"You want her to what," The bespectacled shopkeeper
blurts.
The blonde pinches his arm. Sharply, if the pained look on his face is
anything to go by. "Tim, hush, it's barely enough to repay the
kindness. Just look at her!"
Leslie realizes that she probably still looks horribly disheveled. A
hand self-
consciously begins smoothing down her hair.
"They were probably going to steal from here themselves in the
first place."
Agatha merrily wheezes behind her.
"If they wanted to, they wouldn't've come back." She
pinches him again, and twists this time. "Don't listen to him. It's the
least we can do! Pick out from anywhere in the shop, and it's yours."
Leslie's sight alights on the items they brought back, settled on the
counter. Her eye is caught, in particular, by a small orange glass bottle.
"Oh. Wow, you picked out one of the only magic bottles.
You have expertise in picking that out?"
The smile she has on is a wide and cheery and genuinely curious smile,
and it's what Leslie attributes her next words to. "Well, I'm trying to be
a seeker, and-"
She feels Agatha's hand on her shoulder, and feels the laugh that
comes with it too. "My granddaughter here's in training for it."
Well, technically, it's not a lie.
The shopkeeper is still beaming brightly, and her hand curls into a
finger gun. "Hey, so just natural talent?" She mimes shooting.
Leslie can't seem to shut her mouth. "Uh, no, I brought. Um, my
thing-"
Agatha, again, smoothly steps in, and Leslie now notices the quieter,
softer tone she's adopted. "You lent it to me, dearie. It's- oh!" The
device in her hand starts beeping sluggishly when it comes near to the bottle
in Leslie's. "It really is one of those magic things you're always looking
for!"
"Yeah, um, thanks. Um. Grandma." Leslie nods stiffly at the
device. "I think I'll leave it with you."
"Darn right you are. No more of this seeking thing for
today." Agatha tucks it back into her jacket, and continues grasping
Leslie by the shoulder. "Now, you wanna get back to lookin', dearie? Go
on. Find yourself something nice."
For some reason, while she's glad for the excuse to duck out of the
conversation she's done the social equivalent of accidentally baking a cake
with salt instead of sugar to, the tone Agatha is currently using makes it
sound much more like a slightly patronizing dismissal than it should. She nods,
unsure if she's directing it to the shopkeeper or Agatha, and returns to
slinking around between the things for sale.
Agatha's still in the front of the shop, chatting with the shopkeeper
hovers at the edge of her awareness, and the sound of voices in the shop washes
over her peacefully.
Then her awareness tunes back in to hear Tim speaking. "-come on,
Diana, what kind of nice little old lady has a motorcycle,"
Agatha laughs a light grandmotherly laugh. It is about a step
down from what Leslie thinks is her real laugh and an entire staircase down
from her usual cackle. "That's my old bike. I used to be quite the speed
demon back in my day! My granddaughter here is just indulging me with it for
today. Even if she's supposed to be driving. Whoops."
She drifts around, feigning casual interest. The table with the dice
on it looms closer.
"I remember when me and my wife used to take rides on that thing.
She was the one that was actually the 'sweet ride' nut, but she managed
to convince me that motorcycles at least were worth it. I had a very good
mustache back then."
"Must've been a shame to shave it off."
"It was. Wife hated it though, and I got real tired of it myself
after a while. I miss her a lot, I do."
Leslie's mind is split between keeping an ear with the conversation, 'okay,
there's a lot of sets I didn't notice earlier', the sounds the dice make
when she shakes a few in her cupped hands and 'RAINBOW DICE'. The sound
of the words lower again, and she chances a look at the counter.
Tim is doing much of the same thing as her; listening in on the
conversation, and keeping an eye on whatever Leslie is touching. The difference
is that he's not hiding it.
Then Agatha pipes up, and she can hear what's being said again.
"Say, do you know where I could find some places that sell old, or
second-hand rings? The more magical, the more ideal."
"For your granddaughter?"
Leslie tosses the set of dice in her hands, and feels something bright
and hot and delightful spark in her chest when each of the seven dice
turn a different solid color of the rainbow as they clatter across the
tabletop.
"Not really. She finds 'em enough by herself. My wife used to
collect 'em and I took up continuing the collection after she passed."
Diana obliges, and begins rattling off names of places. Leslie sees
Agatha doing nothing but nodding with each new named place and their given
location, and briefly wonders if she should pull out her notebook. She returns
to tossing the dice.
"You ever try regrowing that 'stache, ma'am?"
"Hah! M'not as capable of doing that as I used to be. Also, it'd
obscure my gorgeous face. Can't have that."
After an amount of time, the conversation dwindles somewhat. It's why
Leslie will assume they're not as startled as they should be when she hustles
to the counter with the rainbow dice in her hands.
She drops them on the counter, just to see them turn different colors
one last time. "How much for these," she asks, as she reaches for her
left boot.
If Diana is put off by the sight of her fishing in her boot while
standing on one leg and keeping eye contact the entire time, it doesn't show.
"Tim," She pinches Tim again as soon as his mouth opens.
"Tim, hush, the dice are from my collection, I'm
setting the prices- they're for five."
"Hey, wait, I thought they were for-"
"Five, and I'm not taking anything else for them."
Leslie knows that she's being nice. Just being nice. Her cheeks still
burn, and she can't make eye contact again as she pulls out change from her
money pouch.
The goodbye from Diana is warm, and the one from Tim is at least
relieved if not entirely nice.
As they walk to the door, Agatha has her hand on Leslie's shoulder
again and is speaking loudly as the exit approaches. "Dearie, if you'd
just indulge me about driving again, just one more time today, for old time's
sakes-"
------------------------------------------------------------------
(At a red light under the late-late afternoon, early-early evening sun
peeking out under clouds, Agatha reaches into a pocket, and pulls out something
unexpected. Leslie only realizes what it is when Agatha hoots and looks as
surprised as she is.
"You didn't." She says this more at the old amulet dangling
from Agatha's hand than the woman herself.
"I forgot I never actually put it down," Agatha
wheezes. "Okay, listen, it's better this way- I'm not advocating for
stealin' or nothin'," she adds when Leslie gapes at her. "But, it
just is. Safe hands, now."
Leslie lets the cocktail of indignance and horror stew without comment
as they start moving again.)
------------------------------------------------------------------
Agatha had tried insisting on her taking at least a second one.
"You need more than that."
"I'm fine. I don't eat much."
"Well. Fine. We're not going to always be able to fix this issue,
but if you get hungry later tonight, then for god's sake, tell me. We
need to get you used to eating more."
The bench they took is close enough to the food vendor they'd bought
from that his voice is still audible. The park is beginning to darken, and the
streetlights on the road are turning on, and most of the passerby are on their
way leaving.
After they'd sat down, before they'd began on their food, Agatha had
pulled out her phone, frowned at it, and did something Leslie couldn't see with
it before returning it.
Leslie has four bites out of her hot dog, and Agatha is on her second
out of three when the phone rings.
She downs the last third of her hot dog without somehow choking and
takes the call. A moment after holding it to her ear, her face scrunches. She pulls it
away, presses something on the phone, and holds it in front of her.
The faint whooshing noises tickle something in her memory.
Then a voice. "Agatha?"
Agatha's face scrunches even more in something that looks like vague
outrage, then unscrunches into milder vague outrage. When she speaks into the
phone, her voice is a bit too loud for an emptying park in the evening.
"Sid, you slicked asshole, you told me you settled! A wife
and a kid!"
"I did!"
"Then the hell's that I'm hearing?"
"Me reaching the station."
"... Train?"
"Yep."
Agatha gently places the phone on her knee to clasp both her hands
together in front of her pinched expression. She sighs out exactly one breath
before responding. "Sid, what the hell, you said you were going to give me
an answer, not -- wait." She stops and straightens up. "Wait. Where are
you going. Where did you say you lived again?"
"I never told you where I lived, Agatha. I called because your
message right just now made me remember that I still haven't actually told you
I'm on the way yet."
"You just remem- wait, which line are you on?"
"Not telling you the destination, but it's a three hour ride."
"You've been on your way for three hours. Sid."
"I was in a rush. Wasn't that what you wanted?"
"I called you, what, six or seven hours ago? That's fuckin' fast
you loon."
"I've done faster with less to work with. Now, normally, I'd
be able to get there in under a day and a half, but if the train lines are
closed like you say, then it's going to take me an extra day."
"Uh," Leslie begins. "What does he mean by an extra
day?"
"Who's that?"
Agatha seems to recall at the same time as Leslie that speakerphone
meant that she was also capable of being heard.
There's a moment of silence, and Leslie feels death creep a little
closer.
"Oh, are you the kid Agatha told me about? Hello!"
Agatha briefly swipes at her nose to recover. "You're not even
surprised you're on speaker?" she grumbles.
"I can hear a food vendor behind you. It's not exactly a
mystery. Now, I'm going to be getting off soon, so I'll introduce myself
properly once I actually meet you. Okay?"
A brief pause. Leslie realizes that he'd been waiting for a response
after he continues.
"Either way, it's going to take me an extra day for going the
distance on foot. There's an amount of wilderness."
Leslie feels her mouth hanging open as she quickly checks Agatha's
face to see if there was a joke she's missing. "You're going to walk?"
"That's the idea. So, two and a half days. I'll most likely
meet you in the afternoon day after the day after the next if my route goes
according to plan. I'll tell you where to find me then."
"So you decide what you want in return yet or..." Agatha
shrugs, even though she's speaking into a phone. "'Cause I do have a nice
item we found earlier. You're a chemistry nerd, ain't you? You'd like it."
Leslie remembers the bottle still in her pocket. Something small and
plaintive stirs in her chest.
"Interesting! But, no, I already have an idea. You said in
your message now that you had a way of opening seals?"
Agatha takes a look at Leslie, sees the baffled expression on her face
and looks away, rubbing at the back of her neck. "... It probably ain't
infallible, but yeah. Why?"
"There's a locked area a little way off the passage we're
taking. Never found out what was inside. But I DO have strong reason to believe
there's a cache of books in there."
"... Old books. Really now."
"Mmhm. There's also a fair chance of there being rare items
hidden in there; it'd be in both our best interests to find out what's behind
the seal."
"Oh, and you don't want the assorted cool things
too?"
A snort. "I'll let you know if I call dibs on anything while
we're in there. For now, I'm only interested in any tomes we might find."
Leslie notices Agatha glance sideways at her. She's not sure what was
on her own face.
Whatever it may be, Agatha briefly ducks her head and exhales loudly.
"And if we can't get the seal open? What then."
"I'll just take you up on that 'later favor' you were
offering. It's not that-" Some noises."-large a deal, really,"
"Oi, Sid. What was that sound just now?"
"I'm moving. The next train I'm taking's in ten minutes."
"Boarding in ten minutes?"
"Uhh, no, leaving in ten minutes."
"You-" Agatha stares at the phone in disbelief, and Leslie,
for a brief moment, believes that if there was one expression that was capable
of being registered through a sound-only medium, it would the one she's wearing
right now. "Get MOVING then, you goon! My god, it's like you have
sense in that noggin of yours, you frank little upstart."
The response she recieves is laughs, and the sounds of a busy station. "Fair
enough! Take care, and hang tight. I'll be seeing you."
The call ends.
Agatha is still in the middle of shaking her head at the phone in her
hand when she notices that Leslie is holding the bottle they found in her
hands, in the middle of turning it over.
Leslie recalls the square foot of concrete they'd accidentally set on
fire testing out if the bottle's reported abilities were true. Agatha had spent
the better part of ten minutes stamping it out, laboring under the logic that
she had poured out the liquid and tried a match to it on impulse, therefore
making it her responsibility.
"You like it?"
Leslie turns it over one more time before sandwiching it between both
her hands. "I'm, uh. I'm a little glad we don't have to give it
away," she admits sheepishly.
"But. Just wondering. What's it
called?"
Agatha shrugs, and starts on her most likely cold third hot dog. "Doesn't
have one. Hasn't been added to the database yet; that was the point of
collecting it."
(Leslie feels her spine straighten at the mention of a database, and
the low burn of shame that follows. The burn of shame flares stronger in tandem
with the relief following the realization that Agatha didn't notice.)
"The rules are that if it don't have a name yet, then the one
that found it gets to give it one." Agatha turns to Leslie, and gives her
an appraising look. "So? What're you gonna call it?"
Her spine straightens again, with a different feeling attached this
time. "Me?"
"Well, yeah."
Agatha nods, and while her smile is around a mouthful of hot dog,
Leslie still appreciates the gesture.
"Don't look so surprised, Les. You're the one that went and got it;
it's your right to." Agatha pauses to take a thoughtful bite.
"And 'course, since it ain't a high level item either, it means you get to
keep it."
"Really?"
"Really, sugar. That's how most seekers build up their
tool set; they collect things they're qualified to keep and use. Remind me to
educate you a little more about ownership rules and standards another time. Now
get to thinking." Agatha pauses, and brandishes the last bite of her hot
dog at her. "Please don't give it a stupid name. You've filled your stupid
quota for the day. Kindly don't outdo me on this fine evening."
The rest of the hour is spent on the same bench, Agatha watching the
stars fill in, and Leslie slowly finishing the rest of her hot dog. The quiet
is occasionally broken with Leslie asking Agatha for names of explosive
substances.
It's as they're renting a room to spend for a few nights Agatha asks.
"So what're you calling it?"
Leslie still has the bottle in her hands. She holds it up to the light
and admires how it shines and bends through the tinted glass. "I'm calling
it the Napalm Flask."
"A'ight. Good. Creative. Informative! You didn't call it a thing
of a thing, so extra points to you. Good first timer name."
Leslie feels a question tickle the front of her thoughts and lowers
the bottle. "... What was the first name you ever gave?"
Agatha snorts, and runs a hand through the curls at the back of her
head. "S'been a long time. But, uh,"She rolls up a sleeve a few inches to show leather covering her
forearm. "... Called 'em Clawed Wolfsbane Bracers. Still useable for
things other than nostalgia, even by now. I'll tell you more 'bout how I found
'em after we get a room, if you want."
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