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The buzzer of the door cut through the silence of the flat and tore Quill from his sleep. For a moment he just lay in his bed, wondering if whoever it was would go away if he didn’t react. He had gone straight to bed after coming home last night – or rather that morning – and if it were up to him he would have spent the next four hours in bed as well, only getting up when it would be time for supper. But the buzz of the intercom system didn’t stop after three rings; the sharp sound still rang out across his two-room flat. It was impossible to ignore, so Quill groggily dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the door in the living area.
“Who is it?” he asked after picking up the phone of the intercom system, quietly suppressing a yawn.
“It’s Jameson, Mr Kipps,” the doorman started hesitantly, “there is a young lady coming up for you.”
“A young lady?” Quill repeated. He frowned as he tried to recall if he was expecting anybody. As far as he was aware if he hadn’t missed an appointment with a female agent, in fact, he was sure he was free until he had to lead another team that evening. “Did she give her name?”
“No, she didn’t. I’m sorry, but I don’t know who she is Mr Kipps. She asked for the number of your apartment, but barely listened to the answer. Didn’t let me stop her either, stormed right past me.”
“Let me guess, short brown hair, dark boots, and a skirt?”
“Yes, you do know her then?” the doorman asked. He sounded relieved, the traitor. Knowing Lucy Carlyle didn’t necessarily make her easier to handle.
“I do,” Quill sighed. “Thanks for warning me.”
He put the horn down and tried to decide what was more important; getting dressed properly or making himself a mug of coffee. He glanced down at himself and then made his way to the kitchenette. If he was going to have to deal with Lucy right after waking up, he would need a strong black coffee. If she didn’t want to see him in jogging bottoms and a tank top, she shouldn’t drop by without a warning. Now she would have to deal with it.
Quill had just finished making his coffee and was about to open the fridge to scavenge for something to make a quick breakfast with when there was a loud knock on the door. He suppressed a sigh, grabbed his mug from the counter and went to open it. He had barely opened the door half way when Lucy stepped into his flat. The girl was looking quite frazzled with her cheeks flushed with exertion from walking up the four flights of stairs, her dark hair full of fly-aways, and her eyes underlined by large bags. It seemed like Quill wasn’t the only one who had had a late night.
Lucy’s pent up energy (was it anger? Frustration?) seemed to melt away when she entered his home and took a moment to take in his flat. Her eyebrows rose as her gaze slid over the small eating area near the kitchenette, the sofa in front of the glass coffee table and the small TV on his oak sideboard. Quill silently wondered if he should be offended that she was so surprised about his interior design.
“Hello Lucy,” Quill greeted. His voice snapped her out of her reverie and she turned her attention from the pictures on his wall to him. Her eyes widened as she took in his clothing, and though he couldn’t say whether her cheeks flushed further because they were already red, she was silent for a moment. Then she opened her mouth.
“Aren’t you cold?”
He didn’t have a retort ready immediately, instead he stared at her without a word for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. The girl was a lot of things, but predictable wasn’t one of them.
“I’m assuming you did not barge past my doorman and up to my flat to judge my sleepwear Lucy?” he asked her. Lucy shook her head, both as an answer and to shake away the distractions, and took a deep breath.
“Why didn’t you warn me Quill?” she asked. She tried to put bite into her voice, but apparently entering his living space had thrown her off balance, because the snappish tone wasn’t convincing.
“Warn you about what?” Quill shot back, nursing his coffee.
“Penelope Fittes hiring Lockwood and Co.”
Quill raised his eyebrows as he looked at her. “I didn’t actually know about that Lucy.”
“What do you mean, you didn’t know?” Lucy asked. “Aren’t you all high up the agency ladder?”
The snort he let out in response to that probably sounded harsher than necessary because he saw her wince a little at the sound.
“Lucy, we both know I hold an empty position, at best. I just spend the night in Rotherhithe sewers for heaven’s sake.” His stint as a glorified administration clerk had shown what his superiors thought of him clearly, but Lucy had actually been the first one to vocalise his suspicions about the position being more of a punishment than a reward. “And besides, how is who is hiring Tony any of your business? You left.”
A grimace flashed over her face, but she schooled her expression and met his questioning gaze head on.
“It’s my business, because Lockwood showed up on my doorstep an hour ago,” she explained.
Well damn. He should have known she wouldn’t just show up because he hadn’t told her all the latest gossip of the Fittes Agency, but her words still took him by surprise. He rubbed his face, trying to figure out how to handle the situation.
“Sit down,” he said, gesturing to one of the dining chairs around his kitchen table that doubled as a desk. Lucy shrugged of her coat and hung it around the back of a chair before sitting down, carefully putting aside the binders and loose papers scattered on the wooden surface.
“I was notprepared for him to-“
“Ah!” Quill held up his hand to silence her, and downed the remainder of the coffee. He was going to need caffeine for this.
Quill felt Lucy’s eyes on him as he walked to the counter of his kitchenette and grabbed the coffee pot.
“How much coffee do you drink exactly?” she asked as he refilled his mug.
“I’m not going to justify myself to the girl who lived off of take out food for an entire month,” he shot back without looking back at her. “Do you want some?”
“Hey, I’ve been cooking lately!” Lucy protested. He gave her a flat stare, which made her cheeks flush again. “Most of the time,” she amended sheepishly. “I’d like that cup of coffee.”
They lapsed into silence as Quill went about making a second cup of coffee for Lucy. The familiar actions gave him time to order his thoughts a bit. So Lockwood had shown up at her flat that morning, no wonder she was upset. Knowing the two off them, Lockwood probably had caught her completely off guard, just like she had done to Quill. He yawned as he took the little jug of cream out of the fridge, and silently calculated how much sleep he had had. The answer was roughly four hours. He silently prayed that the coffee would kick in soon.
“Thanks Quill.” Quill nodded in reply and sat down in the chair across from Lucy. He watched in amused silence as she poured nearly all the cream into her mug, turning the black liquid a pale brown before taking a tentative sip. Apparently the taste was to her liking, because a small smile appeared on her face and she took a bigger gulp of coffee.
“Can I tell you what happened now?” Lucy asked, putting her mug back down and wrapping her hands around it.
“Go ahead.”
And so Lucy started her story. Quill listened intently as she explained how she’d been woken up after a rough night by a knock on the door, and had gone to open it to find Lockwood.
He didn’t interrupt as she told her story, instead nodding along and silently processing the things she said. Halfway through he got up to refill their coffee, and while Lucy frowned at him when he did so, she didn’t protest.
“So he manipulated you,” Quill concluded after she was done talking. He leant back in his chair and watched for her reaction. Lucy’s eyes grew wide.
“Manipulated me?” she repeated. Her voice was unsure as if she didn’t comprehend what he had just said. Quill nodded.
“Yes, into agreeing to the job.”
“It wasn’t like that!” She protested, “he didn’t-“
“Okay, maybe manipulation is a bit of a strong word,” Quill amended, “What I’m saying is that if it had been Cubbins, Munro, or god forbid Penelope Fittes herself who had shown up on your doorstep this morning, you’d sent them on their way with a resolute no. No matter how well they’d spun the proposal. You said yes because it was Lockwood who came asking for you.”
“But he…” Lucy’s voice trailed off. Her face had grown a few shades paler, and Quill could almost see the cogs in her head move.
“I’m not saying he has ill intentions Lucy. I’m not even sure he was aware of it.”
“How can you not know you’re manipulating somebody?” Lucy’s voice had risen a little, and she took a deep breath to regain her self-control.
“Lockwood is used to getting what he wants, he has a way of talking, you must know that by now.” Lucy gave a little nod in reply. “His biggest flaws are that he is conceited and rash-“ Lucy opened her mouth to protest again, but he didn’t let her cut him off “-I’m not saying that just because we don’t get along Lucy, it’s simply the truth. And it doesn’t necessarily make him a bad person, but it’s something you need to keep in mind when you’re dealing with him. For some reason, he wants you for this job. Maybe he misses you, maybe Miss Fittes asked for you.”
Lucy’s eyebrows knitted together as she thought his words over. “Is there a point to your little speech, Quill?”
“Yes, the point is that he needs you for this job, so you hold power in this situation as well. You need to make sure he doesn’t just steamroll right over your wishes.”
Lucy stared down at her now empty mug, slowly twirling the teaspoon around while she thought his words over.
“He does tend to do that,” she whispered, as if the admission pained her. The spoon chinked against the ceramic. “Hey Quill?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s the Fittes policy on working with other agencies?”
“What do you mean?”
“Does a representative need to be present?”
And that was how Quill Kipps found himself waiting in front of number 7 The Leas the following day. He stood near the well-kept hedge of the property, fiddling with the key on its leather strap in a weak attempt to distract himself from the looming presence of the haunted house he would enter soon.
When he finally spotted Lockwood and Co (plus Lucy), he crossed his arms and stepped away from the hedge.
“Nice to see you Quill! How’s tricks?” Lockwood called out. As always, the young man’s smile was somewhat exaggerated, and Quill fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“Before you say anything, I didn’t ask to be given this job,” he replied, shooting a glare in George Cubbins’ direction. The lie slipped off his tongue easily, just like the irritated tone he’d told it with. “I dislike the idea just as much as you do, let’s just be clear about that.
They exchanged some more banter and then made their way up to the porch of the house where Lockwood started giving orders to make a small chain circle with a lantern inside it, an outer line of defence. While Holly and George were busy with that, Lucy walked across the freshly cut lawn to look through one of the large windows. As nobody was paying attention to either of them, Quill walked after her.
“The things I do for you…” He sighed when he stood next to her, “I used up the last of my favour with Fittes to get put on this case.”
“Thank you, Quill,” Lucy whispered, not looking up from the window, “I really appreciate this.”
Quill stayed quiet for a moment. “I know you do Lucy. You’re welcome.”