made it to class quicker than I thought he would." Daddy's left eye twitches and the glare he sends in Hamish's direction was nothing less than I'll personally strangle you with your small intestine. Thalia wasn't worried, she'd just hold one of her daddy's favorite ties over an open flame and wait for the apology to be gritted out.
"Uh," Hamish stutters, clearing his throat as all eyes land on him. "I'll just…." He gestures to the empty seat on Thalia's right. "…Take my seat."
"You do that," Jim says, doing his best not to growl. "Now, if all the interruptions are finished, then we can get back to work." Thalia waits until his back is turned to pull out her phone, sending a quick text to her papa to warn him of the crap storm that might be coming his way in a few hours. "Thalia Moran, you put that phone away before I throw it out a window."
"Yes, sir," she says on instinct, quickly tucking her phone under her leg. James Moriarty was a lot of things, but tolerant of impoliteness isn't one of them. He'd taken her first cellphone and tossed out of a helicopter because she'd ignored him as she was texting, then made her get out and find it once they'd landed to really drive the point home. Ever since then, she didn't take chances like that when he could reach her phone.
"Now, if you'll all remember from last year…." Thalia tuned him out like she did every maths professor she's ever had, content to draw on the margins of her notebook as she waited for class to end. The only reason she ever passed her maths classes was her uncle Max's ability to hack into most computers as a semi-qualified MI5 mole.
Once the class had finished, Thalia and Hamish leave the classroom as quickly as they could before her daddy could call them out on their reason for being late. It's not like he could really complain considering he'd nearly missed an important meeting because Papa bent over conveniently. Thalia shudders at the memory, feeling sick to her stomach.
"Why was your dad teaching the maths class," Hamish whispers as they cross the campus for their English Lit class.
"He said something about recruiting," Thalia shrugs. "He says he's almost ready to retire from all the physical stuff and he'll need a stand-in for meetings and such."
"That's insane, he's going to be caught."
"He doesn't actually exist, so that won't happen." Hamish forces Thalia to stop at that, giving her an incredulous look. "What?"
"Your dad is a sociopathic mass-murderer that enjoys blowing up little old ladies in his free time and he doesn't exist? Surely Uncle Mikey has a huge dossier on him at the very least."
"Maybe a few newspaper clippings from that trial he was put on for stealing the Crown Jewels, but my uncle has erased everything else for Daddy and Papa. Alex and I still have our records since we've not done anything illegal beyond shoplifting, but that could be changed easily if we have to go into hiding again."
"That's fantastic, I'm marrying into a family of lunatics."
"I could say the same thing, darling." Despite the news that had been dropped on him like a ton of bricks, Hamish manages a weak smile as she laces their fingers together. "Relax, it's not like things will change between us. I don't plan on joining my parents' criminal empire and your brother has pretty much picked up the detective role from your parents. You and I get to be our own brand of crazy."
"That's comforting." They begin to walk again, taking their time since they were already late for the second class of the day. It was Thalia's favorite one, a place where she can argue about how fantastic Edgar Allan Poe is without people giving her the side-eye. The professor was a kindly old man that was slowly balding and had a habit of throwing around Shakespeare quotes when he was waxing poetic.
Walking into the spacious classroom, the pair got their second shock of the day. Standing at the front of the class in a pair of slacks and a tee that was a little too tight over his muscular biceps was none other than Sebastian Moran. His blue eyes land on his daughter and future son-in-law, the satisfied smile on his lips telling Thalia she was about to be severely mortified.
"Wanna tell me why you're both late to your papa's class, Honeybear?"
And, as if being taught by both of her fathers' wasn't bad enough, now the entire literature class knew her childhood nickname.