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Damage Control

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***

Chapman had certainly acknowledged Lyra's restlessness. He knew that being idle was against her nature. Yet the desire to both protect and monitor her until the dust had settled took priority over her anxiety.

It's not permanent, he had reassured her when he placed her on "light duty". Give me until the end of the month to get these affairs in order, we'll get back to... "business as usual".

"I have a meeting at 12:15 with Smith. I'd like for Val to take you to my home for the night.. Nobody will be there, and it will be safe."

Even with Reggie securely relocated, Chapman was still on edge. Reggie's direct reports (or gammas) had been his first priority. Gammas were regularly rotated out among the betas to ensure balance; each beta had a different set of skills to teach and reinforce. Still, Chapman needed to discern whether or not Reggie had planned this or if it was completely spontaneous, and that there was no discord among the ranks.

"Huh..."

It's funny, I guess. Grow up believing werewolves are monsters, and you don't think about them having kids or litters in a connotation that isn't a horror movie. I don't know. It implies a certain level of faith about the future I've ever been known to possess. I was probably the weird one out in this gang of idealists. Clay certainly seemed to believe there was something worth passing on.

I almost missed his next question. It caught me off guard, just as I'm sure he'd been intending. A subtle glance aside was all he needed to know what I had for breakfast, never mind my relationship status. I'm an honest creature in that way, I guess. A very honest creature, that happened to work with lie detectors.

"Fury huh? Careful there Clay, you're just adding to my nicknames...I might just get comfortable with that one"

I leaned back, "No. Nothing like that".

"Aw come on, it's good right? Fury." Clay laughed.

"Nothing like that huh?" the man asked, then followed it up with a tsk tsk tsk. "Give me a week, I'll get you a date. I got you."

I was taking a sip on my coffee as he said it and almost choked on it.

"Maybe not next week.  I'm still getting a lay of the land - frankly, I'm a mess that I need to sort out first".

I swallowed the rest of the coffee down, "Do you have someone, or do you just happen to know an army of single women?"

"Suit yourself." Clay shrugged. "I'll find you one who can cook though - you don't need to be eating beans and eggs every day. That's bad news for everyone around you."

Clay pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car, then raised an eyebrow, looking at Val with an expression that said "you don't think I could find someone?" - and he held it for an uncomfortably long time and then laughed.

He climbed out of the car and put his large arms on the hood, waiting for Val to come out before he continued.

"No, not me. Dated, but, uh.. truthfully - I'm just picky. Real picky. They keep telling me to lower my expectations, nobody perfect exists. Naw. I know what I want, nothing wrong with that. Mercer on the other hand, knows every eligible lady in town. You should ask him."

I watched his face and swagger and resisted the urge to grimace against it. There's two people in this world I guess, those with far too much confidence and those without. I suppose it would serve him well as the new sheriff in town... and less so on his love life.

"So what you're saying is both of you are hopeless," I climbed out of the car and closed it behind me, "And I probably shouldn't take dating advice from either of you".

"Oooh, ok, now you're coming out of your shell!" he put a hand over his heart as if he wounded, but the grin said otherwise. "I like it. You catch on quick!" Clay laughed again and pointed a finger at Val.

He turned and began inside, still shaking his head, talking to himself but not so quiet Val couldn't hear, "He can play, okay, this is gonna be good."

I'd clearly just signed myself up to be barbequed and picked apart later by his wit.  But after spending the last seven years 24-7 with Robin, there wasn't much he could do that she hadn't already.  It was a dog-eat-dog world out there and I'd trained with the best.

I followed him inside. Clay worried me a lot less than Chapman. I wasn't used to seeing the man this serious and didn't welcome it. When you stripped away his jokes and smiles, beneath it was something so deadly cool that you just hoped you'd stay on its good side.

Clay didn't go to Chapman first, but he did check his watch and note the time - he had about five minutes. Tara's office was further down the hall, but that was the way he went. He knocked, and peered through the one of the narrow corrugated glass windows that garnished either side of her door. He could make out her figure on the phone, and she made a gesture for him to come in.

Her office was small, packed high with file boxes stacked on top of file cabinets. She sat at a desk with two computer screens and was quickly typing information onto one screen, a series of nonchalant "yes, no, okay, got it's" coming out of her mouth.  Between them she managed to sip one of the giant cups of coffee while two empty ones sat off to the side.

"Yeah, got it, good, bye. Thirty seconds, Officer Smith." she raised up her tawny brown eyes from beneath her frizzy fringe.

"My man's eating beans and eggs every day. Can you get him an advance on his paycheck?"

Tara's eyes went immediately to a calendar and she strummed her perfectly manicured fingers on the desk once,

"I can do a weeks salary, rents not due yet." she clicked around on her computer screen, "Legally.... making this out to, Valentine Grayson..?" she asked, but it was more of a statement-she had all of the information in front of her already. He didn't get the opportunity to respond before the printer on her desk began whirring and groaning with the cries of the souls of the doomed, and out came a check, which was torn from the perforated paper and neatly tucked into an envelope. She held it out, but waited for Valentine to take it.

Clay was already giggling to himself about the first name and stood out of the doorway for Val to grab the envelope.

Legally, my name may as well have been Rumplestiltskin Von Carmen the Third of Toronto.  There were days I'd wished I'd done something better when I had the chance to, but that would require settling on a name with any feeling of permeance. Stone-eyed, I nodded, thanked Tara, and did my best to ignore the little giggles erupting from Clay's mouth. For a man that was supposedly going to be my superior, he seemed to giggle more than you'd expect.

I guess that put our score squarely at 1:1 - and I'd no doubt Valentine would be slipping into a number of puns.

"I'll give you a point if you come up with any new material," I mumbled, putting the envelope into my wallet without bothering to look at the amount, "I've heard it all by now".

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