Azkadellia's Okay! Part 5: Countries Massacred; Restaurant Warned.
AUTHORS: andrealyn and luchia13
TITLE: Azkadellia's Okay! (With Ambrose and the Cains' help), Part 5: Countries Massacred; Restaurant Warned.
RATING: PG-13.
EVENTUAL PAIRING: Ambrose/Cain (or Cain/Ambrose, whatever), VERY FUTURE Az/OC, Jeb/OC/OC
DESCRIPTION: When the Witch picks another target, everything changes. Including switching out the Roboparents for Ambrose and the only Tin Man who knows what's going on (and his kid).
This Part: Azkadellia goes godzilla. The police get a pet. Cain is arguably sane, and Jeb is apparently Not Appearing In This Part. Oops?
Part 1: Things Explode; Iceland Blamed.
Part 2: Pink House Purchased; Introductions Ensue.
Part 3: Fight In Classroom; Landslide Victory.
Part 4: Cain Doesn't Move; Children Scream.
Azkadellia's Okay!
(With Ambrose and the Cains' help)
Part 5: Countries Massacred; Restaurant Warned.
With Azkadellia nearly finished with middle school, it meant that she had to take the next step and be enrolled in a high school. They had the various choices from the public school to the private one and there was the Catholic one, which Cain wasn't exactly sure he wanted for Azkadellia seeing as none of them were very religious. Seeing as he wasn't about to make any decisions on his own, he'd dropped by the college campus to pick up Ambrose after making a reservation at the nearest restaurant -- seeing as they only had an hour between the two of them.
At noon on the dot, Cain was by Ambrose's office, knocking lightly on the door as he checked his back pocket for his wallet. "Ambrose, you ready? I'm due back at one for a meeting, so there's no dallying today," he insisted, forcing a smile at some of the passing students and ignoring the mild comments about how he was 'the guy who flipped out during Professor Brown's class' and more of the same.
Besides, Cain never much cared for what other people thought. So long as he was fitting in, things weren't to be panicked over. He leaned idly back against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his torso and tipping his hat low over his face as he just waited patiently for Ambrose to make his way out.
Ambrose's office was tiny and a mess. He had a bookshelf and a desk and everything, sure, but considering he'd bought every book in the bookstore (and gone through most of them by now), the room was overflowing. Everywhere, books were strewn about, practically making a tunnel between the door and the desk. Ambrose grabbed his briefcase and opened the door, sighing, and hopefully closing it before Cain could see inside.
"I'm ready," he breathed out. Today had been incredibly hectic as he prepared his class for the onslaught that would be Azkadellia as best he could, wanting to give them at least a fighting chance. He locked the door behind him, flipping the Yes, we're open! sign that Jane had given him to the Sorry, we're closed! side in the process. "I just had thirteen students in here getting help on their countries, and that's not dallying. That's doing my job. My very, very erratically time-consuming job. But I'm here now, sorry for holding you up, let's go."
Cain tipped the hat back up and checked his gun in the holster as he made the way out, digging out keys and jingling them around. "You get to inaugurate the new thing. I even took lessons and listened to someone, which ought to count as a miracle, far as I'm concerned." The truck had been sitting around the parking lot of the dealership until Cain had time to pick it up and that had only been that day.
Instead, he just held the front door for Ambrose, nodding to the pale-blue brand-new truck in the lot.
"You listened to someone without being tied to something?" Ambrose grinned at him. "Wow, that is a miracle. Either that or you really wanted this truck." He paused, looking it over, and glanced at Cain. "Does this mean we're actually using the car hold for a car, or are you two going to share?" He paused, coughing slightly into his empty hand. "And I could maybe, ah. Enhance it a bit. If you wanted." He nearly reached to open the hood, but restrained himself, laughing lightly.
"I'm working on an overhang, don't you worry about me," Cain promised, giving Ambrose an extremely wary look that was two parts 'don't-touch-my-new-baby' and two parts 'what-exactly-would-you-do?' Cain had never needed much room beyond the desk and bed, but he still thought the truck deserved its own space, almost like it was a person.
"It just seems sort of strange, having a car hold, and a car, and not holding the car inside a place built and named to do it," Ambrose said, smirking slightly at the look (he knew it well, thanks to Ahamo and his hot air balloon) but being nice enough to not tease Cain about it. "But anyway, Azkadellia."
"I uh, got us reservations at that little Italian place with the green tablecloths and the daffodils," Cain said, snapping his fingers as if trying to recall something, but he never did say the name.
Still smiling, Ambrose patted the briefcase. "I've got all the school information and paperwork with me. And good choice on the restaurant, that's where they have the really good breadsticks, isn't it? An hour might be tough, but we can do it." Or, more specifically, Ambrose could. He had a bad habit of eating slowly and precisely if he forgot there wasn't a Queen or someone else he had to impress on the other side of the table. Luckily, Ambrose rarely tried to impress Cain.
Cain unlocked the doors, heading to the passenger side first to shift the box sitting in the seat to the back, tossing the red bow to the side. That pungent new-car smell was the first thing that assaulted him and made Cain look that shade of proud again, the one where he was earning money and living like a normal Othersider would.
He gestured, holding out a hand for Ambrose to use in case he needed the help getting up the distance. "I brought a couple papers too. Mostly some lists and comparisons," he admitted. "And yeah, this is the place with the breadsticks. I put in a call to warn them you were coming."
And he wasn't joking about that either.
He didn't need the help getting in the truck, but he took the hand anyway, even though it was mostly to get a look at the box. Ambrose only got enough of a glance to get the fact that it was Jeb's birthday present, and decided to leave it as a mystery until the day. "Well, that's good," Ambrose said. "I have the more extensive information, you have cross-referencing materials, we should be able to figure something out since we're this prepared."
Ambrose did, however, pause at the restaurant quip. Admittedly it had been a good thing for him to do, but Cain made it sound like he was some dish-breaking monster or something.
So he turned his head away from the other man to hide a grin. "You know, Cain, with a truck this big, someone could think you're trying to compensate for something."
Cain rolled his eyes as he got in, slamming the door with him and getting the engine going while he gave Ambrose a withering look. "Or it could just be practical given I'll be toting back supplies for the horse, bikes for the kids--" Which was what was in the box for Jeb. "--and good for towing?" Gods forbid, however, he get away with anything without catching flack. He made sure his seatbelt was tightly fastened and glanced to see Ambrose was well-protected as he started their way there.
Ambrose paused, and then smiled a bit deviously. "Well, at least you didn't get a red truck. Then I really would be worried."
Cain steadfastly ignored all comments about the color of his new truck. "Really, the choice of schools is down to two, as far as I see it," he started in on the business side of things immediately. "We either go public or private and the choice is most heavily influenced by which is better to mould her into the woman she needs to be when we go back."
Business was business, and the only thing he was more serious about than Azkadellia's upbringing was Azkadellia's safety, and they seemed to be doing pretty well in the safety department. So far, at least. "Most of the friends she's made in middle school will be going into public, and while private has a more intensive curriculum, public could possibly force her into less time learning and more in...you know." He shrugged, sighing slightly. "Social activities."
He would never, ever stop worrying about Azkadellia's social well-being. Ambrose had seen far too many intelligent people be nothing but intelligent, and he sometimes even wondered if he himself fell into that category. But that wasn't the issue here, the issue was private or public school for the princess of the O.Z.
It wasn't a long drive to get to the restaurant and by the time Ambrose was done with his talking, Cain had found them a space (checking his watch constantly for time) and was already on his way out, thinking of the basic argument it boiled down to.
Either they sent her to private, where her education could blossom and she would have some of the best book-smarts a girl could ever ask for or they could send her into public and let her flourish in a social capacity. Which might even eventually mean boys, a thought that caused Cain to clench his jaw. Nonetheless, he had to give his opinion and after he'd locked the truck, he was already leading Ambrose to a waiting table. "Well, Jeb's going into public school, there's no question. But he isn't going to be..." Cain took a look around them while folding a napkin in his lap. "Well, he won't ever have the responsibilities that she does."
Because Cain had called, salad and breadsticks had been set on the table for arrival, making sure that the hour deadline would see no danger of being missed.
As soon as they sat, Ambrose had the briefcase open and pulled out a small stack of papers, handing them over and draping the napkin in his lap, only to stop and shake his head, reminding himself he didn't have to eat like he was staring at royalty. So the fork was out, the dressing was on, and he started eating, forcing himself to just stick to the task and conversation.
"Sorry to burst any sort of bubble you had, Cain, but with the connection Jeb will have to a pri...to Azkadellia, he'll have a rather high level of influence, whether he wants it or not. Or if you want it or not - you're stuck too," he said, and then forced himself to not wait for Cain. He took another bite of salad. They had an hour to decide Azkadellia's schooling, and he couldn't waste it.
Cain hadn’t requested any fancy additions to the lunch. He'd just ordered a couple bowls of pasta the moment the waiter came by and from there, he could just focus on the paperwork, sipping his water as he curiously studied every paper in the stack. "Well, regardless, that's not for a while yet," he pointed out, sounding distant and distracted as he gave all his focus to the papers at hand.
"Now, she's brilliant, and she has plenty of friends at school already. She and Karen are best friends, and I feel bad about it but I already said Azkadellia couldn't go over to her friends’ for a sleepover. Luckily it was more a suggestion than anything else. She has straight A's, no club activities, and every time I see her go into school she's got just...a gaggle of friends around her." Ambrose took a bite out of a breadstick, and just couldn't help himself. He sighed, staring at the thing as it rested on his plate and he chewed. "Gods, those breadsticks are good. I really should try to get the recipe some time. Is it the seasoning? The dough?" He chuckled, face moving into a goofy-looking smile, and he took another bite, waiting for Cain's input on the situation.
Cain looked up just in time to see Ambrose rhapsodizing about the breadstick and in time to catch that smile and he froze for a moment, having to compose himself as he set all the papers down and took out his own - simple, yet ably paperclipped. "Here's what I've been thinking. Hear me out," he said, handing over the public school profile. "I can drop by and start an initiative, a Community Safety thing. That way I can check up on her,” he suggested, leaning over to steal a couple of breadsticks from Ambrose's plate so they wouldn't vanish completely before he got a chance to get to them.
And Ambrose just kept smiling. Cain had ordered his favorite, even. The man was almost disturbingly on top of things. He was tempted to smack Cain's hand when he went for the breadsticks, but being possessive of food, no matter how good, was just a bit too strange for even him. He nodded, looking through the concise and orderly paperwork. "Good idea. We're going to have to look after her a bit more in a bigger setting, after all. There's three middle schools that feed into either one. Even a legal guardian has some trouble getting in."
Cain leaned back in his chair and almost looked like he was sprawled out over it as he took a large bite of the breadstick, listening carefully to Ambrose. "Do you have legal guardianship?" he asked. "I never did ask or look into it. I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt."
"...yes and no," Ambrose admitted, blushing slightly and leaning over to practically whisper. "I spent the first day in town doing nothing but forging documents. I kind of had to, considering every document I did bring would be useless. I don't regret it or anything, but...well." He leaned back, shrugging, only to brighten when the plates showed up. "On record I do, and I guess that's all that matters."
Cain's fingers had been going for his glass of water when Ambrose leaned over, which caused a collision course of fingers-on-cheek that he hadn't meant to do and he grimaced his way through a tense apology at the contact. "No, it's good," Cain insisted. "Besides, the worst case scenario is that it's me who has the final say in something police-related, so we might get accused of favoritism, but we're fine."
Ambrose honestly didn't even really notice the contact, the incident tossed aside as soon as he got the apology. "I wouldn't worry," Ambrose added, smiling. "I'm pretty good at it. I'm honestly tempted to have you look at the paperwork and try to tell it's fake."
"My paperwork is pretty fake too," he pointed out, seeing as he couldn't put 'Central City' as the place of birth for himself on a certificate and the ‘Cain Home’ for Jeb's birthplace, as conducted by a midwife, seeing as that was probably frowned upon. "I usually just use my personal charm when it comes to passing them off," he joked in a deadpan.
"Not your badge and cunning?" Ambrose grinned. "I'm almost disappointed. It'd be like one of those thriller novels but...well. Less thrilling."
"Just a little of the badge and cunning," he agreed, grinning right back, checking his watch to make sure that they were doing fine on time. “I was also thinking, you maybe should encourage her to run for student government," Cain said while he rearranged the stolen breadsticks on his plate.
At the mention of getting her to run for government, Ambrose smiled softly. "Cain, you know she'd be mayor by twenty-three if I did that, right?" He shook his head. "It'd be excellent practice, but this is a democracy, and that means it's run much, much differently than a...well." He shrugged. "A Queendom, I guess. Still might be a good idea, though."
Cain scoffed and smiled to himself at the mention of Azkadellia being mayor. "She'd be a good mayor," he pointed out, finishing his water and moving the papers when the plates arrived. "Would it be so terrible if she could bring new aspects of government back with her?" he asked, pitching his voice quieter. "Gods forbid we change at all."
Ambrose ate, and made sure he ate in an efficient kind of way, almost stupidly determined to meet that hour deadline of Cain's. "And yes, she'd be a good mayor and I'm highly tempted to suggest a republic-based governing system when we get back. I'm not going to suggest it though, considering the traditions we've had for, oh, at least two hundred years. And since every system of government has its flaws..." Ambrose paused, and looked at Cain. "Wait, you were there for that class." He shook his head, smiling. "I'm not giving the lecture again, then. If you were paying any attention you already know what I'm saying."
Cain poked at his food in a very neat way, eating compactly and orderly and very precisely, not once staining his shirt. He also had yet to take off his hat.
"I wouldn't forget," he assured wryly with a fond grin on his lips. "I don't think I could forget any of your lectures, even if I was never the scholarly type." Half-done all his food (all his plates were divided by half), he abandoned the food and turned his attention back to the paperwork, flipping it back and forth before grabbing his pen from his shirt pocket and starting to fill in the necessary information. He wasn't even checking any cards in his wallet or verifying with Ambrose. By now, it was memorized.
Ambrose ended up grinning at Cain for the compliment. The man probably knew at least a bit of how hard Ambrose tried to be a good teacher, but hearing someone say it was reassuring. "Thanks, Cain." He cleared his throat, looking at the papers. "So, one more time. Private or public?"
He handed back the nearly completed forms, tapping the bottom where it required a signature. "Here. Sign this. Oh, and public," Cain added after the fact, seeing as the form was already done.
He nodded at the forms. "I figured public," he agreed, and just held out a hand for a pen while he read the fine print. Literally.
Cain leaned the pen over and pressed it to the waiting palm, glad that they'd managed to agree and had done it without a fight. The thought occurred to Cain, but he blinked it away after a quiet moment of shock, signaling the waiter over to package things up to take back to work and when he was there, Cain dug out cash enough for the meal and paid, all while Ambrose was still reading the fine print.
Ambrose signed his name with a flourish, and like always, while 'Ambrose' was in beautiful, practiced script, the 'Brown' tacked onto it was smaller and less precise. "Done," he proclaimed proudly, and handed the pen back to Cain. He smiled at Cain. "You still have any time?" Honestly Ambrose was anxious to see how he'd done in the time department, but he really was concerned about Cain getting to his meeting on time.
Cain took the papers back in hand and glanced them over with a very steady eye, making sure everything was in place and he gave a nod to confirm that they were, in fact, really done. A check to his watch as he took the leftovers in hand answered Ambrose's question. "Eighteen minutes left," he agreed with a smile. "How about that, not bad, right?"
"I'm genuinely impressed," Ambrose agreed, handing the pen back with a grin. "Apparently I really can eat like a normal person if I put my mind to it. Any more paperwork? I thought that was the last of it, but you never know with schools."
For some reason, Ambrose actually didn't want to leave just yet, and it probably showed. Talking to Cain instead of talking at him was actually pretty nice.
Cain pushed the paperwork into Ambrose's briefcase, which meant getting up and sliding them in, unasked, still watching the time. "Not unless you want to do Jeb's now, but we're about five annuals too early." Five annuals until he hit 'middle school', sounded just about right for Cain, seeing as he wasn't ready just yet to deal with the thought of his son growing up that fast.
Ambrose smiled at the mention of Jeb's schooling, though, heading out with Cain. "Want to hear a terrifying thought? By then, Azkadellia will be in college."
"Gods, I don't need to think about that," Cain warned Ambrose. "It's bad enough thinking of my boy hitting puberty. Az at college with all those boys around..." He let that distinctly unpleasant thought trail off. "C'mon, I'll drop you back off on campus."
Ambrose frowned, but stood up. "Did you pay? I was going to at least pay for my part." He shrugged, and figured he could just use it as another excuse for Why Wyatt Cain Can't Pay Rent.
Cain held out his wallet and just tapped it twice with two fingers to indicate that he'd paid, yes. As for the Rent, while Ambrose didn't exactly know it, the majority of Cain's salary had been deviated to two accounts. One marked for college for Azkadellia and one for Jeb. With all this 'interest' out there, he'd have them paid for and more by the time they got there (even if by the calculations Cain made, Jeb would only fulfill one year of college before they went back). There wouldn’t be a need for residence fees, after all, as Cain had decided for the kids that they’d be living at home for security reasons.
Ambrose grinned when they got to the truck. "Actually, she's smart enough to stay away from anything serious with boys. Condoms or not, a princess can't afford a child out of wedlock, for the child's sake alone. So I'm more worried about the girls." He paused. "Well, unless she doesn't like girls. Then I'll just be worried about whose knuckles I have to break and all that stuff."
It would probably have disturbed people to know how completely serious Ambrose was, but he had a feeling Cain would be in complete agreement. After all, they were both dedicated to Azkadellia's safety.
"I dunno," Cain replied, opening the door for Ambrose as he rounded to the driver's side. "Might be hard to break their knuckles when they're already in the hospital with a gunshot wound." Dead serious, he was, but with just a hint of humor lurking around his tone.
Ambrose climbed in with a chuckle. "Just shoot low, Cain. Then we can manage."
"Anything you say," Cain agreed and hid his pleased smile at the turn of the conversation. He took a longer route back to the school, but when the clock started to wind up to 1PM, he knew he couldn't dawdle any longer and pulled up in front of the building containing Ambrose's office and he managed a tight smile, trying not to look too upset about the fact lunch was over. "I'll see you at home tonight, then," he said in lieu of any remarks about the lunch.
"Have a good meeting," Ambrose nodded, and paused, hesitating a bit. He felt like he should say 'this was nice' or 'we should do this again some time' or something, but he just smiled and patted the truck on the side, getting out. "Don't speed, or you'll have to arrest yourself."
Cain leaned over to help pull the door back in, grinning right back at Ambrose. "You'd bail me out," he said, not too worried by the sound of his voice. He kept the window down but pulled the door shut the rest of the way, handing Ambrose his briefcase through the window, one hand still on the wheel. "Say hi to Jane for me."
"Oh, thanks," Ambrose said, grabbing the briefcase, completely surprised he'd forgotten the thing. He usually had the thing practically handcuffed to him while he was still at work, lunch or no lunch. He smiled. "And I will. She'll be sorry she didn't get to say hi, so I'll just say she says hello. Pre-emptive strike and all."
Cain got a wave and a smile, and Ambrose was on his way back into his office, grinning.
--
The college needed money for renovations, salaries, projects, and many more things. The money wasn't in the budget, but the goals were there and so the educational board did what most establishments did in a time of financial crisis. They fundraised. The reception hall with the windows that stretched from floor to ceiling was decorated in many tables with centerpieces and plates, everything looking a bit romantic in red and white, even though the theme was 'Have A Heart, Give To The Cause'.
In order to raise money, Baker College was turning to its townsfolk to line their pockets with aid-money and the most effective way to do it had been determined as a bachelor auction (as Bake Sale had been ruled out and a simple Charity Drive had been nixed as it wasn't enough to really pull in some high numbers). 'Bachelor' Auction was a bit broad, anyway. Many a married, engaged, and taken man was being put on the stage for the cause and that included Professor Ambrose Brown.
He was expected to pull in a hefty sum, considering the pull he had around campus, the one that made everyone want to either talk to him, become his best friend, or have him fall madly and hopelessly in love (the last was a popular fantasy amongst many of his female students and the occasional male one).
One of the very last minute additions to the line of bachelors was so late that his name wasn't even printed on the program for the evening, but after saying 'No' sixteen times, he folded (with a nudge from Azkadellia and a remark about how the college could use the money) and said yes. And so Sheriff Wyatt Cain was also on the auction block that evening. He'd been in the hall earlier than everyone else to check the security of it and to get a good look at the place. Seating was assigned and he found that he and Ambrose had been pushed to a small table by the window, just the two of them.
He gently caught a server's passing arm, gesturing to it. "They're all twos," she insisted, sounding frazzled and busy. "Bachelors line the windows in twos in the order they go. You two are last so..." She pointed to one chair, then the other. "Bidders line the inside. I'm sorry, did you want us to change it?" She was already hopping from one foot to the other, as if hurrying to get out of there.
Cain didn't want to change it, he just wondered whether this was the gods' funny way of playing a prank on him. So he shook his head 'no' and his mouth went a little dry as he made his way over (wearing a tailored suit-jacket, pale-blue button down and black trousers) and picked up his name-card, staring at the calligraphy before glancing to Ambrose's seat.
Well, Awkward was definitely about to earn a new definition.
--
Ambrose had actually gone shopping for the event. It had mostly been Azkadellia's idea, which naturally had morphed into Azkadellia and Jane's idea, and he'd ended up going shopping and blowing a ridiculous amount of money on clothes for himself for once. When Ambrose had pointed out that him going shopping for an 'auction ensemble' as they'd taken to calling it kind of defeated the purpose of the auction itself, he'd been politely brushed off and told to try on whatever the hell a power tie was.
He hadn't bought any power ties, any tweed jackets with leather on the elbows (which Jane had apparently found funny on him for some reason), or any shoes. He was eventually getting some more shirts, but today he was wearing a good, nice O.Z.-made shirt under the dark blue suit. Ambrose felt ridiculous in Otherside clothes, but he was wearing them anyway, and managing to muss up his hair while he itched to get back in his normal attire. It just felt too light for some reason.
He nodded to the servers and the organizers, who were apparently happy to see he'd actually shown up. Admittedly he was running a bit late, but not by much, and managed to find his seat by the window with a girl's help. Ambrose sighed, eyes closed, and ran a hand through his hair, reminding himself that it was for a good cause and that if he ran out he'd never hear the end of it from anyone in the entirety of Baker.
When he opened his eyes, however, he found himself blinking at Cain. His mouth opened, and then shut, and then opened again, with plenty of questions and absolutely no idea what to say. So, he said the first thing that came to mind.
"No hat?"
Cain had been sitting there while the room had poured full of people. He'd smiled at distinguished professors and members of the community and when Ambrose had tumbled his way in, he'd watched with barely-veiled amusement at how very lost he looked. Though no one else (not from the O.Z.) would know, Cain could see that Ambrose was likely never going to fully ingratiate himself into Othersider culture. Definitely not as easily as Cain was easing into it.
He sat up a little straighter and tugged on the lapels of his suit jacket to rearrange it and let it fall naturally into place as he shook his head. "Apparently, it's impolite to wear one indoors," he informed Ambrose with a 'who-knew?' tone.
He reached for his glass of water, gesturing across the table to the seat opposite, the one bearing a namecard with 'PROFESSOR AMBROSE BROWN' written on it. There was also a bottle of red and white wine on the table in a liter each to go with the floral centerpiece. Each table bore the well-planned design, but it was a nice touch that would last in everyone's minds well into the night.
"You look..." Cain took a moment to pause. "Nice." Normal, was the word he was going for, but saying it aloud could have been construed as an insult. Around them, people were mingling and saying their fond hellos with kisses on the cheek and questions about sons, daughters, pets, and jobs. Cain knew he should urge Ambrose to go join the circles (seeing as Cain had done a turn of the room already), but he couldn't bring himself to, so he just poured a glass of red wine for himself.
Ambrose made a 'huh' noise at the fact wearing a hat indoors was considered impolite, but his mind was only half on that. After all, he'd had to sit through one too many of Jane's baseball cap or hat or something rants. He was just sitting in the chair and leaning back, looking at Cain.
"Thank you, you look good too, but why are you here?" he asked, and glanced at the room full of small talk and useless chatter.
Even on the Otherside, people were stepping on top of each other to get one more step up the social ladder. He knew he should be out there playing the game, if only for appearing like he cared about the game in the first place, but Ambrose just frowned at them. "One of the best things that I've gotten out of bringing Azkadellia to Baker is avoiding events like this." Ambrose didn't know he'd said it aloud, he was so involved in watching and immediately assessing every person in the room.
Cain was already in the process of pouring a glass of wine in Ambrose's glass, seeing as he was used to doing this at home when they would break out the alcohol. Routine was easy and dinner together was one of those routines. The only difference was that this time, there wasn't a thirteen annual old and a six annual old around to demand anything. "Azkadellia and the committee wore me down," he admitted, picking up one of the cards with a scribbled addendum to the bottom.
In black cursive writing, it read: 'A Personal Day with Sheriff Wyatt Cain'.
"Az says I owe the community some support," Cain added, wine glass pressed to his lips before he took a sip of the liquid, staining his upper lip slightly.
Ambrose found himself smiling at that. He gave Cain a slight toast of thanks for pouring the wine (just like usual, really) and took a quick drink. He did, however, stop at the wine, and pick up the bottle. "...I didn't expect it to be good." He cleared his throat and moved on. "Well, you're a stronger man than I am. You managed to hold out for more than one request from Azkadellia." He shook his head, smiling. "I almost worry she's too good sometimes. But she does have a point. Being sheriff is all well and good, but you have to help the community pay for things that you then have to protect. It's this big circle of cause and effect in the economy. A big, obnoxious circle that gets people like you and me auctioned off for someone else's debts." Strangely enough, he didn't sound bitter. In fact, he sounded incredibly nervous, which he certainly was.
It was almost endearing to watch the slight awkwardness of the social setting and it was familiar in the way that Ambrose got when he discussed the theory of something or other and Cain couldn't pick out two strains of sense in all of it. So he leaned back against the window with his wine and crossed one leg over his knee, peering out amidst the crowd. "They’re not so bad. Just don't make eye contact and for the love of the gods, don't ask about anyone's pets or children."
He took a deep breath, looking back at the crowd. "So they're amateurs, then," Ambrose said lightly, not very surprised. He could deal with them and do it very easily, but still found himself glued to his seat. "Do I really need to?" Ambrose sounded more like a petulant Jeb than anything else when he asked.
Luckily for Cain, he'd spent many annuals dealing with a petulant and hesitant Jeb, so he knew how to deal well with this.
"Whoever buys you isn't going to hurt you, but it also wouldn’t hurt to butter up the crowd a little," Cain said, in that tone that said if anyone did even try and hurt him, there'd be Issues with the local law. "Besides, I don't exactly see tonight going any other way but Jane bidding on you with whatever she's got in the bank." He set the wine-glass down and pushed himself to his feet, rounding the table to crouch down in front of Ambrose and catch his gaze. "Hey," he exhaled, hands on his knees. "You really do have to," he admitted, now putting Operation-Placate-Not!Jeb into play. "Say hello. Kiss a cheek. Go compliment your girlfriend's dress," he reminded.
Ambrose stared at him. True, every point he brought up was valid, but there was one very large gaping hole in the thing.
"Cain, Jane said she wasn't coming. She has thirty-five papers to grade," he said, and then paused. "...well, she could have been lying of course, but thirty-five papers isn't exactly chump change or anything, especially the size of them."
He was wallpaper, nothing but wallpaper when he had a choice in the matter. Ambrose liked people, sure, but balls and social affairs had never been his favorite things. He was overly talented in politics and dancing, sure, but that didn't mean he liked them. Well, dancing was nice, but not in front of lots of people where you could slip up or be one beat too fast and ruin your partner's dress.
But this was Baker, and they knew him as that quirky but likeable Professor Ambrose Brown, so he sighed and nodded. The nod was quickly completed with a swig of wine, but he nodded again. "I can do that if I have to, then."
Cain shifted on the balls of his feet to readjust in order to not find himself sprawled out on the marble floor of the hall, giving Ambrose a wary look. He could have sworn he would have insisted Jane be there to make sure there was some certainty in place. Cain's attention was momentarily distracted when he saw Annie across the room in her spring-best and he brought himself back to attention with a nod. "You have to," Cain insisted, clapping Ambrose's shoulder tightly (mostly to help him to his feet).
He excused himself quietly, digging out his wallet and checkbook and going to speak with his coworker privately as he pointed out several things on the schedule as well as whispered quiet instructions to her ear that no one else could overhear.
Ambrose didn't have Cain to hide behind anymore, and he really did have to go out there and live just a few moments more in court-mode. He stood up just as gracefully as ever when he was nervous, and started on the outskirts of the group with some woman named Amelia, who was already intent on bidding on her husband, which still made little to no sense to Ambrose, but he kept smiling and chatting on. Amelia introduced him to her brother Paul, who was closer to the middle, and Paul's friends (who all complained about being dragged there by their girlfriends or wives who were just there to window shop, as a guy named Jason put it), and then the friends' friends, and Ambrose knew the whole bunch, put every name with every face, and hated every smile and perfectly-placed laugh he used to charm the pants (and many a skirt) off every single person at the auction. There wasn't a Jane Walker anywhere on the premises, which was a dismal fate in the making, but he'd done his job, which meant he was allowed to escape now.
In a social setting such like this one, the best escape was always the simplest, so he excused himself and headed for the restroom with a line that had them still chuckling and shaking their heads when he managed to get inside the empty bathroom, face chalk white. He put water on his face, he put water on the back of his neck, and he refused to vomit from the fact he'd had to do that to people who didn't even know what was happening to them.
He sighed, and set his forehead on the mirror. "I need to teach Azkadellia not to do that to innocent people," he muttered, completely honest and already wondering if it'd be too late. Maybe he should check up with her teachers, find out if his trust in her being just a little girl at school had been nothing but a dream. "After all, you can't take the blood out of the aristocrat."
It became clear after almost twenty minutes that Ambrose was nowhere to be found and they were trying to get everyone settled down. Cain excused himself one more time after checking to see that Annie understood what he'd been discussing with her. She gave an affirmative nod and Cain wound his way through the crowd and checked the holding area, the coat check, and finally the bathroom.
That was where he found Ambrose leaning against the mirror. Doing a quick survey, Cain made sure no one was in any of the stalls and then he locked the door, ignoring the announcement over the PA system that the first bids were starting.
"You look terrible," Cain said bluntly, tugging down several paper towels and running cold water on them before handing them to Ambrose (after checking for a temperature).
"Make up your mind, Cain," Ambrose said immediately, voice perfectly pitched for an amused best friend, eyes nothing but friendly and teasing. "First I look nice, then I look terrible. Did I ruin my hair or-"
Ambrose slammed his hand against the mirror, and he looked miserable once again, the entire facade gone in a flash. "Gods, I hate doing this. Royal Advisor who hates the royal part of his job," he muttered, and nodded his thanks for the towels, stuffing half of them in his mouth and the other half went on his head. After a few moments, he took the wad out of his mouth and the cloth off his head, and looked a bit sheepishly at Cain. "...sorry. And thank you. I'll be better now, just as long as I don't have to..." He just waved his hand out the bathroom door, doubting Cain would understand manipulate innocent Othersiders without a justifiable purpose from the wave. He still hoped, though. Cain tended to do better at things than Ambrose expected, after all.
Cain just brushed his thumb over Ambrose’s forehead again with a quiet sound of a laugh and a pitiable noise. "Be that man again?" Cain suggested. He'd had a view of Ambrose working the floor, just like everyone else. The difference was that no one else knew Ambrose as Royal Advisor to Queen of the whole O.Z. Cain removed his hand and gave Ambrose a wry smirk, stepping forward to inspect his own reflection -- brushing away a fleck of lint there, fixing his hair there (and he needed a haircut soon, the way it was growing and spiking in disarray).
"Be that man without a good reason," Ambrose stated, and frowned when Cain started fixing himself up. "Are you primping? Gods, Wyatt Cain is primping." He blinked. "That just..." Ambrose shook his head. "I don't think I'm ever going to apply that word to you again. Not even I primp."
"How about focusing on how you're the most-wanted not-bachelor out there?" he said calmly, craning his head to the side to catch Ambrose's gaze. "If we were getting these funds directly, we could probably put an addition on the damn house on what you’re projecting to earn alone."
Ambrose waited for him to finish with the mirror before responding to Cain's statement, considering he really, really didn't want to focus on that. "Which do you think they'll be bidding on, Cain, me or the man I just made them think I am?"
Cain turned his attention away from the mirror and lifted one shoulder in an effortless shrug, now looking a bit intentionally disheveled (at least, from the neck-up). He tugged Ambrose by the upper-arm to the door and unlocked it. "I can say with complete confidence that it's you they'll be bidding on," he guaranteed.
Ambrose scowled a bit at the tugging, but went through the door without any other form of protest, shrugging Cain off as they walked back. He sighed. "Why do I always end up listening to you when the kids aren't involved? You usually act like an idiot, and yet here I am getting herded towards the table again." He shook his head, glancing over at Cain. "You're just very, very strange."
"It's how I keep you from getting bored with me."
It might have come off light and joking, but there was just the slightest note of seriousness in Cain's tone that bespoke the truth of that statement. Ambrose was eccentric himself and Cain found himself in many a situation where he wondered when the day would come when he would grow tired of him, when Azkadellia would find someone better to look up to.
"And I am not," Cain pointed out with a mild growl, cutting through the back of the room while the emcee was announcing the fifth bachelor of the night (a local lawyer with freckles and red hair), "an idiot."
"I didn't say you were an idiot," Ambrose snapped back quietly, rolling his eyes. "I said you act like one. You're plenty smart, you just don't..." Ambrose paused, trying to find the most polite way to phrase it. "You just don't seem to take logic into account a lot of the time. You're very...spur-of-the-moment when it comes to some things."
Ambrose figured that would do for now, and watched the proceedings, doing a very good job at not visibly wincing at every bid.
Cain slid back into his chair and neither of them had drawn much attention, seeing as they were cheering off the successful bid and the next one was already lining up on the block (Cain knew this one, seeing as he was one of his coworkers and Lambton ate this up every year they did this). He just sipped at his wine, glancing at Ambrose and keeping an attentive eye on him. "You could use some of that spur-of-the-moment attitude," he said. "Objectively. You plan too much."
Cain got a flicker of a smile at that. "You do remember what my old job was, right? Spontaneous actions or decisions aren't something I'm very good at. If I don't plan, who will?" Ambrose knew he was staring, but Lambton was actually flexing muscles and generally acting like this was nothing but a big game. Maybe it was, but he still quirked an eyebrow up at Cain. "You work with some very interesting people, Cain."
"Keyword, old job," Cain stressed, quietly, not wanting to disturb Lambton's...bravado. He sighed deeply when there was a show of dropping his pen and showing off. "Oh for..." he muttered and shook his head. “I think he's half-drunk. I hope he's half-drunk," he added.
Besides, as soon as Lambton was through, Cain was the one being carted up there and he hadn't drank enough to be at ease up there.
"I'm hoping he's completely drunk, at this rate," Ambrose snickered when the man started to pantomime stripping. The women were eating it up, giggling and upping the bid. Ambrose wondered if they'd have him act like an idiot for their day. Certainly sounded tempting to Ambrose, at least, if Lambton actually happened to be sober. He looked over at Cain, taking a quick drink out of his wine glass. "I missed what the order is. Who goes next and when are we thrown on the auction block?"
Cain hid his grin behind a glass of water, knowing it wasn't right to laugh at one of coworkers and he picked up the order of things, handing it over to Ambrose. "Me next, and they're wrapping up the show by saving the best for last."
Ambrose's mouth opened as he checked the list. They'd gotten through six auctions while he'd been having his little self-hate party in the bathroom, and now there was nobody but Cain, and then him.
"...well. That was unexpected," he said lightly, and gave Cain a very slight small. "Good luck?"
Cain shrugged, like he didn't have a care in the world, and relaxed back into his chair. "I imagine that I'll go easily enough. I doubt much of a fuss'll get raised." After all, it wasn't as if he'd gone around giving the town the same treatment Ambrose got or the attention the kids did.
Ambrose just stared at Cain. "...you do know you're attractive and capable of carrying a good conversation, right? Five minutes of bidding, minimum."
"You gonna be okay while I’m gone?" he checked quietly. Because frankly, the notion of having to run off the stage to deal with a freaking-out Ambrose was something that really didn't need to happen.
He nodded. "I'm not exactly manipulating people by standing in front of them. I'll be fine." So long as nobody did anything stupid. And the damn suit was getting itchy again and just feeling wrong.
Cain exhaled a long sigh as Lambton was shuffled off (raffled off to one of the town's older widows, which frankly, made Cain damn amused) and stood himself when he was announced, giving Ambrose a half-there smile and a quiet, "good luck, okay?" before making his way up to the stage and lifting a hand to wave, trying not to look too awkward as his credentials (half-phony, half-genuine) were read out and he didn't mind so much when Jeb was brought up, seeing as that evoked a genuine smile.
And then the bidding began and Cain had honestly never felt more like a piece of meat than in that moment. It took all his reserves not to pull a face at the whole process and he knew if he did, he'd get a lecture from someone or other, so he just behaved and hoped Annie would remember what he'd told her earlier about the auction after him.
The bidding started out as nice and polite as it had been for every other bachelor, but one of the women suddenly shouted out a bid, followed by just about three other shouts. It got fierce between those four, and Ambrose found himself staring. It reminded him of women having the most vicious game of bumper-cars ever, for some reason. Finally it was a fifth woman, one recognizable as Jeb's teacher, stood up and bid. She bid very, very high.
The gavel slammed down almost immediately, and Ambrose found himself wondering what exactly had really happened on that date and if he needed to worry about Cain's virtue for some reason.
The moment the gavel came down, Cain exhaled a long sigh of relief and gave Miss Miller something of a wink and a half-there smile for saving him, signing his name on a sheet that was required for the intents and purposes of the auction. He made his way through the crowd to press a kiss to her cheek and murmur a 'thank you' before going back to the table and standing right in front of Ambrose.
"Don't worry," was all Cain said, making instant eye contact with the other man.
"Well, we could already afford one addition onto the house. Might as well get two," Ambrose said lightly, and stood up with that grace that meant he was thinking about something else, namely standing up and having women shout out how much he was worth.
He was walking gracefully too, which was never a good sign for anyone who knew Ambrose. He'd taken to just idly strolling everywhere, not gliding and keeping his back straight and all those Royal Advisor-y things. He hated his suit, he felt like an idiot, and he was already running a hand through his hair when the bidding started, but he forced a smile through it all.
Cain settled back into his seat in the midst of the first bids and he barely even reacted as he heard the antagonistic tone of some of the women. Up and up the dollar amount went and Cain wasn't surprised in the least. He was just very, very patient as he watched the wives and the women of the town bid on him and occasionally, one man in the crowd.
Cain just checked his watch and sipped at his wine while the number got fairly high and by that alone, the college would have no issue making their repairs. It was then that he leaned back, lifted a hand over his head and lightly tapped on the glass of the window, a signal to Annie.
Annie, bless her sweet heart, stood up and gave a bid that was three times the highest current bid. She smiled that adorable 'aw shucks' smile she had as she turned to all points of the room. "Station-bidding," she explained, and no one seemed to want to go higher than that, so the gavel was slammed down and Cain contented himself to finishing off his glass of the not-so-bad-wine.
Ambrose was so surprised by that he ended up staying on the block for almost half a minute, only to smile and nod at Annie, and then walk very, very quickly over to the table. He stared. He stared for a very, very long time.
"...you bought me?" he managed to ask, and shook his head, grabbing the white wine and pouring a very large amount into the other wineglass. "You bought me. I was bought by the police, and Wyatt Cain."
Ambrose's only real reaction to that was to stare for a moment, and then down the wine in one gulp, glass completely empty when he set it down and went back to staring.
Cain listened carefully and gave a thoughtful nod. "I am Wyatt Cain, yes," he agreed, eyeing Ambrose up and down. "Besides. The boys could use some theory given to them and who better to give it to them than the star lecturer from Baker College?" When he said it like that, it came off completely natural.
He watched the glass of wine carefully, taking the bottle and shifting it to the other side of the table, just barely out of Ambrose's reach.
Ambrose just rolled his eyes at moving the wine - he hadn't been even remotely close to drunk or having any intention of getting there - and slouched back in his chair, any and all sense of the Royal Advisor completely gone. He crossed his arms, eyeing Cain, and bit the side of his lower lip.
The nod of agreement was barely there. "Fine."
He was back to looking like a petulant child, really, and Cain finished his glass of wine and filled it to the brim with the procured white, sipping it as he relaxed back into the chair. "We'll see you there bright and early next Friday. Oh and, Ambrose?" Cain said, leaning over the table. "Seeing as we did earn you fair and square, we," meaning Cain, "would love if you wore that one jacket of yours. The one you like wearing to class."
With that, he gave Ambrose one last smile and finished his glass of wine, getting up from the table to do the proper circulations and rounds that were right after an evening like that.
Every once in a while, he would look back Ambrose's way and smile broadly. Just every once in a while.
--
The last day of Ambrose’s class, Azkadellia walked in right next to her ‘uncle’ in her usual elaborate hairstyle and a more intricate dress than usual today, in honor of the occasion (and in mourning for the countries she was about to decimate). It nearly hit the floor, and she looked exactly like the princess she was. Not that the class which had been seated and fidgeting for probably at least fifteen minutes before class actually started knew that. They only saw a little girl chatting away with their professor.
“And you remember I asked you to be polite about it?” Ambrose asked. “This is kind of practice for you. Making decisive political movements isn’t something you can really try out around here.”
“I remember, Ambrose,” she said simply. The girl hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d started walking to the college, and Ambrose would have been worried if it weren’t for the fact he knew that smile, since it came right off her mother’s face. It was the excited-but-trying-to-not-be smile, so Ambrose grinned, pulling out a chair from nearby and setting it close to the center of where he usually walked around and lectured or explained things and did all that professor-y stuff that he was apparently pretty good at now.
He stood up in front of them all, smiling, and he could practically hear the crinkling of cloth as people leaned forward. “Now. This is Azkadellia, my niece. I’ve told her to be polite to all of you, and I expect the same courtesy from my class.” When he didn’t continue, there were nods and murmurs of agreement, and Ambrose nodded back. “To review, your group will stand up and give the basic form of your government, and if she asks for it, you’ll present the map too. You all chose your official debate leader by now, hopefully, because that person is now the leading party in your government. President, royalty, dictator, village guru, it doesn’t matter.” Ambrose looked back at Azkadellia, who had pulled out a legal pad and pen from his briefcase, and grinned. “Class, it’s been an honor working with you. Azkadellia?”
She simply stepped forward, looking as delicate as a porcelain doll, smiling at them all. Ambrose just set himself down in the chair, smiling and ready to watch. “Hello. I assume you have a set order to go in?”
The class shifted, and a group - for the first time, Azkadellia noticed groups all had relatively similar colored shirts. She figured that was yet another thing of Ambrose’s doing - stood up. They paused, but then a short girl with blond hair began speaking. “Our government is a theocracy, ruled by a religion that has most of its major precepts circling the concept that death is a sacred thing. The people are brought into it and taught in schools about the religion, and the ruler is…well. Sacrificed every ten years. There’s no class system, aside from priests being above everyone else and the ruler being above the priests.”
At which point, they simply waited.
Azkadellia tilted her head to the side. “So am I to understand there’s no class system due to oppression by the priests and the ruler?”
The girl - and, in fact, the entire group - blinked. “Ah, no, they are all taught that every job is as important as every other, aside from religious duties.”
“And a man in charge of cleaning out sewers will think he is as loved and cherished in this theocracy as a doctor. Are they all paid the same?”
“There is no currency,” the girl said, chin rising as she realized that yes, in fact, Azkadellia knew what she was doing.
Azkadellia raised an eyebrow at that fact. “So they have a barter system?”
“No, there’s just no need for currency,” the girl insisted. “They work for the good of their ruler and the religion. They can’t think of anything else, the schools take care of that.”
“I believe you’re underestimating humanity, then,” Azkadellia said simply. “How is your ruler chosen?”
“At random,” a boy in the group spoke up. “The current ruler picks a priest at random when he has reached the start of his rule, and that priest takes the first child born in their territory. There’s a three-ruler cycle. You take the title at twenty, you are sacrificed at thirty by the next ruler.”
“And these brain-washed families are happy to give over their child with the knowledge that they will be killed at thirty for divinity, with no protest,” Azkadellia said, voice going a bit dark.
“Az,” Ambrose warned, and she just nodded.
“I’m afraid that no matter how well trained you may have your population, there will eventually be questions into the faith. If there’s a war with another country, the people who return won’t find anything divine in the carnage. In fact, one man surviving a near-death experience and telling people about it - it’s not always a white light, after all - could topple your theocracy.” She paused. “It’s an intriguing idea though.”
“But-”
“You get an A on my side,” Ambrose interrupted, and looked over at Azkadellia. “Your opinion?”
“Interesting idea, good theories, just underestimated humanity. Too much optimism or too naïve.” She smiled. “So yes. A.”
“You sound like your mother,” Ambrose smiled, and Azkadellia blushed slightly, barely managing to stop a curtsy at the compliment. He looked over at the theocracy group. “Excellently done, by the way.”
The blonde girl frowned. “But we got crushed by a kid in middle school.”
“No, you got crushed by my niece,” Ambrose corrected. “Most of my experience in the field runs in the family.”
There was a collective groan at that, along with some profanity from the groups that had yet to go. Ambrose just chuckled. “Next.”
And with a sigh, the next group got up. Azkadellia politely massacred them all with wars and assassinations and all the most basic precepts of humanity. Or at least, most of the worst ones. Ambrose ended up stopping it around three-fourths of the way through.
“If it makes you feel any better, I now intend to teach a bit of sociology and psychology in the next session of the class,” he said, grinning at the sighs and whining of the class.
Azkadellia laughed too, smiling back at him, because they both knew it probably wouldn’t help much anyway against a Princess of the O.Z. or the Royal Advisor. They’d practically been trained from birth for this stuff, which was why nearly everyone got an A, aside from one group, made up of one person.
“An absolute monarchy-”
“Explosion,” Azkadellia had said blankly, and the girl had just stared for a moment, and sat down quietly. They didn’t smile for a while after that.
Ambrose gave her a B anyway, because they were just kids, all of them, and if she hadn’t picked that governing system she might have had a chance. The O.Z. had magic, where the Otherside had nothing but their wits to protect them. And after everything he’d seen, Ambrose was beginning to wonder if even magic could save their home.
tbc
TITLE: Azkadellia's Okay! (With Ambrose and the Cains' help), Part 5: Countries Massacred; Restaurant Warned.
RATING: PG-13.
EVENTUAL PAIRING: Ambrose/Cain (or Cain/Ambrose, whatever), VERY FUTURE Az/OC, Jeb/OC/OC
DESCRIPTION: When the Witch picks another target, everything changes. Including switching out the Roboparents for Ambrose and the only Tin Man who knows what's going on (and his kid).
This Part: Azkadellia goes godzilla. The police get a pet. Cain is arguably sane, and Jeb is apparently Not Appearing In This Part. Oops?
Part 1: Things Explode; Iceland Blamed.
Part 2: Pink House Purchased; Introductions Ensue.
Part 3: Fight In Classroom; Landslide Victory.
Part 4: Cain Doesn't Move; Children Scream.
Azkadellia's Okay!
(With Ambrose and the Cains' help)
Part 5: Countries Massacred; Restaurant Warned.
With Azkadellia nearly finished with middle school, it meant that she had to take the next step and be enrolled in a high school. They had the various choices from the public school to the private one and there was the Catholic one, which Cain wasn't exactly sure he wanted for Azkadellia seeing as none of them were very religious. Seeing as he wasn't about to make any decisions on his own, he'd dropped by the college campus to pick up Ambrose after making a reservation at the nearest restaurant -- seeing as they only had an hour between the two of them.
At noon on the dot, Cain was by Ambrose's office, knocking lightly on the door as he checked his back pocket for his wallet. "Ambrose, you ready? I'm due back at one for a meeting, so there's no dallying today," he insisted, forcing a smile at some of the passing students and ignoring the mild comments about how he was 'the guy who flipped out during Professor Brown's class' and more of the same.
Besides, Cain never much cared for what other people thought. So long as he was fitting in, things weren't to be panicked over. He leaned idly back against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his torso and tipping his hat low over his face as he just waited patiently for Ambrose to make his way out.
Ambrose's office was tiny and a mess. He had a bookshelf and a desk and everything, sure, but considering he'd bought every book in the bookstore (and gone through most of them by now), the room was overflowing. Everywhere, books were strewn about, practically making a tunnel between the door and the desk. Ambrose grabbed his briefcase and opened the door, sighing, and hopefully closing it before Cain could see inside.
"I'm ready," he breathed out. Today had been incredibly hectic as he prepared his class for the onslaught that would be Azkadellia as best he could, wanting to give them at least a fighting chance. He locked the door behind him, flipping the Yes, we're open! sign that Jane had given him to the Sorry, we're closed! side in the process. "I just had thirteen students in here getting help on their countries, and that's not dallying. That's doing my job. My very, very erratically time-consuming job. But I'm here now, sorry for holding you up, let's go."
Cain tipped the hat back up and checked his gun in the holster as he made the way out, digging out keys and jingling them around. "You get to inaugurate the new thing. I even took lessons and listened to someone, which ought to count as a miracle, far as I'm concerned." The truck had been sitting around the parking lot of the dealership until Cain had time to pick it up and that had only been that day.
Instead, he just held the front door for Ambrose, nodding to the pale-blue brand-new truck in the lot.
"You listened to someone without being tied to something?" Ambrose grinned at him. "Wow, that is a miracle. Either that or you really wanted this truck." He paused, looking it over, and glanced at Cain. "Does this mean we're actually using the car hold for a car, or are you two going to share?" He paused, coughing slightly into his empty hand. "And I could maybe, ah. Enhance it a bit. If you wanted." He nearly reached to open the hood, but restrained himself, laughing lightly.
"I'm working on an overhang, don't you worry about me," Cain promised, giving Ambrose an extremely wary look that was two parts 'don't-touch-my-new-baby' and two parts 'what-exactly-would-you-do?' Cain had never needed much room beyond the desk and bed, but he still thought the truck deserved its own space, almost like it was a person.
"It just seems sort of strange, having a car hold, and a car, and not holding the car inside a place built and named to do it," Ambrose said, smirking slightly at the look (he knew it well, thanks to Ahamo and his hot air balloon) but being nice enough to not tease Cain about it. "But anyway, Azkadellia."
"I uh, got us reservations at that little Italian place with the green tablecloths and the daffodils," Cain said, snapping his fingers as if trying to recall something, but he never did say the name.
Still smiling, Ambrose patted the briefcase. "I've got all the school information and paperwork with me. And good choice on the restaurant, that's where they have the really good breadsticks, isn't it? An hour might be tough, but we can do it." Or, more specifically, Ambrose could. He had a bad habit of eating slowly and precisely if he forgot there wasn't a Queen or someone else he had to impress on the other side of the table. Luckily, Ambrose rarely tried to impress Cain.
Cain unlocked the doors, heading to the passenger side first to shift the box sitting in the seat to the back, tossing the red bow to the side. That pungent new-car smell was the first thing that assaulted him and made Cain look that shade of proud again, the one where he was earning money and living like a normal Othersider would.
He gestured, holding out a hand for Ambrose to use in case he needed the help getting up the distance. "I brought a couple papers too. Mostly some lists and comparisons," he admitted. "And yeah, this is the place with the breadsticks. I put in a call to warn them you were coming."
And he wasn't joking about that either.
He didn't need the help getting in the truck, but he took the hand anyway, even though it was mostly to get a look at the box. Ambrose only got enough of a glance to get the fact that it was Jeb's birthday present, and decided to leave it as a mystery until the day. "Well, that's good," Ambrose said. "I have the more extensive information, you have cross-referencing materials, we should be able to figure something out since we're this prepared."
Ambrose did, however, pause at the restaurant quip. Admittedly it had been a good thing for him to do, but Cain made it sound like he was some dish-breaking monster or something.
So he turned his head away from the other man to hide a grin. "You know, Cain, with a truck this big, someone could think you're trying to compensate for something."
Cain rolled his eyes as he got in, slamming the door with him and getting the engine going while he gave Ambrose a withering look. "Or it could just be practical given I'll be toting back supplies for the horse, bikes for the kids--" Which was what was in the box for Jeb. "--and good for towing?" Gods forbid, however, he get away with anything without catching flack. He made sure his seatbelt was tightly fastened and glanced to see Ambrose was well-protected as he started their way there.
Ambrose paused, and then smiled a bit deviously. "Well, at least you didn't get a red truck. Then I really would be worried."
Cain steadfastly ignored all comments about the color of his new truck. "Really, the choice of schools is down to two, as far as I see it," he started in on the business side of things immediately. "We either go public or private and the choice is most heavily influenced by which is better to mould her into the woman she needs to be when we go back."
Business was business, and the only thing he was more serious about than Azkadellia's upbringing was Azkadellia's safety, and they seemed to be doing pretty well in the safety department. So far, at least. "Most of the friends she's made in middle school will be going into public, and while private has a more intensive curriculum, public could possibly force her into less time learning and more in...you know." He shrugged, sighing slightly. "Social activities."
He would never, ever stop worrying about Azkadellia's social well-being. Ambrose had seen far too many intelligent people be nothing but intelligent, and he sometimes even wondered if he himself fell into that category. But that wasn't the issue here, the issue was private or public school for the princess of the O.Z.
It wasn't a long drive to get to the restaurant and by the time Ambrose was done with his talking, Cain had found them a space (checking his watch constantly for time) and was already on his way out, thinking of the basic argument it boiled down to.
Either they sent her to private, where her education could blossom and she would have some of the best book-smarts a girl could ever ask for or they could send her into public and let her flourish in a social capacity. Which might even eventually mean boys, a thought that caused Cain to clench his jaw. Nonetheless, he had to give his opinion and after he'd locked the truck, he was already leading Ambrose to a waiting table. "Well, Jeb's going into public school, there's no question. But he isn't going to be..." Cain took a look around them while folding a napkin in his lap. "Well, he won't ever have the responsibilities that she does."
Because Cain had called, salad and breadsticks had been set on the table for arrival, making sure that the hour deadline would see no danger of being missed.
As soon as they sat, Ambrose had the briefcase open and pulled out a small stack of papers, handing them over and draping the napkin in his lap, only to stop and shake his head, reminding himself he didn't have to eat like he was staring at royalty. So the fork was out, the dressing was on, and he started eating, forcing himself to just stick to the task and conversation.
"Sorry to burst any sort of bubble you had, Cain, but with the connection Jeb will have to a pri...to Azkadellia, he'll have a rather high level of influence, whether he wants it or not. Or if you want it or not - you're stuck too," he said, and then forced himself to not wait for Cain. He took another bite of salad. They had an hour to decide Azkadellia's schooling, and he couldn't waste it.
Cain hadn’t requested any fancy additions to the lunch. He'd just ordered a couple bowls of pasta the moment the waiter came by and from there, he could just focus on the paperwork, sipping his water as he curiously studied every paper in the stack. "Well, regardless, that's not for a while yet," he pointed out, sounding distant and distracted as he gave all his focus to the papers at hand.
"Now, she's brilliant, and she has plenty of friends at school already. She and Karen are best friends, and I feel bad about it but I already said Azkadellia couldn't go over to her friends’ for a sleepover. Luckily it was more a suggestion than anything else. She has straight A's, no club activities, and every time I see her go into school she's got just...a gaggle of friends around her." Ambrose took a bite out of a breadstick, and just couldn't help himself. He sighed, staring at the thing as it rested on his plate and he chewed. "Gods, those breadsticks are good. I really should try to get the recipe some time. Is it the seasoning? The dough?" He chuckled, face moving into a goofy-looking smile, and he took another bite, waiting for Cain's input on the situation.
Cain looked up just in time to see Ambrose rhapsodizing about the breadstick and in time to catch that smile and he froze for a moment, having to compose himself as he set all the papers down and took out his own - simple, yet ably paperclipped. "Here's what I've been thinking. Hear me out," he said, handing over the public school profile. "I can drop by and start an initiative, a Community Safety thing. That way I can check up on her,” he suggested, leaning over to steal a couple of breadsticks from Ambrose's plate so they wouldn't vanish completely before he got a chance to get to them.
And Ambrose just kept smiling. Cain had ordered his favorite, even. The man was almost disturbingly on top of things. He was tempted to smack Cain's hand when he went for the breadsticks, but being possessive of food, no matter how good, was just a bit too strange for even him. He nodded, looking through the concise and orderly paperwork. "Good idea. We're going to have to look after her a bit more in a bigger setting, after all. There's three middle schools that feed into either one. Even a legal guardian has some trouble getting in."
Cain leaned back in his chair and almost looked like he was sprawled out over it as he took a large bite of the breadstick, listening carefully to Ambrose. "Do you have legal guardianship?" he asked. "I never did ask or look into it. I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt."
"...yes and no," Ambrose admitted, blushing slightly and leaning over to practically whisper. "I spent the first day in town doing nothing but forging documents. I kind of had to, considering every document I did bring would be useless. I don't regret it or anything, but...well." He leaned back, shrugging, only to brighten when the plates showed up. "On record I do, and I guess that's all that matters."
Cain's fingers had been going for his glass of water when Ambrose leaned over, which caused a collision course of fingers-on-cheek that he hadn't meant to do and he grimaced his way through a tense apology at the contact. "No, it's good," Cain insisted. "Besides, the worst case scenario is that it's me who has the final say in something police-related, so we might get accused of favoritism, but we're fine."
Ambrose honestly didn't even really notice the contact, the incident tossed aside as soon as he got the apology. "I wouldn't worry," Ambrose added, smiling. "I'm pretty good at it. I'm honestly tempted to have you look at the paperwork and try to tell it's fake."
"My paperwork is pretty fake too," he pointed out, seeing as he couldn't put 'Central City' as the place of birth for himself on a certificate and the ‘Cain Home’ for Jeb's birthplace, as conducted by a midwife, seeing as that was probably frowned upon. "I usually just use my personal charm when it comes to passing them off," he joked in a deadpan.
"Not your badge and cunning?" Ambrose grinned. "I'm almost disappointed. It'd be like one of those thriller novels but...well. Less thrilling."
"Just a little of the badge and cunning," he agreed, grinning right back, checking his watch to make sure that they were doing fine on time. “I was also thinking, you maybe should encourage her to run for student government," Cain said while he rearranged the stolen breadsticks on his plate.
At the mention of getting her to run for government, Ambrose smiled softly. "Cain, you know she'd be mayor by twenty-three if I did that, right?" He shook his head. "It'd be excellent practice, but this is a democracy, and that means it's run much, much differently than a...well." He shrugged. "A Queendom, I guess. Still might be a good idea, though."
Cain scoffed and smiled to himself at the mention of Azkadellia being mayor. "She'd be a good mayor," he pointed out, finishing his water and moving the papers when the plates arrived. "Would it be so terrible if she could bring new aspects of government back with her?" he asked, pitching his voice quieter. "Gods forbid we change at all."
Ambrose ate, and made sure he ate in an efficient kind of way, almost stupidly determined to meet that hour deadline of Cain's. "And yes, she'd be a good mayor and I'm highly tempted to suggest a republic-based governing system when we get back. I'm not going to suggest it though, considering the traditions we've had for, oh, at least two hundred years. And since every system of government has its flaws..." Ambrose paused, and looked at Cain. "Wait, you were there for that class." He shook his head, smiling. "I'm not giving the lecture again, then. If you were paying any attention you already know what I'm saying."
Cain poked at his food in a very neat way, eating compactly and orderly and very precisely, not once staining his shirt. He also had yet to take off his hat.
"I wouldn't forget," he assured wryly with a fond grin on his lips. "I don't think I could forget any of your lectures, even if I was never the scholarly type." Half-done all his food (all his plates were divided by half), he abandoned the food and turned his attention back to the paperwork, flipping it back and forth before grabbing his pen from his shirt pocket and starting to fill in the necessary information. He wasn't even checking any cards in his wallet or verifying with Ambrose. By now, it was memorized.
Ambrose ended up grinning at Cain for the compliment. The man probably knew at least a bit of how hard Ambrose tried to be a good teacher, but hearing someone say it was reassuring. "Thanks, Cain." He cleared his throat, looking at the papers. "So, one more time. Private or public?"
He handed back the nearly completed forms, tapping the bottom where it required a signature. "Here. Sign this. Oh, and public," Cain added after the fact, seeing as the form was already done.
He nodded at the forms. "I figured public," he agreed, and just held out a hand for a pen while he read the fine print. Literally.
Cain leaned the pen over and pressed it to the waiting palm, glad that they'd managed to agree and had done it without a fight. The thought occurred to Cain, but he blinked it away after a quiet moment of shock, signaling the waiter over to package things up to take back to work and when he was there, Cain dug out cash enough for the meal and paid, all while Ambrose was still reading the fine print.
Ambrose signed his name with a flourish, and like always, while 'Ambrose' was in beautiful, practiced script, the 'Brown' tacked onto it was smaller and less precise. "Done," he proclaimed proudly, and handed the pen back to Cain. He smiled at Cain. "You still have any time?" Honestly Ambrose was anxious to see how he'd done in the time department, but he really was concerned about Cain getting to his meeting on time.
Cain took the papers back in hand and glanced them over with a very steady eye, making sure everything was in place and he gave a nod to confirm that they were, in fact, really done. A check to his watch as he took the leftovers in hand answered Ambrose's question. "Eighteen minutes left," he agreed with a smile. "How about that, not bad, right?"
"I'm genuinely impressed," Ambrose agreed, handing the pen back with a grin. "Apparently I really can eat like a normal person if I put my mind to it. Any more paperwork? I thought that was the last of it, but you never know with schools."
For some reason, Ambrose actually didn't want to leave just yet, and it probably showed. Talking to Cain instead of talking at him was actually pretty nice.
Cain pushed the paperwork into Ambrose's briefcase, which meant getting up and sliding them in, unasked, still watching the time. "Not unless you want to do Jeb's now, but we're about five annuals too early." Five annuals until he hit 'middle school', sounded just about right for Cain, seeing as he wasn't ready just yet to deal with the thought of his son growing up that fast.
Ambrose smiled at the mention of Jeb's schooling, though, heading out with Cain. "Want to hear a terrifying thought? By then, Azkadellia will be in college."
"Gods, I don't need to think about that," Cain warned Ambrose. "It's bad enough thinking of my boy hitting puberty. Az at college with all those boys around..." He let that distinctly unpleasant thought trail off. "C'mon, I'll drop you back off on campus."
Ambrose frowned, but stood up. "Did you pay? I was going to at least pay for my part." He shrugged, and figured he could just use it as another excuse for Why Wyatt Cain Can't Pay Rent.
Cain held out his wallet and just tapped it twice with two fingers to indicate that he'd paid, yes. As for the Rent, while Ambrose didn't exactly know it, the majority of Cain's salary had been deviated to two accounts. One marked for college for Azkadellia and one for Jeb. With all this 'interest' out there, he'd have them paid for and more by the time they got there (even if by the calculations Cain made, Jeb would only fulfill one year of college before they went back). There wouldn’t be a need for residence fees, after all, as Cain had decided for the kids that they’d be living at home for security reasons.
Ambrose grinned when they got to the truck. "Actually, she's smart enough to stay away from anything serious with boys. Condoms or not, a princess can't afford a child out of wedlock, for the child's sake alone. So I'm more worried about the girls." He paused. "Well, unless she doesn't like girls. Then I'll just be worried about whose knuckles I have to break and all that stuff."
It would probably have disturbed people to know how completely serious Ambrose was, but he had a feeling Cain would be in complete agreement. After all, they were both dedicated to Azkadellia's safety.
"I dunno," Cain replied, opening the door for Ambrose as he rounded to the driver's side. "Might be hard to break their knuckles when they're already in the hospital with a gunshot wound." Dead serious, he was, but with just a hint of humor lurking around his tone.
Ambrose climbed in with a chuckle. "Just shoot low, Cain. Then we can manage."
"Anything you say," Cain agreed and hid his pleased smile at the turn of the conversation. He took a longer route back to the school, but when the clock started to wind up to 1PM, he knew he couldn't dawdle any longer and pulled up in front of the building containing Ambrose's office and he managed a tight smile, trying not to look too upset about the fact lunch was over. "I'll see you at home tonight, then," he said in lieu of any remarks about the lunch.
"Have a good meeting," Ambrose nodded, and paused, hesitating a bit. He felt like he should say 'this was nice' or 'we should do this again some time' or something, but he just smiled and patted the truck on the side, getting out. "Don't speed, or you'll have to arrest yourself."
Cain leaned over to help pull the door back in, grinning right back at Ambrose. "You'd bail me out," he said, not too worried by the sound of his voice. He kept the window down but pulled the door shut the rest of the way, handing Ambrose his briefcase through the window, one hand still on the wheel. "Say hi to Jane for me."
"Oh, thanks," Ambrose said, grabbing the briefcase, completely surprised he'd forgotten the thing. He usually had the thing practically handcuffed to him while he was still at work, lunch or no lunch. He smiled. "And I will. She'll be sorry she didn't get to say hi, so I'll just say she says hello. Pre-emptive strike and all."
Cain got a wave and a smile, and Ambrose was on his way back into his office, grinning.
--
The college needed money for renovations, salaries, projects, and many more things. The money wasn't in the budget, but the goals were there and so the educational board did what most establishments did in a time of financial crisis. They fundraised. The reception hall with the windows that stretched from floor to ceiling was decorated in many tables with centerpieces and plates, everything looking a bit romantic in red and white, even though the theme was 'Have A Heart, Give To The Cause'.
In order to raise money, Baker College was turning to its townsfolk to line their pockets with aid-money and the most effective way to do it had been determined as a bachelor auction (as Bake Sale had been ruled out and a simple Charity Drive had been nixed as it wasn't enough to really pull in some high numbers). 'Bachelor' Auction was a bit broad, anyway. Many a married, engaged, and taken man was being put on the stage for the cause and that included Professor Ambrose Brown.
He was expected to pull in a hefty sum, considering the pull he had around campus, the one that made everyone want to either talk to him, become his best friend, or have him fall madly and hopelessly in love (the last was a popular fantasy amongst many of his female students and the occasional male one).
One of the very last minute additions to the line of bachelors was so late that his name wasn't even printed on the program for the evening, but after saying 'No' sixteen times, he folded (with a nudge from Azkadellia and a remark about how the college could use the money) and said yes. And so Sheriff Wyatt Cain was also on the auction block that evening. He'd been in the hall earlier than everyone else to check the security of it and to get a good look at the place. Seating was assigned and he found that he and Ambrose had been pushed to a small table by the window, just the two of them.
He gently caught a server's passing arm, gesturing to it. "They're all twos," she insisted, sounding frazzled and busy. "Bachelors line the windows in twos in the order they go. You two are last so..." She pointed to one chair, then the other. "Bidders line the inside. I'm sorry, did you want us to change it?" She was already hopping from one foot to the other, as if hurrying to get out of there.
Cain didn't want to change it, he just wondered whether this was the gods' funny way of playing a prank on him. So he shook his head 'no' and his mouth went a little dry as he made his way over (wearing a tailored suit-jacket, pale-blue button down and black trousers) and picked up his name-card, staring at the calligraphy before glancing to Ambrose's seat.
Well, Awkward was definitely about to earn a new definition.
--
Ambrose had actually gone shopping for the event. It had mostly been Azkadellia's idea, which naturally had morphed into Azkadellia and Jane's idea, and he'd ended up going shopping and blowing a ridiculous amount of money on clothes for himself for once. When Ambrose had pointed out that him going shopping for an 'auction ensemble' as they'd taken to calling it kind of defeated the purpose of the auction itself, he'd been politely brushed off and told to try on whatever the hell a power tie was.
He hadn't bought any power ties, any tweed jackets with leather on the elbows (which Jane had apparently found funny on him for some reason), or any shoes. He was eventually getting some more shirts, but today he was wearing a good, nice O.Z.-made shirt under the dark blue suit. Ambrose felt ridiculous in Otherside clothes, but he was wearing them anyway, and managing to muss up his hair while he itched to get back in his normal attire. It just felt too light for some reason.
He nodded to the servers and the organizers, who were apparently happy to see he'd actually shown up. Admittedly he was running a bit late, but not by much, and managed to find his seat by the window with a girl's help. Ambrose sighed, eyes closed, and ran a hand through his hair, reminding himself that it was for a good cause and that if he ran out he'd never hear the end of it from anyone in the entirety of Baker.
When he opened his eyes, however, he found himself blinking at Cain. His mouth opened, and then shut, and then opened again, with plenty of questions and absolutely no idea what to say. So, he said the first thing that came to mind.
"No hat?"
Cain had been sitting there while the room had poured full of people. He'd smiled at distinguished professors and members of the community and when Ambrose had tumbled his way in, he'd watched with barely-veiled amusement at how very lost he looked. Though no one else (not from the O.Z.) would know, Cain could see that Ambrose was likely never going to fully ingratiate himself into Othersider culture. Definitely not as easily as Cain was easing into it.
He sat up a little straighter and tugged on the lapels of his suit jacket to rearrange it and let it fall naturally into place as he shook his head. "Apparently, it's impolite to wear one indoors," he informed Ambrose with a 'who-knew?' tone.
He reached for his glass of water, gesturing across the table to the seat opposite, the one bearing a namecard with 'PROFESSOR AMBROSE BROWN' written on it. There was also a bottle of red and white wine on the table in a liter each to go with the floral centerpiece. Each table bore the well-planned design, but it was a nice touch that would last in everyone's minds well into the night.
"You look..." Cain took a moment to pause. "Nice." Normal, was the word he was going for, but saying it aloud could have been construed as an insult. Around them, people were mingling and saying their fond hellos with kisses on the cheek and questions about sons, daughters, pets, and jobs. Cain knew he should urge Ambrose to go join the circles (seeing as Cain had done a turn of the room already), but he couldn't bring himself to, so he just poured a glass of red wine for himself.
Ambrose made a 'huh' noise at the fact wearing a hat indoors was considered impolite, but his mind was only half on that. After all, he'd had to sit through one too many of Jane's baseball cap or hat or something rants. He was just sitting in the chair and leaning back, looking at Cain.
"Thank you, you look good too, but why are you here?" he asked, and glanced at the room full of small talk and useless chatter.
Even on the Otherside, people were stepping on top of each other to get one more step up the social ladder. He knew he should be out there playing the game, if only for appearing like he cared about the game in the first place, but Ambrose just frowned at them. "One of the best things that I've gotten out of bringing Azkadellia to Baker is avoiding events like this." Ambrose didn't know he'd said it aloud, he was so involved in watching and immediately assessing every person in the room.
Cain was already in the process of pouring a glass of wine in Ambrose's glass, seeing as he was used to doing this at home when they would break out the alcohol. Routine was easy and dinner together was one of those routines. The only difference was that this time, there wasn't a thirteen annual old and a six annual old around to demand anything. "Azkadellia and the committee wore me down," he admitted, picking up one of the cards with a scribbled addendum to the bottom.
In black cursive writing, it read: 'A Personal Day with Sheriff Wyatt Cain'.
"Az says I owe the community some support," Cain added, wine glass pressed to his lips before he took a sip of the liquid, staining his upper lip slightly.
Ambrose found himself smiling at that. He gave Cain a slight toast of thanks for pouring the wine (just like usual, really) and took a quick drink. He did, however, stop at the wine, and pick up the bottle. "...I didn't expect it to be good." He cleared his throat and moved on. "Well, you're a stronger man than I am. You managed to hold out for more than one request from Azkadellia." He shook his head, smiling. "I almost worry she's too good sometimes. But she does have a point. Being sheriff is all well and good, but you have to help the community pay for things that you then have to protect. It's this big circle of cause and effect in the economy. A big, obnoxious circle that gets people like you and me auctioned off for someone else's debts." Strangely enough, he didn't sound bitter. In fact, he sounded incredibly nervous, which he certainly was.
It was almost endearing to watch the slight awkwardness of the social setting and it was familiar in the way that Ambrose got when he discussed the theory of something or other and Cain couldn't pick out two strains of sense in all of it. So he leaned back against the window with his wine and crossed one leg over his knee, peering out amidst the crowd. "They’re not so bad. Just don't make eye contact and for the love of the gods, don't ask about anyone's pets or children."
He took a deep breath, looking back at the crowd. "So they're amateurs, then," Ambrose said lightly, not very surprised. He could deal with them and do it very easily, but still found himself glued to his seat. "Do I really need to?" Ambrose sounded more like a petulant Jeb than anything else when he asked.
Luckily for Cain, he'd spent many annuals dealing with a petulant and hesitant Jeb, so he knew how to deal well with this.
"Whoever buys you isn't going to hurt you, but it also wouldn’t hurt to butter up the crowd a little," Cain said, in that tone that said if anyone did even try and hurt him, there'd be Issues with the local law. "Besides, I don't exactly see tonight going any other way but Jane bidding on you with whatever she's got in the bank." He set the wine-glass down and pushed himself to his feet, rounding the table to crouch down in front of Ambrose and catch his gaze. "Hey," he exhaled, hands on his knees. "You really do have to," he admitted, now putting Operation-Placate-Not!Jeb into play. "Say hello. Kiss a cheek. Go compliment your girlfriend's dress," he reminded.
Ambrose stared at him. True, every point he brought up was valid, but there was one very large gaping hole in the thing.
"Cain, Jane said she wasn't coming. She has thirty-five papers to grade," he said, and then paused. "...well, she could have been lying of course, but thirty-five papers isn't exactly chump change or anything, especially the size of them."
He was wallpaper, nothing but wallpaper when he had a choice in the matter. Ambrose liked people, sure, but balls and social affairs had never been his favorite things. He was overly talented in politics and dancing, sure, but that didn't mean he liked them. Well, dancing was nice, but not in front of lots of people where you could slip up or be one beat too fast and ruin your partner's dress.
But this was Baker, and they knew him as that quirky but likeable Professor Ambrose Brown, so he sighed and nodded. The nod was quickly completed with a swig of wine, but he nodded again. "I can do that if I have to, then."
Cain shifted on the balls of his feet to readjust in order to not find himself sprawled out on the marble floor of the hall, giving Ambrose a wary look. He could have sworn he would have insisted Jane be there to make sure there was some certainty in place. Cain's attention was momentarily distracted when he saw Annie across the room in her spring-best and he brought himself back to attention with a nod. "You have to," Cain insisted, clapping Ambrose's shoulder tightly (mostly to help him to his feet).
He excused himself quietly, digging out his wallet and checkbook and going to speak with his coworker privately as he pointed out several things on the schedule as well as whispered quiet instructions to her ear that no one else could overhear.
Ambrose didn't have Cain to hide behind anymore, and he really did have to go out there and live just a few moments more in court-mode. He stood up just as gracefully as ever when he was nervous, and started on the outskirts of the group with some woman named Amelia, who was already intent on bidding on her husband, which still made little to no sense to Ambrose, but he kept smiling and chatting on. Amelia introduced him to her brother Paul, who was closer to the middle, and Paul's friends (who all complained about being dragged there by their girlfriends or wives who were just there to window shop, as a guy named Jason put it), and then the friends' friends, and Ambrose knew the whole bunch, put every name with every face, and hated every smile and perfectly-placed laugh he used to charm the pants (and many a skirt) off every single person at the auction. There wasn't a Jane Walker anywhere on the premises, which was a dismal fate in the making, but he'd done his job, which meant he was allowed to escape now.
In a social setting such like this one, the best escape was always the simplest, so he excused himself and headed for the restroom with a line that had them still chuckling and shaking their heads when he managed to get inside the empty bathroom, face chalk white. He put water on his face, he put water on the back of his neck, and he refused to vomit from the fact he'd had to do that to people who didn't even know what was happening to them.
He sighed, and set his forehead on the mirror. "I need to teach Azkadellia not to do that to innocent people," he muttered, completely honest and already wondering if it'd be too late. Maybe he should check up with her teachers, find out if his trust in her being just a little girl at school had been nothing but a dream. "After all, you can't take the blood out of the aristocrat."
It became clear after almost twenty minutes that Ambrose was nowhere to be found and they were trying to get everyone settled down. Cain excused himself one more time after checking to see that Annie understood what he'd been discussing with her. She gave an affirmative nod and Cain wound his way through the crowd and checked the holding area, the coat check, and finally the bathroom.
That was where he found Ambrose leaning against the mirror. Doing a quick survey, Cain made sure no one was in any of the stalls and then he locked the door, ignoring the announcement over the PA system that the first bids were starting.
"You look terrible," Cain said bluntly, tugging down several paper towels and running cold water on them before handing them to Ambrose (after checking for a temperature).
"Make up your mind, Cain," Ambrose said immediately, voice perfectly pitched for an amused best friend, eyes nothing but friendly and teasing. "First I look nice, then I look terrible. Did I ruin my hair or-"
Ambrose slammed his hand against the mirror, and he looked miserable once again, the entire facade gone in a flash. "Gods, I hate doing this. Royal Advisor who hates the royal part of his job," he muttered, and nodded his thanks for the towels, stuffing half of them in his mouth and the other half went on his head. After a few moments, he took the wad out of his mouth and the cloth off his head, and looked a bit sheepishly at Cain. "...sorry. And thank you. I'll be better now, just as long as I don't have to..." He just waved his hand out the bathroom door, doubting Cain would understand manipulate innocent Othersiders without a justifiable purpose from the wave. He still hoped, though. Cain tended to do better at things than Ambrose expected, after all.
Cain just brushed his thumb over Ambrose’s forehead again with a quiet sound of a laugh and a pitiable noise. "Be that man again?" Cain suggested. He'd had a view of Ambrose working the floor, just like everyone else. The difference was that no one else knew Ambrose as Royal Advisor to Queen of the whole O.Z. Cain removed his hand and gave Ambrose a wry smirk, stepping forward to inspect his own reflection -- brushing away a fleck of lint there, fixing his hair there (and he needed a haircut soon, the way it was growing and spiking in disarray).
"Be that man without a good reason," Ambrose stated, and frowned when Cain started fixing himself up. "Are you primping? Gods, Wyatt Cain is primping." He blinked. "That just..." Ambrose shook his head. "I don't think I'm ever going to apply that word to you again. Not even I primp."
"How about focusing on how you're the most-wanted not-bachelor out there?" he said calmly, craning his head to the side to catch Ambrose's gaze. "If we were getting these funds directly, we could probably put an addition on the damn house on what you’re projecting to earn alone."
Ambrose waited for him to finish with the mirror before responding to Cain's statement, considering he really, really didn't want to focus on that. "Which do you think they'll be bidding on, Cain, me or the man I just made them think I am?"
Cain turned his attention away from the mirror and lifted one shoulder in an effortless shrug, now looking a bit intentionally disheveled (at least, from the neck-up). He tugged Ambrose by the upper-arm to the door and unlocked it. "I can say with complete confidence that it's you they'll be bidding on," he guaranteed.
Ambrose scowled a bit at the tugging, but went through the door without any other form of protest, shrugging Cain off as they walked back. He sighed. "Why do I always end up listening to you when the kids aren't involved? You usually act like an idiot, and yet here I am getting herded towards the table again." He shook his head, glancing over at Cain. "You're just very, very strange."
"It's how I keep you from getting bored with me."
It might have come off light and joking, but there was just the slightest note of seriousness in Cain's tone that bespoke the truth of that statement. Ambrose was eccentric himself and Cain found himself in many a situation where he wondered when the day would come when he would grow tired of him, when Azkadellia would find someone better to look up to.
"And I am not," Cain pointed out with a mild growl, cutting through the back of the room while the emcee was announcing the fifth bachelor of the night (a local lawyer with freckles and red hair), "an idiot."
"I didn't say you were an idiot," Ambrose snapped back quietly, rolling his eyes. "I said you act like one. You're plenty smart, you just don't..." Ambrose paused, trying to find the most polite way to phrase it. "You just don't seem to take logic into account a lot of the time. You're very...spur-of-the-moment when it comes to some things."
Ambrose figured that would do for now, and watched the proceedings, doing a very good job at not visibly wincing at every bid.
Cain slid back into his chair and neither of them had drawn much attention, seeing as they were cheering off the successful bid and the next one was already lining up on the block (Cain knew this one, seeing as he was one of his coworkers and Lambton ate this up every year they did this). He just sipped at his wine, glancing at Ambrose and keeping an attentive eye on him. "You could use some of that spur-of-the-moment attitude," he said. "Objectively. You plan too much."
Cain got a flicker of a smile at that. "You do remember what my old job was, right? Spontaneous actions or decisions aren't something I'm very good at. If I don't plan, who will?" Ambrose knew he was staring, but Lambton was actually flexing muscles and generally acting like this was nothing but a big game. Maybe it was, but he still quirked an eyebrow up at Cain. "You work with some very interesting people, Cain."
"Keyword, old job," Cain stressed, quietly, not wanting to disturb Lambton's...bravado. He sighed deeply when there was a show of dropping his pen and showing off. "Oh for..." he muttered and shook his head. “I think he's half-drunk. I hope he's half-drunk," he added.
Besides, as soon as Lambton was through, Cain was the one being carted up there and he hadn't drank enough to be at ease up there.
"I'm hoping he's completely drunk, at this rate," Ambrose snickered when the man started to pantomime stripping. The women were eating it up, giggling and upping the bid. Ambrose wondered if they'd have him act like an idiot for their day. Certainly sounded tempting to Ambrose, at least, if Lambton actually happened to be sober. He looked over at Cain, taking a quick drink out of his wine glass. "I missed what the order is. Who goes next and when are we thrown on the auction block?"
Cain hid his grin behind a glass of water, knowing it wasn't right to laugh at one of coworkers and he picked up the order of things, handing it over to Ambrose. "Me next, and they're wrapping up the show by saving the best for last."
Ambrose's mouth opened as he checked the list. They'd gotten through six auctions while he'd been having his little self-hate party in the bathroom, and now there was nobody but Cain, and then him.
"...well. That was unexpected," he said lightly, and gave Cain a very slight small. "Good luck?"
Cain shrugged, like he didn't have a care in the world, and relaxed back into his chair. "I imagine that I'll go easily enough. I doubt much of a fuss'll get raised." After all, it wasn't as if he'd gone around giving the town the same treatment Ambrose got or the attention the kids did.
Ambrose just stared at Cain. "...you do know you're attractive and capable of carrying a good conversation, right? Five minutes of bidding, minimum."
"You gonna be okay while I’m gone?" he checked quietly. Because frankly, the notion of having to run off the stage to deal with a freaking-out Ambrose was something that really didn't need to happen.
He nodded. "I'm not exactly manipulating people by standing in front of them. I'll be fine." So long as nobody did anything stupid. And the damn suit was getting itchy again and just feeling wrong.
Cain exhaled a long sigh as Lambton was shuffled off (raffled off to one of the town's older widows, which frankly, made Cain damn amused) and stood himself when he was announced, giving Ambrose a half-there smile and a quiet, "good luck, okay?" before making his way up to the stage and lifting a hand to wave, trying not to look too awkward as his credentials (half-phony, half-genuine) were read out and he didn't mind so much when Jeb was brought up, seeing as that evoked a genuine smile.
And then the bidding began and Cain had honestly never felt more like a piece of meat than in that moment. It took all his reserves not to pull a face at the whole process and he knew if he did, he'd get a lecture from someone or other, so he just behaved and hoped Annie would remember what he'd told her earlier about the auction after him.
The bidding started out as nice and polite as it had been for every other bachelor, but one of the women suddenly shouted out a bid, followed by just about three other shouts. It got fierce between those four, and Ambrose found himself staring. It reminded him of women having the most vicious game of bumper-cars ever, for some reason. Finally it was a fifth woman, one recognizable as Jeb's teacher, stood up and bid. She bid very, very high.
The gavel slammed down almost immediately, and Ambrose found himself wondering what exactly had really happened on that date and if he needed to worry about Cain's virtue for some reason.
The moment the gavel came down, Cain exhaled a long sigh of relief and gave Miss Miller something of a wink and a half-there smile for saving him, signing his name on a sheet that was required for the intents and purposes of the auction. He made his way through the crowd to press a kiss to her cheek and murmur a 'thank you' before going back to the table and standing right in front of Ambrose.
"Don't worry," was all Cain said, making instant eye contact with the other man.
"Well, we could already afford one addition onto the house. Might as well get two," Ambrose said lightly, and stood up with that grace that meant he was thinking about something else, namely standing up and having women shout out how much he was worth.
He was walking gracefully too, which was never a good sign for anyone who knew Ambrose. He'd taken to just idly strolling everywhere, not gliding and keeping his back straight and all those Royal Advisor-y things. He hated his suit, he felt like an idiot, and he was already running a hand through his hair when the bidding started, but he forced a smile through it all.
Cain settled back into his seat in the midst of the first bids and he barely even reacted as he heard the antagonistic tone of some of the women. Up and up the dollar amount went and Cain wasn't surprised in the least. He was just very, very patient as he watched the wives and the women of the town bid on him and occasionally, one man in the crowd.
Cain just checked his watch and sipped at his wine while the number got fairly high and by that alone, the college would have no issue making their repairs. It was then that he leaned back, lifted a hand over his head and lightly tapped on the glass of the window, a signal to Annie.
Annie, bless her sweet heart, stood up and gave a bid that was three times the highest current bid. She smiled that adorable 'aw shucks' smile she had as she turned to all points of the room. "Station-bidding," she explained, and no one seemed to want to go higher than that, so the gavel was slammed down and Cain contented himself to finishing off his glass of the not-so-bad-wine.
Ambrose was so surprised by that he ended up staying on the block for almost half a minute, only to smile and nod at Annie, and then walk very, very quickly over to the table. He stared. He stared for a very, very long time.
"...you bought me?" he managed to ask, and shook his head, grabbing the white wine and pouring a very large amount into the other wineglass. "You bought me. I was bought by the police, and Wyatt Cain."
Ambrose's only real reaction to that was to stare for a moment, and then down the wine in one gulp, glass completely empty when he set it down and went back to staring.
Cain listened carefully and gave a thoughtful nod. "I am Wyatt Cain, yes," he agreed, eyeing Ambrose up and down. "Besides. The boys could use some theory given to them and who better to give it to them than the star lecturer from Baker College?" When he said it like that, it came off completely natural.
He watched the glass of wine carefully, taking the bottle and shifting it to the other side of the table, just barely out of Ambrose's reach.
Ambrose just rolled his eyes at moving the wine - he hadn't been even remotely close to drunk or having any intention of getting there - and slouched back in his chair, any and all sense of the Royal Advisor completely gone. He crossed his arms, eyeing Cain, and bit the side of his lower lip.
The nod of agreement was barely there. "Fine."
He was back to looking like a petulant child, really, and Cain finished his glass of wine and filled it to the brim with the procured white, sipping it as he relaxed back into the chair. "We'll see you there bright and early next Friday. Oh and, Ambrose?" Cain said, leaning over the table. "Seeing as we did earn you fair and square, we," meaning Cain, "would love if you wore that one jacket of yours. The one you like wearing to class."
With that, he gave Ambrose one last smile and finished his glass of wine, getting up from the table to do the proper circulations and rounds that were right after an evening like that.
Every once in a while, he would look back Ambrose's way and smile broadly. Just every once in a while.
--
The last day of Ambrose’s class, Azkadellia walked in right next to her ‘uncle’ in her usual elaborate hairstyle and a more intricate dress than usual today, in honor of the occasion (and in mourning for the countries she was about to decimate). It nearly hit the floor, and she looked exactly like the princess she was. Not that the class which had been seated and fidgeting for probably at least fifteen minutes before class actually started knew that. They only saw a little girl chatting away with their professor.
“And you remember I asked you to be polite about it?” Ambrose asked. “This is kind of practice for you. Making decisive political movements isn’t something you can really try out around here.”
“I remember, Ambrose,” she said simply. The girl hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d started walking to the college, and Ambrose would have been worried if it weren’t for the fact he knew that smile, since it came right off her mother’s face. It was the excited-but-trying-to-not-be smile, so Ambrose grinned, pulling out a chair from nearby and setting it close to the center of where he usually walked around and lectured or explained things and did all that professor-y stuff that he was apparently pretty good at now.
He stood up in front of them all, smiling, and he could practically hear the crinkling of cloth as people leaned forward. “Now. This is Azkadellia, my niece. I’ve told her to be polite to all of you, and I expect the same courtesy from my class.” When he didn’t continue, there were nods and murmurs of agreement, and Ambrose nodded back. “To review, your group will stand up and give the basic form of your government, and if she asks for it, you’ll present the map too. You all chose your official debate leader by now, hopefully, because that person is now the leading party in your government. President, royalty, dictator, village guru, it doesn’t matter.” Ambrose looked back at Azkadellia, who had pulled out a legal pad and pen from his briefcase, and grinned. “Class, it’s been an honor working with you. Azkadellia?”
She simply stepped forward, looking as delicate as a porcelain doll, smiling at them all. Ambrose just set himself down in the chair, smiling and ready to watch. “Hello. I assume you have a set order to go in?”
The class shifted, and a group - for the first time, Azkadellia noticed groups all had relatively similar colored shirts. She figured that was yet another thing of Ambrose’s doing - stood up. They paused, but then a short girl with blond hair began speaking. “Our government is a theocracy, ruled by a religion that has most of its major precepts circling the concept that death is a sacred thing. The people are brought into it and taught in schools about the religion, and the ruler is…well. Sacrificed every ten years. There’s no class system, aside from priests being above everyone else and the ruler being above the priests.”
At which point, they simply waited.
Azkadellia tilted her head to the side. “So am I to understand there’s no class system due to oppression by the priests and the ruler?”
The girl - and, in fact, the entire group - blinked. “Ah, no, they are all taught that every job is as important as every other, aside from religious duties.”
“And a man in charge of cleaning out sewers will think he is as loved and cherished in this theocracy as a doctor. Are they all paid the same?”
“There is no currency,” the girl said, chin rising as she realized that yes, in fact, Azkadellia knew what she was doing.
Azkadellia raised an eyebrow at that fact. “So they have a barter system?”
“No, there’s just no need for currency,” the girl insisted. “They work for the good of their ruler and the religion. They can’t think of anything else, the schools take care of that.”
“I believe you’re underestimating humanity, then,” Azkadellia said simply. “How is your ruler chosen?”
“At random,” a boy in the group spoke up. “The current ruler picks a priest at random when he has reached the start of his rule, and that priest takes the first child born in their territory. There’s a three-ruler cycle. You take the title at twenty, you are sacrificed at thirty by the next ruler.”
“And these brain-washed families are happy to give over their child with the knowledge that they will be killed at thirty for divinity, with no protest,” Azkadellia said, voice going a bit dark.
“Az,” Ambrose warned, and she just nodded.
“I’m afraid that no matter how well trained you may have your population, there will eventually be questions into the faith. If there’s a war with another country, the people who return won’t find anything divine in the carnage. In fact, one man surviving a near-death experience and telling people about it - it’s not always a white light, after all - could topple your theocracy.” She paused. “It’s an intriguing idea though.”
“But-”
“You get an A on my side,” Ambrose interrupted, and looked over at Azkadellia. “Your opinion?”
“Interesting idea, good theories, just underestimated humanity. Too much optimism or too naïve.” She smiled. “So yes. A.”
“You sound like your mother,” Ambrose smiled, and Azkadellia blushed slightly, barely managing to stop a curtsy at the compliment. He looked over at the theocracy group. “Excellently done, by the way.”
The blonde girl frowned. “But we got crushed by a kid in middle school.”
“No, you got crushed by my niece,” Ambrose corrected. “Most of my experience in the field runs in the family.”
There was a collective groan at that, along with some profanity from the groups that had yet to go. Ambrose just chuckled. “Next.”
And with a sigh, the next group got up. Azkadellia politely massacred them all with wars and assassinations and all the most basic precepts of humanity. Or at least, most of the worst ones. Ambrose ended up stopping it around three-fourths of the way through.
“If it makes you feel any better, I now intend to teach a bit of sociology and psychology in the next session of the class,” he said, grinning at the sighs and whining of the class.
Azkadellia laughed too, smiling back at him, because they both knew it probably wouldn’t help much anyway against a Princess of the O.Z. or the Royal Advisor. They’d practically been trained from birth for this stuff, which was why nearly everyone got an A, aside from one group, made up of one person.
“An absolute monarchy-”
“Explosion,” Azkadellia had said blankly, and the girl had just stared for a moment, and sat down quietly. They didn’t smile for a while after that.
Ambrose gave her a B anyway, because they were just kids, all of them, and if she hadn’t picked that governing system she might have had a chance. The O.Z. had magic, where the Otherside had nothing but their wits to protect them. And after everything he’d seen, Ambrose was beginning to wonder if even magic could save their home.
tbc