Chapter Text
Angus McDonald wakes to the light of the sun shining onto the moon. It pours in through the window, illuminating his bed, his desk, the books scattered throughout the room, and the dust particles sitting still in the air. He lifts his head slowly from where it rests on his arms and he groans as his neck pops. He fell asleep at his desk again last night, book in one hand, pen in the other. The seal of the Bureau on his bracer is etched into the skin of his cheek from where his head laid for the night. He rubs his face with the heel of his palm, trying to wipe the pattern from his skin but he figures the effort is fruitless. The mark will go away sooner or later.
Angus blinks slowly, adjusts his glasses where they sit on his nose, pulls them off, and wipes away the smudges. And he stands and walks over to the bathroom to get ready for the day, brushing his teeth, changing his clothes, and slipping on a pair of shoes. Then he picks a book off his desk and strides out the door to get breakfast, shutting it carefully behind him.
He walks into the cafeteria, nose buried in his book, carefully stepping around things he could trip over. He's been at the BoB long enough to know how to navigate without looking at this point, but when he does look up, nothing he sees is what he expects.
What Angus McDonald expects to see is Bureau employees sitting at tables, chatting idly, enjoying meals, and such.
What he doesn’t expect to see is distressed and crying staff members, curled over in the fetal position, and one, Magnus Burnsides, hero of folk legend, recoverer of many a grand relic, drinking something out of his boot.
Angus quickens his pace.
“Hello, sirs,” he says as he reaches the table where the three reclaimers sit. As soon as he approaches, Merle becomes very suddenly but very intently focused on the face of the table. Taako gives him a nod as soon as he sees him, legs crossed, sipping out of a vase from the Chug 'N Squeeze.
“‘Sup Ango, how’s it kickin', my man?”
“Great, sir, thank you for asking! Um, can I ask you something?"
"Go for it, little dude."
Angus pushes his glasses up on his nose and looks at Magnus, boot raised to his lips, and winces. "Why are you drinking out of so many random things?"
"Oh, that one's easy," Taako says, setting the vase down on the table, "someone stole all of the glasses from the kitchen, so me and the tres horny boys here decided to get creative."
He takes another swig of vase juice.
Angus isn't quite sure what to say to that.
"Yeah," Magnus pipes up, "Want a sip, Ango?" He holds out his boot and Angus can see liquid sloshing around inside. He takes a step back, fight or flight response kicking right in, before he remembers his manners.
He clears his throat, "um, no thank you, sir."
Magnus shrugs, "suit yourself."
Angus turns back to Taako, eyebrows raised, curiosity peaked, he does love a good mystery, "who stole all the glasses?"
Taako smiles, lightly, "no clue, kiddo, isn't that your job?'
Angus considers this. It is his job, he is the world's greatest detective, after all. He smiles back at Taako, "yes, sir, it is!"
He turns on his heel and begins to head towards the distressed staff members, figuring that's the best way to start to collect information. He starts to compile a list of the most obvious suspects in his mind but both his train of thought and stride are broken when Taako grabs him by the shirt collar and pulls him back.
"Woah, woah, woah, wait just a minute Ango," he spins him around and meets his eyes, "Eat some breakfast before you go all Hardy Boys on this thing, you can't go around detecting on an empty stomach."
Angus nods gratefully, and he feels something warm in the pit of his stomach at the affection in Taako's voice, "'that is true, sir."
Taako reaches out a hand and offers him an apple. Angus accepts with a toothy grin that only gets wider when he walks away and hears Merle murmur "sap" behind him and Taako responds with a huff and a "shut up."
When Angus reaches the Beaureu staff members who are collapsed in apparent defeat, they don't even look up at him. He pauses for a brief moment, then clears his throat.
"Excuse me?"
Someone groans, and sits up-a half-elf that Angus doesn't recognize. She brushes her hair out of her face and looks at him with two tired, gray eyes. Her voice is soft but the tone is wrecked as she spits out, "what do you want?" like she hasn't slept in a hundred years.
Angus shifts his weight from foot to foot, bouncing as he goes, book pulled tight to his chest. "I was just wondering if you guys were alright?"
Angus is perfectly aware of how not alright they all look, but he figures he may get points for courtesy. The half-elf blinks slowly, letting her eyes fall shut and stay that way for a beat longer than normal before opening them again. "What the fuck does it look like?"
Well, he tried. He pulls a notebook from his pocket and a pen from behind his ear, "What happened here, ma'am?"
"I'll tell you what fucking happened, someone stole every glass we've got, and those idiots-" she gestures towards Taako, Magnus, and Merle with a thumb, "-are killing us." She drops her voice to a whisper, "this morning I saw the elf pour orange juice straight into his pocket and drink it with a straw," she shudders.
"Well," Angus says, "it all tastes like key lime gogurt to him, ma'am."
She blinks again, "look, I don't even want to begin to unpack that. You're the detective kid, right? Agnes McElroy or whatever?"
"Angus McDonald, ma'am, that's me," he sticks out his hand to shake hers but she leaves it in the air, instead reaching out and seizing him by the shoulders, the weary look in her eyes turning frantic, her grip strong and she shakes his tiny boy body, "Please, please, find who did this, end our suffering. Agno McDaniels, you're our last hope." Then she looks back at the reclaimers, and Merle downs a big swish of bowl fluid, and her face crumples. She sits back on the ground and returns to the fetal position, leaving Angus with a mission. He's got a mystery to solve.
Angus McDonald would like to say that he solved a difficult mystery, one for the ages, to sit right up next to Caleb Cleaveland, Kid Cop. But in reality, he thought for one minute about who in their right mind would and could steal a bunch of glasses from the cafeteria and he found only one suspect.
Now, many people at the BoB were willing and known to pull pranks, on scales larger and smaller than the glass fiasco. But Angus knew only one who could pull off a scheme like this, only one who had not only the skill but the drive and desire to steal, with the reward being chaos and nothing but. A rogue, of course, with a need for entertainment. Training did get boring after a while.
That's how he finds himself standing in front of the room belonging to one Dragonborn rogue, Carey Fangbattle (and her girlfriend Killian.) He raises his fist to the door, raps his knuckles against it in a light knock, and waits for it to swing open. When it does, it reveals the looming form of Killian, arms crossed, looking straight over his head. He clears his throat and she glances down, smirking a little when her eyes finally land on him.
“Hello, ma’am," he says, as politely as possible, "Is Ms. Car-“
Killian cuts him off before the words are out of his mouth. “She’s hiding.”
He blinks, “pardon?”
“She’s hiding.” She repeats, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She knew it was only a matter of time before you figured her out so she ran off.”
Angus studies Killian’s face carefully as she speaks, noticing the way her smirk only grows the longer she talks. He squints his eyes.
“You know where she is.” He deduces.
“Clever kid.” She smiles at him fondly, glances through the door then back at him, “I’ll never tell.”
Angus smiles too, the big grin reserved for mystery solving. “That I am, ma’am,” then he ducks under Killian’s legs and runs into the room.
“Ms. Carey!” He yells, scanning the room as Killian chases behind him, shouting after him, giggling wildly and swatting at his heels. “Ms. Carey, I know you’re in here! Your girlfriend is a good liar, but-“ he shouts, throwing a cushion off the couch, “-but I’m the world’s greatest oof!”
Angus yelps as he’s lifted off the ground like a rag doll, arms going limp, notebook dropping to the floor with a thud. Killian managed to wrap an arm around Angus’ waist and hoist him up high. A squeak escapes his lips as he grabs at the arms around him and tries to squeeze out of her grip.
“Ms. Killian, please." he says seriously, "It’s my duty to capture the culprit of the glass theft mystery, the cooking staff is relying on me,” he huffs, “I’m their last hope, Mr. Taako drank orange juice out of his pocket!”
Killian swings him around in a big circle, and he squeals, flapping his hands.
And that’s when he sees it. For barely a second, a flash of blue, from a door to behind the couch, a blur of color moving almost too fast. Almost. But Angus McDonald is the master of noticing things that shouldn't be noticeable.
Angus wriggles out of Killian’s grasp and falls to the ground. He pulls himself to his feet as quickly as he can, heart racing in his ears, then he takes off sprinting towards the couch, leaping over the back and landing right on Carey Fangbattle’s shrieking form.
He lands on her chest and stays there. She gives him a smug smile.
“Hey, Ango.”
She says it casually, and she sounds very pleased with herself. Angus takes a moment to catch his breath, wheezing while he gathers his thoughts.
“How have you done this?” He demands, pointing a finger at Carey’s grinning face, “no, actually, why have you done this?”
Carey shrugs, “I dunno, I’m a kickass rogue and the moon is boring.”
Angus figures that’s a fair point. He lets himself breathe for another moment, then he stands up and wipes off his pants, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in his clothes. He offers Carey a hand to pull her onto her feet too, but Carey just hops up with minimal effort, team sweet flips style. Angus stares at Carey with a serious look set on his little boy features.
“Magnus was drinking out of his boot, ma’am, please return the glasses.”
Carey gapes at him for a second, yellow eyes wide and cloudy.
Magnus what?” She stammers, “I-“
Then she starts laughing, doubled over, clutching her stomach, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.
She reaches out and ruffles Angus’ hair, and the boy has to fight a smile. This is serious detective work, after all, and he has an image to maintain.
“God, Angus,” she breathes, after a moment, “that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while," she says, "but there’s no way in hell I’m telling you where the glasses are.”
Angus frowns, trying not to pout. Detective work is harder than people give him credit for. “Why not?”
“Taako drank out of his pocket," she looks thrilled, "I’m not sacrificing something like that. It’s too valuable.”
And that makes Angus’ frown fade slightly. It’s too valuable to her, so it’s got a value. That leaves room for bargaining so-
“What if I could find you something more valuable?”
Carey gives him a curious but doubtful look. “Don’t think you could, buddy.”
“She’s right,” Killian says behind him and he turns to face her. “If you could do it, we’d give it to you but-I mean come on.” Waves her hands, “Merle was drinking from a bowl this morning. And fucking Tasha was crying in a heap on the floor! That’s the dream, Angus.”
Angus doesn't know who Tasha is, but figures she's on the cooking staff. Still, he doesn't know that anyone deserves a punishment like that.
“Making Tasha cry?”
“Well yeah, but the other thing too.”
Angus hums, fixing his glasses. He walks over to his fallen journal and flips to a new page. What’s more rewarding than chaos? What do they want more than they want to see Tasha suffer? He scribbles something in his notebook, scratches it out. He glances back up at Carey and Killian. They’re looking at each other in the gross, mushy, lovey-dovey way that adults do sometimes. He wrinkles his nose, then a thought hits him, like a lightbulb above his head slowly but steadily flickering to life.
“What if,” he suggests, writing in his notebook. “I can get you guys a vacation?"
The pair look at each other again. "That's basically unheard of, Ango," says Carey.
Angus nods, considering the idea, "if anyone can do it, it's me ma'am."
And he's right, and he's not bragging because his grandpa said not to do that. He's just good at what he does, and it just so happens that in this case, what he does is convince the Directer to give the regulators a break. And it's not like they don't deserve one. Carey sighs.
"Fine. I'll give you the glasses if you get us a few days off, deal?"
She sticks out her hand and Angus shakes it earnestly, toothy grin on his face.
"Deal."
Carey walks over to the dresser, pulls a key from her sleeve, and sticks it in the slot in the bottom drawer, twisting the key then tugging the drawer out to reveal rows upon rows of drinking glasses. She waves a hand over them.
"All yours, kid."
And Angus McDonald's grin widens, and he steps forward.