Chapter Text
As soon as Tobias woke up, he could tell something was wrong. Even still half asleep, he was immediately hit by a feeling of unease and discomfort. At first, he figured must have just had a bad night, lacking in restful sleep-
Until he brought a hand to rub his eyes and quickly realised it wasn’t his hand.
The differences are immediately obvious, as soon as the skin makes contact he feels how rough it is, how calloused and dry. He flinches away, looking down at his hand in confusion only to see thick, bulky fingers, and more concerningly, thick layers of scarring around his wrist. In his half asleep state, it takes a moment of examining the hand, and looking down at himself before it finally clicks.
He can’t stop the yelp of shock that leaves his lips as he jolts back- the sound deeper than anything his own body would produce. Because this isn’t his own body, it’s Malcolm’s. The realisation sends his heart pounding, then he remembers it’s not his heart and his breathing begins to pick up.
He can hear himself wheezing, an unfamiliar tightness in his lungs- Malcolm’s lungs. There’s the smoking to blame for that, he supposes. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to calm down but there’s an ache in his back and an unfamiliar itch under his skin, making it painfully obvious that this is all wrong.
And then before Fate can even recover from the initial shock, he wonders, what about his own body. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep, in a bed beside Malcolm’s, where he’d woken up. Shakily, he turns to look to his side of the room and sure enough, sees himself sleeping. Is he sleeping? Or is he looking at an empty husk? Is he looking at Malcolm? The only way to tell would be to wake him up but he can’t seem to urge himself to move, the sight of his own face from another perspective leaving him with an odd sense of numbness and detachment. It’s unlike anything he’d felt before- given this had never happened before. None of it felt real.
But then his body begins to stir- it’s odd watching himself move knowing he isn’t the one doing it, and yet he can’t look away. He’s almost entranced as he sees himself struggle, seemingly still asleep and yet turning with an expression of discomfort that looks wrong on his face. After a moment of mumbling and what sounds like pained grunts, Fate watches his own eyes widen, immediately locking onto him.
“What-“ he hears his voice mumble, confused, before the other seems to have the same series of realisations. His eyes widen and he sits upright with a start, looking down at himself, his hands, even reaching up to feel his face. “ Tobias? ” He mutters before continuing more frantically “Tobias, what the fuck -“
“Malcolm?” Tobias asks in response, finally getting his- or rather, Malcolm’s voice to work with him. Malcolm in his body, turns to look at him with a mortified expression that he knows he’d never pull, only cementing the situation. Hearing each other’s voices with their accents just slightly off is uncanny enough to send a whole new wave of anxiety through the two men alongside the mere sight of their own eyes staring back at them. “Malcolm, I think we… transferred bodies somehow-“
“No shit.” Malcolm huffs, still trying to catch his breath. He wrings his hands subconsciously, presumably in an attempt to ground himself before his fidgeting escalates to the point he picks at the skin of his knuckles. Fate watches for a second before remembering those are his own knuckles and quickly snaps.
“Hey! Don’t damage my body!” It surprises him, how angry he sounds through Graves’ voice- he hadn’t meant to come across so harsh, but it gets the other to stop. Malcolm freezes, startled, and looks to where he’d been scratching at the skin of his hands, only then seeming to realise what he’d been doing.
“Sorry- wasn’t on purpose-“ he apologises before moving his arms to his sides to prevent further damage, now rocking back and forth instead. It does little to soothe him. Every movement, every breath only serves to remind him that this isn’t his body, no matter how much he avoids looking to where his own face stares back at him.
“I-it’s okay - “ Fate tries to reassure, getting frustrated with himself. “I’m not mad just…” confused, scared even, not that he was planning to admit that. He doesn’t understand what happened or why, or most importantly: how to fix it. “I’m just shaken up.”
“Yeah, me too..” Graves trails off, still seemingly failing to ground himself. His eyes stare blankly ahead, a look Fate recognises despite being on the wrong face. He’s not all there- getting too caught in his own head, and it’s not like he can blame him.
“Malcolm.. it’s gonna be alright.” He tries to calm the other, trying to keep any shakiness out of his voice. He’s no stranger to empty words, he only hopes this time they’ll help. “We’ll fix this.”
“Yeah, we better.” Malcolm mumbles, uncharacteristically quiet. The fact that he’s responding at all is a good sign, really. Ordinarily, Tobias would try to keep him grounded with light touches, and on especially bad days- he’d hold him- though he can’t imagine the action would be at all comforting from his own body .
He figures Malcolm needs a moment to process and so for a moment he keeps to himself and tries to think- what happened? What could have caused this? He highly doubted it was a personal attack, they were good at covering their tracks.. mostly. Besides, if someone wanted revenge, this didn’t seem like the most convenient way to go about it. They hadn’t had any yordle encounters lately, so that was out of the question- and then it occurs to him.
They handled many cursed or protected items or objects on a regular basis, stealing them for clients or simply to sell off… it was such a familiar practice they hadn’t bothered to question the job they’d been given most recently, completing it without hesitation. He reaches up to stroke his beard in the midst of his thought only to realise it wasn’t there- bringing his hand down with a sigh.
Vaguely, he remembers the case it’d been in. Engraved with what he figures must have been a curse of some sort. The carving had been worn.. not entirely legible even if he had had the mind to pay attention. The benefit of hindsight.. maybe if he’d caught a better look he’d know what the hell was going on. “Damnit.” He mumbles to himself, attracting Malcolm’s attention.
“What- what’s wrong?” He asks, before chuckling humourlessly as he looks away sheepishly. “Besides the obvious.”
“I think I know what caused this.” Fate begins, avoiding looking at Malcolm, knowing he’s going to have that sudden wide eyed and hopeful look he gets. It’s going to look all wrong on his face. And he can’t stand to see it drop once he says “Trouble is, I have absolutely zero clue how to fix it.”
“Well what use is that?” Malcolm whines, and the other feels his patience growing shorter by the second. This is stressful enough as is.
“It’s more of a start than you’ve got.” He mutters bitterly, under his breath. The other clearly hears him, scowling deeply but saying nothing. “Don’t frown like that, you’ll give me wrinkles.”
“It’s my face for the time being, I’ll wrinkle it if I want.” The other fires back, and Tobias can’t tell if he’s being spiteful or just generally frustrated. That’s not the biggest of their problems though, leading Fate to sigh deeply. It’s hard to focus due to the confusion alone- but being stuck in Malcolm’s clearly unwashed body isn’t helping- he can practically feel the grease on his skin.
“Well then I’m gonna go shower to help me think.” Tobias bites back, before taunting petulantly. “Since this is my body right now, and unlike you- I’m not leaving it all grimy like this.”
And quite alarmingly, something seems to change in Graves’ attitude at that, his eyes widening as he rushes to stop Tobias before he can leave. He stumbles over his legs-they’re longer than he’s used to- but regardless, stops the other in his tracks. “Wait- we need to lay out ground rules. ”
Tobias realises quite quickly that he’s having to glare up at Malcolm right now- a change he doesn’t enjoy, especially not when trying to make a point. “I’ve seen you naked before, Malcolm, no need to fret.” He completely disregards the fact that the last time he’d seen that was well over a decade ago, but he could assume certain areas were similar enough, and it wasn’t like he was planning to linger.
However those words do nothing to ease the other, his worry evident as he continues to protest. “We should still talk about it though, right? Maybe you could do it with the light off or something-“
“So I can slip over and die? No thanks.” Fate begins before trying to push past the other, only for Malcolm to grab his shoulder.
“Just don’t look for more than you have to.” He states, trailing off for a moment before mumbling a quiet “ Please. ” And that gives the man pause. Malcolm wasn’t one to plead for anything - even when it could have meant life or death. Hearing that word from him was an immediate tip off that this was something serious to him. So, he relents.
“I won’t.” Is his reply, trying to reassure Graves. “I promise it’s just to help clear my mind. Nothing more than a quick rinse, I’ll be done in a few minutes.” He’d have to cut out a lot of the stages of his usual hygiene routine, but that was fine by him. It’s not like he wanted to waste all his expensive products on Malcolm’s face.
This time Malcolm seems ti relax slightly- but only slightly. He sighs with relief but there’s still a tense worry to his expression, a slight furrow in his brow- though Tobias doesn’t comment on it this time. He can’t say he understands why the other seemed so jittery but he chalks it up to the general fear and nerves that come with being forced into a different body.
God knows he feels jumpy too, he only hopes a few minutes under some hot water will help. True to his word, as he peels off Graves’ clothes, he tries to look anywhere but down, at least until he has to lean down to pick them up and catches a glimpse of something across his skin. He tries to ignore it until he stands up and catches another glance in the mirror. Even just out of the corner of his eye, it’s enough to make him drop the clothes in shock.
Numerous scars are littered across Graves’ body- his arms, torso, even his neck, are marred. He expected a few but not this many- not so brutal. A thick band of layered, mutilated tissue circles his throat, disturbingly matching the texture of the bands on his wrists. A few of the scars are familiar to him- old gunshot grazes and two clean lines beneath each of his pectorals- but what unsettled him is that there are more which share a similar surgical precision. Namely, there’s a series of joint lines that stretches across the top of his chest, down to his stomach, in a large Y shape. It’s placed intentionally, but the edges are rough and still appear pink and raw despite their healed state. Tobias couldn’t imagine what it must have come from.
Worse is he realises Malcolm must know about it all too well. every mark he’s looking at- every scratch, to gunshot wound, to slice of a scalpel is something Malcolm felt- and he’d had no idea about any of it. Most likely is that Malcolm didn’t want him to, either. He’d never questioned why the other was so resistant to changing his clothes, or why he’d been so panicked just now- but soon the pieces slid into place.
And he’d already broken his promise of not looking more than necessary. Shakily, he finds his hands tracing the lines down his front. He’s no medical expert but he can see it ran deep, he can picture the way the skin must have pulled back and- who could blame him for being curious. Gunshots and knife wounds, the occasional bad burn- those were all part of their job description but the rest of it- most of it, rather, was nothing Tobias could have expected.
For a moment, he simply stares at the reflection in a mortified kind of fascination before remembering what he’d originally gone there to do- and so he gets on with it. He’s sure the scars will become easier to ignore given there was no sign of switching back in the next few hours. Or the next few days- maybe not ever, he begins to worry, chewing the inside of his cheek before remembering he shouldn’t cause damage to Malcolm’s body if he can avoid it.
With a sigh, he turns on the water and tries to look at anything but the mirror while he waits for it to heat up. It thankfully isn’t long before he can step under the water, already feeling better as the warmth washes over him. For a moment, he just stands there and enjoys it, before remembering that water alone definitely isn’t enough to clean the dirt and grease from his skin.
He’s unsure of how best to go about it. He lathers the soap on his hands, and simply stares at them for a second before turning away to stare at the tiled wall instead. It’s not like he has to look, but feeling his hands run along his skin and then remembering that this is Malcolm’s skin he’s touching is hard to ignore.
He grits his teeth in frustration. This was supposed to help clear his mind and yet he finds himself even more distracted than before. It’s difficult not to notice every way in which Malcolm’s body is different to his own- how his hands are rough and calloused and the skin beneath them as he washes is just as uneven if not more so.
Something else he can’t help but notice- is the way the aching in his back and joints he’d felt since waking seemed to dull down as the heat seeped into his body. Why doesn’t Malcolm do this more often? It’s clearly good for him. Despite only having dealt with the ache since waking, he can’t help but sigh with relief, trying to relax and enjoy the heat of the water seeping into his joints-
But he’s interrupted as he hears hard knocking against the door, accompanied by a muffled yell. “You’re taking an awful long time for a quick rinse- “ Malcolm yells, startling the other. “Hurry up, we still need to talk!” He finishes, and Fate rolls his eyes. God forbid he do Malcolm’s body a favour. He can’t for the life of him understand what the other has against the minimums of self care- but on the other hand, he had promised not to dwell.
With a groan, he turns off the water, grimacing as the cold air hits him, sending shivers through him. Quickly, he grabs the nearest towel and begins to dry off, grimacing at how he can still feel the unevenness of his skin beneath it, before reaching for the clothes he’d left discarded on the floor.
His knees and back ache sharply, protesting the movement and leaving Tobias biting his lip to stifle an exclamation of pain- Malcolm could have at least warned him about that. It’s all for nothing too, when finally lifting the clothes makes it obvious how dirty they are.
Fate rolls his eyes, there’s no point going through the effort of cleaning himself if he’s just going to put those on and get dirty all over again. So, he instead reaches for a towel, wrapping himself up in it and carrying the clothes out with him.
When he swings open the door, he’s met with the sight of Malcolm polishing destiny- or at least trying to. He seems to struggle with her weight, grunting as he tries to turn her over- stopping once he sees Tobias emerge from the bathroom.
“I told you not to look-“ Malcolm begins, brows furrowing at the sight before he looks at the clothes still crumpled in the other’s hands. “Why aren’t you wearing anything?”
“Because your clothes are just as if not more dirty than you were.” Tobias grumbles back before beginning to fold the clothes, preparing to hand them off to room service in hopes they’d clean them. It’s easy at first but around halfway through, his wrists start to ache, fingers protesting the motions. He winces, his discomfort showing on his face before Malcolm pipes up.
“You’re gonna want to keep the gloves on at least.” He mumbles, still focused on his gun and grunting with effort as he places her back against the table. Tobias on the other hand, turns to him in confusion. Of all the things to tell him to wear- he suggests the gloves.
“Why would I do that?” He asks, and the other simply shrugs before beginning to explain.
“They’re compressive.” He says, flippantly, now beginning to examine his- or rather Tobias’ nails, seemingly fascinated, not looking up as he explains. “They help with the aches. Got ‘em in Piltover, so they’re pretty good.”
The other simply stares at him, surprised by the information. Never once had Malcolm mentioned dealing with any of this- and his gloves, at first glance, looked more like guards for his knuckles and palms when lugging his gun around. The revelation that they were simply for joint pain wasn’t something he’d ever considered, mainly because he’d had no clue Malcolm experienced it in the first place. “And you didn’t tell me this, why? ” He pries, and Graves sighs in response.
“Because somebody didn’t want to talk about ground rules.” Which.. is true, and Fate bites his tongue realising he can’t argue. “Which honestly I think are more important than your shower. Do you know how boring it was just sitting and waiting for you? It’s not like I can go anywhere like this.” He still doesn’t look at Tobias, chuckling to himself as he continues. “You were just very eager to see me naked I guess. You know you could have just asked me before all this happened, would’ve been less awkward.”
It’s a joke- it’s so clearly a joke, but Tobias feels his face flush at the idea. The combination of even entertaining that thought alongside his embarrassment that he probably should have listened to Malcolm leaves him frustrated. “Fine then. What are the rules you’re so damn insistent on.” He relents, sitting on the bed opposite Malcolm who smirks at the success of his teasing.
“Well first of all,” Malcolm begins, gesturing to where the gloves still lay in the pile of his clothes. “The aforementioned gloves stay on most of the time.” Next, he lists off on his fingers. “Second, you’re gonna want to sleep with a pillow under your knees, or flat on your back if you can- so you don’t wake up stiff or sore.”
Those being the first rules surprised Tobias if only because they were so specific. He’d always assumed Graves didn’t care much for personal comfort given his lack of interest in a hygiene routine but apparently not. Given he’d woken up in a sprawled position, he assumes that must be why his back had been so achy- so definitely something to keep in mind, but there’s more to come.
“Thirdly, I don’t care about you bathing or whatever.” That one somehow shocks Tobias more than the first two given how resistant to it Malcolm seems usually, but regardless, he listens. “You’ve seen it now anyway- but if you’re gonna come out in a towel, wrap it around the chest.”
The other wants to ask why- that just seems plain odd to him, pointless even, but then he looks down and catches sight of that long surgical scar he couldn’t miss. It’s only one out of a collection of gouges and gashes but it’s hard to ignore- and given how Malcolm had been pointedly avoiding looking at him, it seemed he’d been trying to do so. With that in mind, Tobias turns away for a moment- readjusting the towel to cover the chest- down, instead.
“There.” He states, and Malcolm glances up. He still appears tense but it’s understandable given he’s staring at himself. “Anything else?”
The other hums in consideration, before gesturing flippantly. “I think the rest is pretty common sense, don’t do anything that’ll fuck me up?” He says rhetorically before seeming to think of something else. “And no sleeping around. I don’t know how long we’ll be stuck like this but regardless, you ain’t using my body for any of that . ”
“ Hey, ” Fate whines, less in protest and more in offense. “What do you take me for? Why would I?” He argues, folding his arms defiantly. “I enjoy a fling here and there but that only works out cos of my good looks.” With that, he points to Graves before gesturing to himself with a humourless chuckle. “I doubt I’ll have much luck like this anyway.”
It’s only after he says the words that he realises how insulting they sound, eyes snapping up to where Graves is glaring at him with a deep scowl. A moment of tense silence hangs between them before Tobias clears his throat awkwardly. “Was there anything else?”
Graves’ frown doesn’t waver as he mutters “No.” with a shrug, he looks away and mentally, Fate kicks himself for making their already bad situation feel worse. “Your turn, I guess.”
For a moment- Tobias thinks about apologising, but given how Graves still looked disgruntled at best, he doubted it would be of much help. He instead tries to think, unsure of where to really start- after all, these weren’t things he’d ever had to consider before.
“Most of them apply already,” he begins, shrugging. “Mostly about the not fucking me up parts.” He then switches to sounding stern as he states, “In fact I’d prefer you take care of my body as much as I do.”
Malcolm snaps to face him at that, squinting at him sceptically. “What’s that supposed to mean?”. Tobias can’t help but roll his eyes because he’s almost certain that, after so long of knowing him, he has to know what it means- but regardless, he begins to explain.
“It means you’re keeping up my routines-“ he sees Malcolm open his mouth and immediately cuts him off “And yes, I mean all of them- hair, skin, the daily bathing. I’ll talk you through them.”
The other man doesn’t look frustrated but rather nervous, which surprises Fate. Malcolm avoided baths like the plague- he assumed suggesting he do it daily would make way for anger. Instead, he replies. “Isn’t that a tad excessive?”
“For you? Absolutely.” Fate agrees before gesturing to himself. “For me? Not at all- and it’s my body you’re in, Mal.” Not that it isn’t obvious but regardless, Graves whines in protest.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start!” Somehow the sound of his own voice with such a petulant tone is grating to Tobias’ ears, and so with his patience growing ever shorter he offers.
“You’ll just have to figure them out then!.” Graves doesn’t seem any less placated by that, no matter how much he reasons. “Look- when I get my body back, I want it to be well cared for! I’d do the same for you, y’know, if you had any kind of routines.”
“But we don’t know how long that’ll be-“ Malcolm argues. “Could be fixed by today, could take weeks, we have no idea what’s going on. ” Tobias is about to argue before remembering he hadn’t actually told Malcolm what he’d been thinking may be the cause, letting the other continue “We have bigger things to worry about and you know it!”
Well- he isn’t wrong, Fate thinks, but his point still stands. Surely it can’t be that hard to participate in some self care every once in a while- regardless of Malcolm’s aversion to it. He’s not particularly in the mood to argue about it further, however. Like the other said- they have bigger things to worry about, and so, he relents. “Fine- but any more than two days and you’re not getting out of it.”
“Fine by me!” Graves replies, lifting his hands in surrender- though Tobias figures it’s likely, not in fact fine by him. He’s visibly tense, but he can easily attribute that to their overall situation- speaking of which, they should probably focus on trying to resolve.
“Good.” Fate agrees before continuing on. “Now that that’s out of the way- like I said before, I think I know what caused this-“ He sees Malcolm perk up at that, continuing on. “I may not know a solution, but it could lead us to one.”
“Alright then, hit me.” Graves responds, averting his gaze awkwardly as Tobias sits on the bed opposite him, the towel beginning to slip down his chest. “And put on a robe first.” He points to where two robes hang on the back of the door- Tobias doesn’t know how he’d missed that.
“Right.” He mumbles, changing into one while Graves averts his gaze. It’s ironic given there’s no reason he can’t look but Fate can understand that it’s probably a weird sight. He hopes that being slightly more covered will help the experience feel less surreal- once again sitting down before he begins. “I’m decent, can I talk now?”
“Yeah, go ahead.” The other allows, and so Tobias tries to recapture his train of thought,
“You know that little trinket we swiped on our last job?” He asks, and Malcolm nods in response, prompting him to proceed. “It had an inscription on its container.. wouldn’t be the first curse we’ve come across-“
“Wait wait- “ Malcolm interrupts “You could tell this thing was cursed and still decided to swipe it?” He begins to question but before Tobias can answer he continues “ and you didn’t tell me? I really would’ve appreciated the warning about this, T.F!”
Fate can’t help but roll his eyes, already exasperated. He should have known that Malcolm, in typical Malcolm nature, would immediately jump to accusations. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time!” He argues, raising his voice slightly. “Besides- if you’d just let me finish, I’d have explained it was too worn down to read completely- there’s no way to have seen this coming.”
He can’t help but notice Graves looks almost disappointed, alongside a hint of guilt in his expression, leading Tobias to sigh. “Look, I know it’s not a great lead but it’s the most likely cause.”
“I know I know.” Graves relents, but still seems tense and nervous, shoulders hunched and curled in on himself. Tobias thinks perhaps he should tell him not to slouch- it’ll ruin his posture- but ultimately decides not to aggravate him, letting him continue “Where do we go from here?”
Fate hums in thought, trying to make sense of the enchantment. There was no way to tell if it had been a solely protective seal or a property of the item itself. Worse yet was the fact he had no idea if there was any kind of time limit before permanence- hell, they may be past that already. Worst case scenario they have to kindnap another yordle and hope it works as a successful bribe.
Or…”We track down the client, snatch it back.” Malcolm looks up at that, suddenly quite intrigued as Tobias continues. “We both handled the trinket, right?”
“Right..” Malcolm confirms, fidgeting as he wracks his mind. “You got it, I carried it.”
“So it’s probably not the case that was cursed! You weren’t anywhere near it.” The other states, continuing on “If we can get our hands on it, it may switch us back- the client couldn’t have gone far, right?”
“I guess not.” Is the response he gets, accompanied by a shrug. “But how do we track ‘em down? Not like they gave us a name or anything.”
“Don’t need a name.” Tobias chimes, confidently. Graves tilts his head in confusion while the other grins, gesturing to where his coat hangs on the corner of the bed frame. “I have my cards. ”
He practically skips over to fish a deck out of one of the pockets, glad that a solution finally seems to be presenting itself. Nothing against Graves or his body, but he seems to be perpetually aching- nobody can blame him for wanting his not achy body back.
He’s so focused on finding a lead that he doesn’t notice how off his cards feel when he picks them up. They feel- well, like cards. Nothing more to them. There’s no spark, no connection- but Fate’s mind doesn’t register the change. It’s only once he lays out the cards on the bed, intending to read them, that he notices.
They’re dull, powerless. There’s an inherent shimmer to them, a slight movement and energy- but they don’t glow and shift like they do usually. He can’t for the life of him understand why- his abilities aren’t something he’s ever had to think about- he’s a mage for god's sake.
Then, after a moment, it dawns on him that Malcolm isn’t.
Fate can’t get himself to move for a second, frozen by shock. This has never happened before and it feels…worse than he expected. Like part of him is missing, a hollowness blooming in his chest. In the midst of his desperation- he tries again, shuffling the deck, laying them out, staring intently as if that’ll suddenly make them click - but nothing happens.
With his hands still outstretched, he slumps, staring down at the cards- unable to pull his eyes away. He can’t be too surprised, he supposes, but it does make things more difficult. If he can’t read the cards then they have no leads on their client, unless they have miraculously good luck when asking around.
His newfound hope from before quickly shrivels, his heart sinking as he gazes blankly and mutters “ fuck. ” It’s a quiet exclamation but not so quiet that Graves can’t hear it, immediately becoming concerned.
“What? What’s wrong?” Tobias hates how easily Malcolm’s worry shows on his face. He was so used to schooling his expression into something unreadable that he almost forgot what anxiousness looked like on him. It only adds to his current distress- a mixture of discomfort, frustration, and fear bubbling up in his chest.
“I can’t use my cards.” Saying it out loud makes it feel worse, and he avoids looking at Graves as his expression drops impossibly further.
Immediately, the other man scrambles to reassure him, “We can ask around! Or find some other mags to fix this-“ he tries to think of other solutions, mind clouded by worry. “We’ll be fine.”
“And what do we do in the meantime? If someone comes after us?” Fate snaps back, refusing to get his hopes up again. “I can’t shift us out! I can’t fight! And you could barely lift Destiny-“
“Because your body doesn’t have the muscle!” Graves argues, almost whining. Tobias rolls his eyes at the complaint but then the other continues. “Maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you just got your hands dirty and used a real weapon once in a while-“
“Maybe I could-“ Fate interrupts, Malcolm’s ranting sparking an idea. He looks down at his rough, bulky hands then down to Malcolm’s bulkier gun and reaches forward, ignoring how the other’s eyes widen.
“Be careful with her!” He exclaims, suddenly tense. “If you drop her I swear to god-“
But much to his surprise, Tobias lifts the gun easily, hoisting it into his lap without struggle. It wasn’t like it was weightless exactly but Graves certainly had more muscle mass than he was used to. Regardless, it catches both men off guard.
“Well,” Tobias begins, trying to readjust his grip.”Shouldn’t be too hard to figure this out, then at least we’ve got something. ”
Malcolm rolls his eyes at that, “Harder than you’d think.” Fate doesn’t understand why it would be- he’s got good aim, if anything he’s sure flinging his cards is harder. He can figure out a gun.
“How hard can it be?” He replies, examining the weapon. Shooting it should be easy, reloading is the issue- he thinks. For the life of him, he can’t understand why Graves would choose a weapon that needs to be reloaded after two shots, seems inconvenient. “If I can handle my cards I can handle this. ” He states, though he sounds more like he’s trying to persuade himself than Graves.
“Speaking of your cards,” Graves pipes up, reaching out a hand, while Tobias stares in confusion. “Give em here.”
“What? No.” The other immediately declines, still not sure why Malcolm would even expect him to. Those cards are important- replaceable, sure, but more useful than a gun any day. Besides, he wouldn’t trust Graves with anything magical.
“It’s only fair!” The other whines, reaching for his gun which Fate quickly moves out of his reach, much to his annoyance. “If you wanna use my gun, I get to use your cards. Besides- I love Destiny but there’s only so much she can do on her own!”
“Using those cards isn’t as simple as a gun though!” Tobias argues back, growing irritated by the other’s nagging. “At least with Destiny I just have to pull a trigger.”
Graves raises a brow. “If you wanna believe that’s all there is to it, fine- figure it out yourself! Hell- find our client too since that’s what your cards were meant to do.”
Fate tries to refrain from arguing to save his wounded pride. He hates to admit it but the other man has a point- he knows that his magic is inherent and Graves is probably smart enough to use it if he helps. So, despite his frustration, he sweeps up the Deck and hands them over.
“Just be careful.” He prefaces, somewhat nervous. “Don’t move them too much unless you wanna accidentally blow us both up.”
“Calm down, I ain’t gonna. You gotta focus to do that right?” He guesses, splaying the cards out in front of him before humming to himself. “So how do I read them?”
Fate sighs. “See- it’s not very simple. You gotta know what they’re telling you, which you definitely don’t.” He says, sternly, feeling somewhat guilty when he sees Malcolm’s shoulders slump, dejected. “…it helps to try and focus just, shuffle them first, lay em out, turn em over and you’ll just… you’ll know. ”
“Know what? How will I know?” Graves interrogates. He’s seen Fate do the motions before but he figured there’d be more to it- it was a superstitious thing, right?
“You’re in my body, and I’m a mage, there’s inherent magic in me and those cards. Something just..” he pauses, trying to find the words. “It connects. You might find it hard to decipher but you wanted to try.”
Graves doesn’t respond, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he repeats the actions Fate had listed. He eventually gets round to turning the cards over and Tobias sees a minute shift in his expression. A slight widening of his eyes, and his shoulders dropping, evidently shocked.
Unsure of if the reaction was positive or negative, Fate asks. “Are you getting anything?”. He receives a quick shush in return, which for a second he’s offended by- but then he sees how Graves’ eyes are scanning over the cards, slightly glowing with a blue tint. While he’s never seen how he looks doing this before he understands the focus needed. After all, he can’t be mad considering how many times he’s told Malcolm to shut up for the same reason.
After a moment, Malcolm seems to break out of it, mumbling more to himself than his partner. “Well, that was a little vague.”
Shocked that he’d get anything at all, Tobias immediately asks “What? What are they saying-“
“Shh, let me figure it out.” Malcolm replies, fidgeting as he tries to think. Fate bites his tongue to refrain from snapping at the other- figuring any information they could get would be better than bickering. “I think they’re saying our client’s headed North, can’t tell exactly where or how far. I don’t think we’ll have much luck.”
“Wow. Useful.” Fate responds, rolling his eyes. In all honesty it’s more information than he thought Graves would decipher but he doesn’t have the mind to consider that, already frustrated given everything else.
“Not like you can do better right now!” Graves bites back, before sighing deeply in his disappointment. “I guess it’s worth a shot, it’s not like we have other options right now.”
As much as Fate hates to admit it, they really don’t. So, begrudgingly, he agrees. “Fine. We can set off as soon as I find some clean clothes to get into.” He stands up and begins to rummage through Graves’ satchel, ignoring as the other man protests. “What?! It’s not like my clothes are gonna fit.”
That shuts Graves up, before he mumbles inaudibly, looking away.
“Speak up.” Tobias grumbles, still unable to find much but he soon realises why when the other responds.
“I’ve only got one set. You’ll have to wait til they’re washed, or make do.” He says it so casually as if it isn’t absolutely mortifying information- though Fate can’t be too surprised. He just hoped Malcolm owned a lot of very similar looking tattered shirts… too naive of him.
“I’m fixing that as soon as possible.” He says with conviction, “It’s gonna be a while before we can fix this and I cannot live like that.”
“Fine. But you're using your own money.” Malcolm mumbles before continuing on. “You’ve got too many clothes if you ask me. Don’t expect me to wear all of them.”
“You just don’t understand fashion.. or hygiene for that matter.” The other argues, re-packing the bad he’d been searching through. Malcolm had the mind to pack extra ammunition but not clothes. Typical.
“If ‘fashion’ involves twenty buckles on one vest and seven layers to an outfit then no, I really don’t.” Graves replies, beginning to get dressed into something other than what Tobias had slept in (and struggling with the numerous buttons and such).
“Your loss.” Fate mumbles back, deciding to suck it up and wear the clothes. Admittedly, they had bigger problems- hopefully he wouldn’t have to deal with it for long anyway.