Chapter Text
There was always a miasma that hung over the lobby of the DSO. Strangely, it wasn't from the intense work that the agents underwent, or even the political pressure that came from being settled right smack dab between other government agencies. No, none of the agents reeked of the loneliness and worry that Leon had been smelling for the last few weeks after his last long-haul mission. He had been paying close attention to the agents, after all, it was his job. After Rhodes Hill and Elpis, Leon took a more calm promotion. He oversaw all of the DSO agents, wrangled them, trained them, cleaned up their stupid mistakes, because as much as he was an old man that needed to be behind a desk, there was still that young alpha that just wanted to hunt.
It had been an instinct of his since he was a little boy, but school and polite society had ironed it out of him. Before Krauser ripped him apart and remade him back into the bloodthirsty little creature. It knawed at the edges of his brain sometimes. When the latent Raccoon City infection had him in its grasp, the corners of his focus frayed.
He wasn't necessarily hunting prey tracking down this scent. It was more for the health of his agents, yeah, if an agent was going through that horrible of an experience, Leon didn't want them out in the feild in that state. He prided himself in having a healthy force.
Healthy Pack
Sherry was confused when he brought it up after a meeting, since Leon didn't often express much of an aptitude for scents. She had called him "emotionally rock-like" not too long ago when he had recounted an event at a bar.
"Seriously Leon, all I could smell was one of those gross scent enhancers," she sighed, "support staff always think they can get an agent on their tail with those."
Sure, Leon had smelled the sickly-sweet fruit smell mixed with a buttery marshmallow tinge that had been upped by a drugstore enhancer that probably advertised an "evening" effect on their scent, but there was still a stale quality. Almost like a candy that had been kept in a box for a long time, so it tasted more like cardboard than chocolate.
Ingrid joined them on the walk, threading in on the other side of Leon seamlessly. His trusty operator had also gotten a similar promotion to his own, where he managed agents, she did the same with operators. While Leon was extremely happy with his position—out of the limelight, but still able to help—Hunnigan was not as satisfied. She wanted operater of the whole dang show someday.
"Ugh I hate those things. Does HR vet these new admin staff?" she comiserated at the trio drifted towards their wall of offices.
"I don't know," Leon said, "I still smelled something wrong, but all of my agents in there are right as rain. I would know if something was going on with them."
Whether his agents be omega, beta, or alpha, they all tended to have easily mask-able scents. Rainwater, the sharp bite of pine, or freshly-turned soil. Sure, the locker rooms became quite…earthy most of the time, but it was just part of the job. There was nothing saying that someone with a sweeter or more synthetic scent couldn't be an agent, but they often just took full-on blockers. Those who did that were just as susceptible to the type of low moods that someone experiencing a full cycle would be, though, so Leon kept a tight grip on the rotation of specialists and therapists that serviced the DSO.
Healthy Pack
But…this distressed scent was throwing him off.
"Does HR still do a scent profile when they do fresh hires?"
Hunnigan scoffed. It was much more of a "normal office" practice to give your scent profile. The Department of Secondary Affiliations paired up with both NODS and NADS (National Omega and Alpha Departments of Safety, respectively) to give a spread of the naturally occuring and synthetic scent notes that one could have and made it available to almost every employer so they could be more familiar with their new employee. The DSO was not a normal office space, but they were provided DoSA's services, since they contracted out specialists.
"I think they just hired a new front desk secretary?"
That would explain how the miasma only hung over the lobby. He nodded, sending short goodbyes to the two women before ducking into his dark office. It was stark and blank, but it also did everything that he needed it to do, which was enough for Leon. The computer came alive under his fingers, and a quick check of the HR's recent emails to the office shows three 'new hire' profiles.
Leon opens the DoSA's little profiles of the workers, finding fun little blog-like pages on all of them. Leon scoffed much like Hunnigan did. He wondered what his looked like. Did he even have one?
The first one was a trim young man with thin glasses, and Leon nixed him as a possibility before even reading his scent profile. Not the 'sweet' kind. That, and he was marked as a new IT worker. The second was front desk-worker, who was a flouncy-looking young woman with curly bright red hair and the type of fashion you don't forget. Her scent notes were listed as "nutty, maple, sweet", which was not the sad, cardboard-stale scent that he had been hunting.
Lastly, there was a carefully created page detailing an "information specialist" that completed her work at the front desk. There were plenty of listed intrests that included reading and writing and painting and skating, but no pictures. Only a carefully printed name and a typed emoticon smiley face. Her scent notes were "citrus, marshmallow", which would fit exactly into what Leon had been overwhelmed with during the briefing. There was a small note under the scent profile where the person could write something that had not been available per DoSA.
She wrote "like a rice crispy with fruity pebbles :D".
Leon cut his eyes towards his office door, then the clock at the bottom of his computer. It was a little early, but he had finished all of his tasks for the day, and he wasn't much of an overachiever like Sherry or Ingrid. Maybe he could sling his long-forgotten gym bag over his shoulder and feign leaving early to hit the rec?
The trick was set, and Leon slipped out of his office with nothing than a nod to Sherry who didn't even look up from the endless piles of work that always accumulated on her desk. She was one of the DSO agents that had to mask their scent, considering that she always had the scent of fresh-baked pastries. Her mate loved it, considering Jake hadn't really had sweets when he was a kid, but Leon had a certain longing for it.
All the cubicles were full of agents or operators with their heads down, reading files or completing paperwork. No one looked up at his passing, and Leon made it to the elevator in no time. His wingtips left clicking sounds on the tiled floor as he waited, a touch impatiently, to arrive at the bottom floor.
As the doors whooshed open, Leon's nose wrinkled. There was that cardboard warehouse smell, but it was also tinged with burning sugar. He quickly turned the corner to see what had turned a scent so horribly, and saw a shape practically bent over the front desk. It was a man, one of the cadets that had been in rotation and landed this month at headquarters. Just a sprout of a boy, who's sneering face gave him the countenance of a much older, slimier man.
"Cadet," a firm voice with a bit of a rough edge to it ground out behind the desk, getting clearer as Leon neared, "You have about five seconds to fix your body before I do it for you."
The cadet's smirk only grew, "Or what, omega? You're going to cry to your boss about me?"
Leon was close enough to see your face, finishing the missing information on your DoSA profile. The cadet's snide comment left your eyes with a flash of steel before your manicured hand darted out, nails long and sharp, gripping the young man's face. Leon could see the points curling into his skin and your iron grip locking in firmly on his jaw.
"Worse," you growled, shoving his face away from you. The cadet rubbed his face, then set his face with a disgusted look. Before the boy could do anything, though, Leon stepped in his way, lowering his head and murmuring something in the cadet's ear that sent the man stock still and marching out the front doors.
You didn't seem to notice the interaction, but when Leon approached you, your careful typing stopped. Leon's breath rumbled as he kept a respectable distance from you, elbows propped at the front desk. Your eyes didn't turn to him, so Leon couldn't see if they were still full of molten metal.
"Did you fire him?" your tone still had that rasp to it. Leon snorted.
"Worse," he turned to the front doors, "I'm recommending him to the BSAA. Kid's got good stats, shame he's such an ass. I've got a friend over there that'll iron all the dick out of him."
You nodded, turning to look at the files beside your keyboard. The clack of your keyboard started, and Leon took a long second to just watch you type with those knife-like nails. It seemed so hard, but you did it with ease. He was fascinated until you continued to speak with that raspy, unaffected voice.
"Who exactly are you?"
"An agent," for some reason, Leon didn't want to give up his name. He didn't want his big government status to either scare you away or make you suspicious of him.
"Alright mister agent…what do you want."
That was when you turned fully to him, hands stopping on the keyboard, and the full brunt of your glare upon him. Your eyes had such fire to them that Leon couldn't help but smirk back, making those beautiful eyes roll.
"Just getting to know the newest member of the DSO office," he continued, trying to turn on his supposed charm, "I was wondering, though, what exactly is an information specialist? I just assumed that all you ladies did up here was greet and field calls."
Another large roll of the eyes made him worry about the health of your vision, but all you did was turn back to your computer and think for a second before you fully answered Leon, "I have an actual office, you know?" the accusation hung in the air before you continued to speak, "they just needed someone to fill in time in the back half of the week."
"So what do you do in that mysterious office, Miss specialist?" Leon was genuinely interested, considering that you seemed so determined to return to the task that he was trying and failing to draw you away from.
"Log information. Make it accessible in that horrible mess of an archive you all have got here. Request for more metadata when an agent doesn't fill in all of the blanks on a form, takes a lot of uninterrupted focus," it was pointed at him, but Leon dodged the pointed barb with another question.
"Does greeting the worker bees of DC break that focus?"
You squinted at him.
"You're breaking it right now, Mister Agent."
Leon let out a little huff at your response, and gave a light knock at the polished stone of the front desk, "Alright, I'll leave you to your uninterrupted focus, Miss specialist."
The whisp of the cardboard stale rice krispies followed him as Leon strode out of the building and to his Porsche, parked a few rows back from his labeled spot. It felt stupid to announce who you were and what car you drove, but there was a quick thought of you learning his name from the simple act of him jumping in the driver's side of the dummy car that he switched out every few days. Leon dismissed it, though.
You seemed smart enough to figure it out on your own.