Chapter Text
“Wait,” he said, “So Reynie is a spy after all, and also my best messenger candidate, and a tiny psychic, and fucking tree girl?”
Sticky looked a little pale. “He said the f word,” he almost squeaked.
“You mean fuck, George,” said the small psychic.
“Shut up, you’re ten,” snapped Curtain.
“Tree girl?” said Kate. “Seriously?”
Curtain threw his hands up. “It was a weird encounter, Kate!”
“It was hilarious,” said the small psychic. “You confused the hell out of him. Did you actually give him a fruit-roll-up? I’m just kidding, I know you did, I just want everyone to know you gave him a fruit-roll-up.”
“You gave Dr. Curtain a fruit-roll-up?” said Sticky.
“I think we’re getting off-track,” said Reynie.
“I panicked!” said Kate. And then she tilted her head. “Actually, did you like it?” she turned to Curtain. “I’m honestly curious.”
“It was fine,” said Curtain shortly, “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Reynie’s right.”
“That’s a little hurtful,” said Reynie.
“Oh my god you actually ate the fruit-roll-up?” said Constance. “This is wonderful. Was your tongue blue?”
“Can we please get back on-topic?”
At this exact moment, the elevator doors opened and Mr. Benedict stumbled in.
“Your child spies are infuriating, Nicholas!” Curtain yelled immediately, like he was tattling, more on instinct than anything.
“What?” he said.
“He also thinks we’re weird and irritating,” said Constance helpfully.
“Okay, so some goats walk into a bar,” said Reynie, spreading his hands like he’s presenting something grand.
“What?” said Curtain, and it was, disturbingly, an exact echo of Mr. Benedict’s.
“I gave your brother a fruit-roll-up,” said Kate to Mr. Benedict as Reynie horrifically butchered a joke in the background.
“I… what?”
“I was in a tree,” she added sagely. “Spying.”
This added nothing to Mr. Benedict’s understanding of events.
Curtain, momentarily distracted from Reynie failing to deliver the punchline once more, whirled around to face her. “That’s what you were doing?” he shrieked.
“I can’t believe you didn’t make that connection before,” said Sticky. “I… don’t know what to do with this information.”
“Your brother is stupid,” Constance informed Mr. Benedict.
“I am not.”
“Because they were kids!” Reynie interjected desperately. “The—the goats they couldn’t—because they were kids! And kids can’t—yeah!”
Curtain was so confused and annoyed he was genuinely on the verge of falling asleep just at the strong emotion alone. Mr. Benedict looked like he might be following right behind him.
“Say that again but slower,” said Constance. “And in order, and with literally any comedic timing. Then maybe it’ll work!” she said the last part with obvious fake cheer and an almost demonic fake smile, complete with wide eyes and bared teeth.
“Wait a second, did Curtain say you were psychic?” Sticky said.
“She is psychic, right?” said Curtain.
“Probably,” said Mr. Benedict.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, salad boy,” sneered Constance.
“Salad b—” Mr. Benedict wheezed, and then immediately collapsed.
“Well!” said Curtain. “I’m leaving.”
Reynie, who had knelt to check that Mr. Benedict hadn’t hurt himself, looked up. “Wait, no, my joke!”
“Your what.”
“The—goats, they walk into a bar,” he said. “And they—wait, I’ll. I’ll do another, they’re. the scarecrow, why’s it. Why did the scarecrow. Uh. Uh. Get. Get published?”
“…get published?”
“Like academically, get like a paper published, why did the scarecrow get. WAIT. NO. WHY DID THE SCARECROW GET AN AWARD.”
“An academic award?” said Curtain, apparently deciding to just fucking roll with this, raising an eyebrow. “For a scarecrow?”
“BECAUSE HE WAS OUTSTANDING IN HIS FIELD,” practically screamed Reynie, blurting it out because he was so excited he remembered the punchline in its entirety.
In the background, Sticky buried his face in his hands, and Kate slapped her palm against his forehead. Constance only crossed her arms with a rather unnerving grin.
Curtain stared blankly, not for the first time, visibly processing the joke, and more importantly, the context of this kid actually telling a joke at a time like this.
He then promptly lost his mind.
After basically going into a laughing fit that left Sticky as confused as a man under a tree with a girl in it, he finally wiped away a tear (a tear) and said, “Okay, that was pretty good.”
“What,” whispered Kate, confused and shocked.
“Your brother has a bad sense of humor, too,” Constance whispered to the still completely unconscious Mr. Benedict.
Seeing them all staring at him almost expectedly, he tilted his head. “What? Were you expecting that?” he gestured to Mr. Benedict. “Aw. Unlike my soft brother, I conquered my narcolepsy through sheer force of will.”
“That’s not how narcolepsy works,” whispered Sticky into his hands.
“And I didn’t have the same triggers,” added Curtain, humor dropping from his face.
Mr. Benedict jerked awake. “Hmmgh?”
Curtain rolled his eyes. “Always the late riser,” he said.
“It’s not my fault you get up at like five am, Nathaniel,” said Mr. Benedict, apparently automatically, like even though it had been over three decades they’d had this argument so many times he still remembered every word.
“Nathaniel?” asked Reynie.
“Shut up,” said Curtain.
“Hey, don’t tell him to shut up,” said Sticky.
“That’s very rude,” agreed Kate.
“You know what else is rude?” said Curtain. “Spying on people. Spying on people is rude.”
“So is literally erasing free will,” pointed out Reynie. “Sorry, Dr. Curtain.”
“That’s the endgame? Seriously?” said Mr. Benedict. “How myopic—”
“Oh, here it is,” said Curtain, “Such a goody-two-shoes—”
“Not wanting you to complete world domination via free will erasure isn’t being a goody-two-shoes, Nathaniel, it’s common f—”
He glanced at the kids, steam dying a little. “—sense. It’s common sense.”
“Mr. Benedict nearly said fuck,” said Constance.
“Shut up, you’re ten,” Curtain said again, at the same time as Mr. Benedict said, “Constance, please.”
They both looked at each other (Curtain with his eyes narrowed, Mr. Benedict with his eyes wide) and Constance laughed.
“I wish I had popcorn,” she said.
“Shut up,” said Curtain again.
“Hey, don’t tell her to shut up,” said Mr. Benedict, “That’s my—”
Curtain blinked. Even though Nicholas had cut himself off, the ending to that sentence was pretty obviously not ‘spy’.
“You have a daughter now? Seriously?”
“You have a son,” pointed out Reynie, apparently not fazed by Constance now being Mr. Benedict’s daughter. That tracked.
“Don’t change the subject!”
“You have a what?”
“I’m so confused,” said Sticky.
“I think we all are,” said Kate. “Where’s my dad, anyway?”
“Your what,” said several people at once.
“Milligan,” said Kate, as if that didn’t only make it a thousand times more confusing.
As if on cue, the window was kicked in.
“That opens,” said Curtain. “You didn’t have to—that literally opens.”
Milligan stepped through. He surveyed the scene. He looked on the verge of simply stepping back out.
“Milligan’s your dad?” said Reynie.
Mr. Benedict looked like he might faint, narcolepsy or no. “Oh,” he said, very quietly. As the implications hit, he looked a little deeply devastated. “Oh.”
“We only just figured this out a few minutes ago,” said Kate. “But yeah.”
“Oh, the memories,” said Sticky. “Right, that—oh, that sucks.”
They all turned to Curtain.
“What?” he snapped. “It’s not my fault he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. I lost one of my best chemists, you know.”
“A chemist,” echoed Mr. Benedict.
“Can I punch him?” Kate asked. “I want my fruit-roll-up back.”
“You’re all terrible at this and I hate you,” said Curtain.
“You think we’re terrible at this?” said Constance. “You could have called for security ages ago. I only just now destroyed the intercom.”
She was holding a hammer—hopefully she’d gotten that from Kate’s bucket somehow, but who knows with her—and some smashed technology bits were on the floor.
Curtain closed his eyes. Fuck. He could have done that. Fuck. Fuck.
“We should have used the acid,” sighed Kate.
“Acid?” said Curtain and Mr. Benedict in disturbing unison.
“The drug kind or the melting kind?” asked Milligan, low and thoughtful. “I can make either work.”
“No one’s acid-ing me,” said Curtain.
“Acid-ing,” said Mr. Benedict.
“Shut up,” said Curtain.