Spin the Wheel

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: After the day he's had, Desmond needs to talk to his friends and to get a drink.  He'll figure out the order when he gets there.
Word Count: 1624
Rating: Teen

         “He’s late,” Shaun grouses into his drink.
         Rebecca tries and fails to hide her smile, because honestly that’s really kind of sweet of Shaun. He might go and accuse her of sentimentalism, but he’s practically gone completely mother hen mode when it comes to Desmond after that panic attack. “Come on, you know Desmond. He probably saw something cool and wandered off and got distracted and lost track of the time—that, or he’ll have a million questions when he shows up.” That thought makes a small smile break through Shaun’s worry. Because he enjoys that, a bloke he thinks is attractive hanging on his every word, coming to him like he’s the best expert in the world? It’s definitely going to his head, a bit.
         Which is when Desmond, with his dramatic sense of timing, practically collapses into their booth and steals Shaun’s beer and practically chugs it. Which is pretty much the whole glass, because the worrywart over there hadn’t actually been drinking much of his because he’d been too busy fretting. Shaun doesn’t even complain, but then, he’s probably taking in their new Dragon friend’s appearance and finding it absolutely alarming. Which he actually should, because, well, it’s bad.
         There’s blood, which is particularly bad because from everything they’d heard he hadn’t left London, so unless he joined in the fighting ring or something there shouldn’t be anything in London for him to fight. He looks absolutely exhausted. But then, maybe, more than anything, he’s actually frowning. This is the guy who takes everything with a smile and good humor. And the occasional bad joke.
         “Desmond, are you all right?” the historian demands, and Desmond blinks at them, taking a moment to actually follow along.
         Then he manages a laugh. A really, really small one. “Oh. It’s not mine. You’ll probably have to apologize to your bosses for me, though.”
         “Why?” Rebecca asks. She really, really doesn’t want to be the skeptical, wary one, but it’s not like Shaun’s going to do it.
         He groans and just kind of slumps in the booth. “I kinda let on that I knew I was being followed. Because one of the Templar Agents following me got shot.”
         Oh...okay, that hadn’t been in the calculations pretty much anywhere. It does kind of confirm her theory he’s more capable than he’s been letting on, but still. That’s stuff for the battlefields, not the middle of London.
         “I healed her, but I have no idea what I’m doing, and—I mean, sure, she’s a Bee, it wouldn’t have killed her, but still, I don’t—is it really fair to just let her suffer?” He’s rambling, a little, probably in shock, and Shaun fidgets like he wants to just take off his jacket and wrap it around the man like it’s bubble wrap and it’ll protect him somehow. He stops when their friend actually meets their eyes, not continuing to ramble but begging for an answer all the same. Shaun looks surprised and thoughtful, and yeah, it’s easy to get the impression someone’s not suffering if you don’t see it. It’d been easy to lose sight of that when so many Bees used to use death as just another way to get to an Anima well, before the various factions figured out how to tap into the Agartha Teleport devices for a more convenient (and, more to the point, less expensive) travel mechanism instead. It’s easy in this kind of war to get cynical, but she hopes Desmond keeps that possibly-naïve fire and willingness to fight for it. It’s refreshing, and honestly, there’s enough cynical assholes around. Desmond looks a little relieved when they shake their heads, if still not happy.
         “It’s messed up, yeah, but it’s easy to assume it’s not a big deal when so many Bees don’t treat it like one. Someone like you should absolutely have stepped in, and since we’re not in the middle of fighting for our lives here, they probably should’ve too, but people get in habits trying to stay alive. Your resources pretty much replenish themselves on their own, so it’d be easy enough for someone like you to do it without putting yourself in danger.” At his confused look, she shrugs. “They really told you nothing, huh. You basically get a pool for every weapon, but it replenishes quickly enough. That’s only Bees, though. Normal people have to tap into Anima the long, slow way, but you’ve got a direct line to the Anima Wells and Agartha itself.” That looks like it makes him recognize something, but he doesn’t share with the class.
         They’re distracted for a moment as static comes over the usual station, and they can hear the cursing come down the stairs as one of the employees wrestles with it. She’s still feeling a little dizzy from the excitement, Desmond most of all, but it’s not every day you get shot at. Even Shaun looks queasy.
         “Back up a bit—you said she got shot?” Shaun picks up his phone, doing his best to try to hide the tremble in his hands, squinting at the screen. Whatever trace of the alcohol are long gone. This is all just adrenaline and worry, and yeah, he’s in deep.
         Desmond nods, stretching his left hand and wincing. “Rifle, roughly, uh, Britain, meters...fifty meters, maybe? I ran after the guy, but he escaped into Agartha.”
         That’s...not good news, but then, none of this is.
         “You ran after a bloke with a gun,” Shaun states flatly, unimpressed, but then, he’s been worrying so much he’s missing the little signs Desmond actually is more competent than they both first evaluated. He’s done a lot of work to seem unassuming and like he doesn’t know fifty ways to kill a man, but yeah, Rebecca’s getting the idea Desmond Miles is a cinnamon roll that could kill you.
         She’s not warning Shaun, though. More than just the little guidebook project which is honestly really sweet of him, he’s also planning on sparring to make sure Desmond can take care of himself, and it’s funnier if he has no clue. Shaun getting surprised is generally really funny, particularly when the man insufferably seems to know everything, and the fact that Desmond keeps doing it and Shaun finds it hot every time is hilarious.
         “He’d holstered his weapon, so yeah, I ran after the guy with the gun, Shaun,” the Dragon grumbles. “But—listen, the fact that he could get into Agartha, that’s not good news, right?”
         “I,” Shaun announces with great dignity, “...will look into it.”
         Rebecca winks, and it’s enough to make their friend relax a little more even as he shakes his head at her.
         “...And Crane will help, I suppose.” He sounds grudging, but it’s more like he’s embarrassed because he forgot she existed completely. Arse over teakettle, or whatever.
         “It means he’s from one of the factions?” their new friend persists, and it’s clear the determination is throwing the historian for a loop. As it should. They hadn’t seen any sign of the gentle badass before. Well. Rebecca suspected, but that’s just because she’s better with people, and Shaun’s better with data, as long as it’s not written in maths. That’s her field.
         “Not the Orochi, I wouldn’t think. Pretty sure they haven’t gotten any Bees—or anyone into Agartha, thank goodness. Phoenicians, maybe, though we haven’t seen any obvious signs they’ve been operating for years. Like, the Council are still acting like they’re still in play, but we can’t verify that at all, and you know how good I am with my tech. Then again, Phoenicians are seriously old-school and paranoid beyond even the other Factions, so if there’s anything it’s probably a paper trail.” That gets his attention, apparently, even if he disguises it well by stretching casually. That’s probably enough to distract Shaun, if only because he’s seriously pining, but you can’t pull the wool over Rebecca Crane’s eyes, no ma’am.
         “Sounds like there’s a lot of players in the field,” he comments, still purposefully casual, and Hastings there puffs up.
         “You don’t know the half of it, really. There’s a reason we were put in charge of going through the data; it requires a great deal of work to keep track of half of the moves they’re all making,” he boasts. Sure, it’s absolutely true, but he’s also showing off.
         “But yeah, if it were us, it’s usually old school weapons and magic. There’s a few who specialize in guns, but modern weapons are more an Illuminati thing.” And then it occurs to her she’s not sure if he even knows how Bees normally fight. “If it’s the weapon thing that’s getting you, that’s normal enough. Bees can empower the weapons they use, so yeah, sometimes it’s guns and blades. Which also, yeah, can take off a zombie’s head. It’s pretty sweet.” Shaun’s staring at her as if she’s just rambling again until he notices Desmond nodding and following along, at which point the light dawns. And he looks even more worried.
         She is either watching or recording when their new friend does his thing, because it’s going to be awesome.
         “That’s not to say that it’s absolutely impossible it was a Templar, just that it’s less our style. There’s a lot—like us, actually—that are working to try to pull us into the modern day with inclusivity efforts and computers, but it’s a process,” she adds. “I’m putting equal odds on Lumies or Dragon, though the Phoenicians are in there somewhere as a wild card.” If they’ve left any kind of trail online, she’ll find it. And he’s not taking their word for it, but he’s taking it into consideration, which is, well. It’s appreciated.