Therese's Meetings After Office Hours

As the clock on my office wall ticks over to five in the afternoon, I stand up out of my chair. Office hours for today are officially concluded. Gathering the papers I have to grade into my bag, I pour myself a flask of bourbon for the road before walking out of the office and locking the door behind me. Irene is waiting for me at the door to the stairwell. “Hey, Therese,” she says with a grin.

I shake my head. “What is it?” Irene wants something. If she doesn’t, she waits for me by the bar, or in my neighborhood. She’s one of the few people who’s tracked me down. This means either she wants something urgently, or she knows about my plans and wants to involve herself.

“We’ll talk more outside, but I just wanted to be sure that I didn’t miss my favorite friend,” she says with a smile. So it’s the latter. Less than ideal. William isn’t as good at keeping secrets as I am. And while I trust Irene wholeheartedly and do like her, there are some things better kept away from the ears of the Magisterium. Especially after what happened last year with the Mythic attacking the Basilica.

As we walk down the stairs, I hear the door to the fourth floor above open once more, and rushing down the stairs is Keighley. “Fuck, Magister Scott, sorry I’m running late, Maestro Matthiassen held us late with his rambling lecture today.”

I sigh. “That is too bad, Apprentice Atkins. I will see you on Monday, presuming you are running late for my office hours for some reason?”

“It shouldn’t take that long,” she insists, “I was just wondering about the Man100 assignment.”

I continue down the stairs.

Irene looks up at my advisee. “She’s not going to answer you, she’s already gone. What’s your question?”

“Not talking to you, asshole,” Keighley counters. “I was just wondering, Magister Scott, how detailed our documentation should be.”

I continue to ignore her as I head down the stairs. The assignment is self explanatory, and the detail of documentation, while interesting to me personally, has nothing to do with my assessment of their grades.

“Told you, she’s not here,” Irene continues answering for me, “But my bet is, the more details you provide the more she’ll get invested. Don’t know the assignment, but she likes knowing things.”

Keighley storms past us and out, not acknowledging Irene beyond an upset groan. I shake my head once more. “I do not appreciate you teaching my advisees bad habits.”

“What, are you saying I was wrong?”

I look over at Irene, cold and calm. “I am saying that the Magisterium has a tendency to excuse time management issues in its Apprentices, then expect its Magisters to have that field mastered.”

Irene shakes her head as we finish descending the stairs and head into the lobby. She adds, “And why does she hate me?”

I look over at her. She should know this. Or at least be able to figure it out. “Why do you think?” I ask as we step outside.

While I head over to the tree sticking out of the sidewalk to retrieve my burner, she begins to work it out. “We’ve never met before,” Irene begins, “At least not that I remember. That means I couldn’t have slept with her. I remember all of those. But that anger, it was definitely personal. Not professional. Besides, she doesn’t hold herself like Magisterbabies do.” Irene pauses. “But, knowing me, I might’ve enjoyed time with someone she cares about.” Her eyes start darting around as I reach into the tree’s roots. “I don’t remember her hanging around any of the guys or gals here, which means it’s an ex.” I pull the phone out and return to Irene’s side as she nods and says, “So, whose ex is she?”

“You seem out of practice,” I reply without answering. Keeping the burner in my pocket, I text William something close enough to the truth to work. ‘tail. late. sry’

Irene shakes her head as we start to walk down the street. “It’s your fault,” she replies, “You put Fadila in charge over me last year. I’m still working off the rust. Now who?”

I give her a look with just the subtlest hint of a smirk on it. I don’t need to force it to be evident, not for Irene. She’s one of the few people who has no trouble telling my emotions. Especially my smugness.

Seeing my smirk, she instantly says, “Oh, god, it’s Val, isn’t it?” I nod. She continues. “Shit. I should probably talk to her. Explain the situation and whatnot.”

That is a bad idea. “When she’s upset, she heads to the theater, breaks in and watches rehearsals. She’ll be there now.”

Irene cocks her eyebrow at me. She knows it’s a bad idea, too. “You’re just trying to get rid of me,” she says. “You’ve got your secret meeting and you don’t want me involved.”

“Yes,” I answer her honestly.

She shakes her head. “Why?” she asks, adding, “Answer me that and I’ll go chat with your advisee about our mutual ex.”

I sigh. Might as well be honest. With friends, honesty is always useful. Almost as useful as withholding truths that it is best they don’t know. “There are many complicated moving parts to this Grande play at the moment. And I do not want to put you in the position of keeping some parts of this performance to come secret from your bosses. And I do not want to tip my hand to the other playwrights as they are not particularly trustworthy.”

She sighs, nods, and replies, “Fine. But I expect a report on anything non-treason-adjacent.”

I give her a thin smile and say right back. “As do I.”

“Fuck you,” she spits out.

I shake my head. “No thanks. We are both quite busy this evening.” Irene chuckles as she peels off to head for the theater. I hang a left abruptly and head towards the church. I head in, ostensibly to pray. I sit down in one of the pews on the balcony. All that is left is to wait, keeping my head down like I am in deep contemplation. Once no one has eyes on me, I peel off, slipping through the wall panel and up into the tower.

William is relaxing, looking like he has just recently awoken and is upset by the sun still being in the sky. He notices my quiet entry. “Lose the tail?” he asks. So he read my text.

“It found somewhere more interesting to be,” I reply.

He waits for more details, but finds none. Because, as much as I don’t want Irene, or most of my network for that matter, knowing about this world yet, I most certainly am not going to give William any details on my network. Finally, after a moment of silence and staring, he relents. “Alright, I’ve got you a meeting with the stunning Lauma. Six thirty. Meet with her at the Memorial Plaza. She knows much and has some questions.”

“How well should I answer?” I half joke, keeping my face entirely serious.

He shrugs. “She is one of the dabblers among the Game. You know how I feel about that sort. But, unlike some I know, she is not going to kidnap and torture you.”

I nod. “And what will you be doing, while I chat with your friend?” I ask.

He smirks. “She’s not my friend,” he insists. He’s conflicted about that. Interesting. I nod politely and raise an eyebrow, as though to reiterate my question. He sighs. “Belle Meade has smelled our new guests, and I need to reassure them.”

I sit down by the window and smile slightly, clear enough that he can see if he’s looking. “Do tell Miss Bradford that I am sorry I couldn’t make it this evening.”

William laughs. “I’m sure she’ll just be torn up inside.” He shakes his head, before adding, “You do know you’re a terrible person, right?” He’s likely referring to his belief that she’s attracted to me and I am leading her on. Neither is true, but he believes them to be, and it serves to humanize me more to him than the truth would, so I do not correct his belief.

“Yes,” I say blankly. He shakes his head. I move back to the matter at hand, “Anything else I need to know before meeting with this Lauma individual?”

“Her faction is small, but well-respected historically. Dedicated to ending the influence of the sun over our kind. Or ending the sun, depending upon who you ask. Anything I need to know about your tail?”

I give him a subtle shrug. “Nothing more than I’ve already offered up.”

“So you know a lot more about it,” he replies, “Is it our friends down south?”

“No. It’s from my side of the mystic. Essentially.”

“Someone who disagrees with your schemes?”

I let out a single chuckle. “No, entities that wish to understand them.”

William shakes his head. And how much do these entities actually know?” he presses. He gets nervous around people knowing he exists. I suspect it has something to do with his history. But I have yet to confirm much of said history.

“Just enough to think they know what to look for,” I reply.

He finishes my thought with a sigh. “But not enough to look for what they really want. You know, you’re as bad as the schemers in the Game sometimes.”

I give him a nod as I relax in the belltower. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I check the time. Fifteen minutes until sundown, when William will be heading out. Another twenty before I should head out to scout the Plaza. “Anything else you want to talk about?” I ask, mostly to be polite.

“Not particularly,” he replies, as he starts to get up and stretch.

I nod. And we both try to relax prior to our meetings, in spite of the other. After sundown, William makes his way out of the belltower, to his meeting. And I wait, watching the people start to leave their jobs in the legislators and office buildings. People I recognize from my schemes. Others I do not. I fix my clothes, making sure they are suitable to a meeting of this level of import. They’re too wrinkled. My only other set here is the incognito clothes in my bag. Sends a different impression, but not necessarily a bad one. Moving out of view of the windows, I quickly change into the tight jeans and top with a heavy but unremarkable winter coat over it all. I look like about a third of the college students walking around town at this hour.

I wait as more people head out. If my timing is correct, there is a lull coming in six minutes. Stuffing my old clothes into my bag, I head down the stairs and listen through the false wall. No one seems to be on the balcony. I slide back into the pews, head down. And there, I wait for someone present who didn’t watch me come in to start paying attention as I head out.

Out on the street during a lull, I head towards the old government buildings. Not to head to the Plaza quite yet, but to walk around the area once, scouting the plaza. As I start the walk, I notice someone that should not be here in Victory Park. I cross the street and sit down next to Olivia Mascone. “You shouldn’t be here,” I inform her.

“I know,” she says. “This meeting you were talking about, is it to do with Maestro Gomez?”

“You were listening? I do apologize. And no.”

Miss Mascone shakes her head. “Thanks for the apology. Does not fix my ears. So what’s it about?”

“Truth?” I reply, then wait. She nods, so I answer honestly, “Something that you do not want to know. There are many things in my discussions that if others find out that you know, they will kill you.”

“They will?” she replies, “What about you?”

I smile thinly, though I doubt she would notice. “I would never kill an asset,” I answer her, “And the fact that you could spy on me and my friend there without either of us noticing just proves to me how useful an asset you could be. If you let me point you in more valuable directions.”