Sipping on the last of his coffee, he arrived at the entrance to the agency as a company car pulled up. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Dufault was inside. Apparently, on injury leave or not, the man couldn’t stay away.
“Morning Dufault,” he called, waving casually as the man snapped his head around to stare at him. And stare. And stare some more, for good measure. Honestly, was the hair that bad? “Alright there?”
“Fine. You cut your hair.”
“Mhm. It was about to make a bid for freedom otherwise, I suspect.” He held the door open, waiting for the other man to make his way up, suit lines thrown off by the crutches and boot. He grinned, just a bit enchanted with how humanizing the whole scene was. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here,” Arthur grunted, “or so Boothman kindly reminded me when she called me in for a strategies briefing an hour ago.”
“Ah. Good luck with that.” He saw Dufault off at the elevator, heading down to the operations branch, leaving the other man to the Director’s tender mercies.
---
Arthur blinked stupidly, leaned up against a corner of the otherwise empty elevator headed for the top floor. What the hell did that man think he was doing coming in looking like that. It was wrong, is what it was. All fluffy, wind whipped hair and flushed pink cheeks and oversized green jumper, hazel eyes bright in the autumn light. He looked like a college student in need of a warm meal and a cuddle, not the Deputy Director of Operations for covert affairs indulging in casual Friday. Had to be illegal, he concluded, huffing.
It wouldn’t be so bad, he conceded, if the man would give him the time of day. Honestly, Arthur had never worked quite so hard to win someone over.
‘Serves me right, getting attached,’ he groused, making his way to Boothman’s office. Her secretary jumped up, eager to help him with the door, acting for all the world like he was an actual invalid and not a trained assassin. His eyes narrowed, ego ruffled.
“Good morning, Dufault. Stop glaring at my secretary,” Jeanette called, not bothering to look up from her computer as the secretary shut the door to her office, finally leaving him be. He eased himself into one of the visitor’s chairs, setting his bum leg up in the adjoining seat, sighing.
“She’s babying me.”
“It’s called being polite. You should try it sometime.” God, trust Jeanette to never take his shit. He snorted. “Lord, injury leave always puts you in such a mood. I’ve half a mind to assign you to Perrin for the duration and take advantage of his ability to keep you in line, but then I might lose a deputy.”
Arthur scowled. “You called me about a briefing?”
The Director shuffled through a stack of files, passing him a copy. “Yes, latest reports on the situation in Montreal and an update on that Pyrona business.”
“Ah. Yeah, S told me about it last night.” He flicked through the Montreal report, already considering which agent would be best suited for the joint operation now that he was out.
“Oh good, any chance you understood a word of what he said?” She waved a hand at the updated dossier, several pages thick and almost certainly filled with technobabble beyond either of their comprehension. He wondered idly if his handler had attempted to explain the finer points of ‘block chain on steroids’ to Jeanette.
“Got the gist. Whoever’s behind the financial hacks is laying encryption protocols to protect information on what they’re ordering without the knowledge of the companies involved, and a similar firewall prevented remote access to Oliveria’s financial ledgers. It’s hyper-advanced, impossible to crack without detection, and he refuses to entertain the idea that they’re stealing funds to build a death ray.”
Boothman pursed her lips. “I share his sentiments.”
“I’m telling you, one of these days—”
“No,” she concluded. “So, still a dead end there. Continue to wait and see it is.”
He sighed, rubbing at his left knee when his leg gave a brief spasm. “I really don’t have a great feeling about this.”
“Neither do I, but until they show their hand, there’s nothing to be done for it.” She shuffled to the Montreal case report. “Now then, onto business we can actually make headway on.”
---
Arthur saw himself out of the Director’s office around noon, at loose ends after a morning spent ironing out the details of the joint operation with the Canadian government. He briefly considered going home early, but being left alone to feel sorry for himself didn’t hold any appeal, especially with the weekend looming. The gym was out, body still too beat up even by his own admittedly low standards. He sighed, hitting the button for sub-floor two before slumping against the elevator railing. If he was going to be a glutton for punishment, he may as well go spend the afternoon trying to woo his unrelenting handler.
He limped his way to the operations bullpen, swiping his card for access, and came up short at the crowd milling around, wondering if there was an emergency. Every desk was full, technicians and junior staff officers swarming, all three shift managers present, and both department heads bent over the command desk computer speaking too quietly to be heard over the din. He made his way over to Syler, crowd parting to let him through and gawp in his wake. He fucking hated being
