dresdenforhire | For lilorphanmaggie - Take Your Daughter To Work Day

For lilorphanmaggie - Take Your Daughter To Work Day

When you're a wizard that used to be on retainer with the Chicago PD you don't get called in for the fun cases. It's never, "Dresden, someone has delivered a bunch of cute puppies at the all you can eat buffet during a supermodel luncheon and we need you to investigate". No, it's always something that's gone really horrible. Not just weird but usually violent and gory. When that happens I put on my wizard hat and go earn my paycheck. Only I don't actually have a hate. Well, I do but it's a Cubs hat so not really all that magical.

I haven't been on retainer with the Chicago PD for a while, though that doesn't mean I still don't get asked to look at cases on the down low. The down low comes with considerably less cash but as the Winter Knight I don't have the cash flow problem I used to have. It's not exactly a job but seeing as how Mab shudders at the idea of her Knight being homeless and half starved unless it's because she wants them to be I get something of a stipend. I'm not sure what the limit is because my needs are pretty simple. Clothes, a vehicle, and a place to heat up SpaghettiOs on the stove.

I kind of wish I'd forgone the SpaghettiOs this time though since the scene was a particularly gruesome one. A lot of people don't know how much mass a human body has, especially when you spread it all out. And someone spread these bodies out all over the 16th hole of a golf course in the suburbs. I feel bad for the foursome that was the first to run into it because they clearly didn't know what they'd found until they'd taken several steps into the muck.

The police wouldn't have even had any way to identify the victims until DNA came back except they found a few phones among the remains. They hadn't given me the names exactly but I just happened to overhear what they were saying when I'd planted a magical bug (it was spider) by the command tent that relayed what they were saying. I'd recognized the names instantly as a gang of magical bullies that lived in the surrounding areas. Kind of like the Alphas only the opposite. The Omegas maybe? Bad Alphas? Assholes? Yeah, I was going to go with the Assholes. They were small time, too small time to ping the White Council but still trouble. Not so much trouble that they deserved whatever happened to them. I can think of only a few people that I'd wish a fate like that on and even then I'd feel a bit bad about it.

I needed to find out if everyone in the Assholes had been killed though but I wasn't exactly sure where they'd go to ground after this. People tended to not be particularly open when talking to the Winter Knight/Warden/Rogue Wizard/Me. Fortunately I knew someone that just might know something like that.

I had one of the members of the Za-Lords army send a quick message to Molly (I refused to think of her as the Winter Lady because she deserved to be remembered as a person) and asked her to phone my daughter. Cell phones don't play very nice with me but Molly and Maggie can handle them just fine. Once that was done I headed to Mac's to have a drink and wait for Maggie to show up, assuming she would.

We had a complicated relationship. Really complicated. If they could keep the cameras from exploding we would have been on the E! network with the Kardashians. But I loved her more than she might ever understand, even if I was terrible about showing it, and hoped that she wouldn't resent me for asking her to come along. Selfishly I hoped she would take it as a sign of faith that I thought she could handle this sort of thing.

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"Geez, all Lady or the Tiger over here, huh?" They could sit in non-awkward silence. Despite her love for music, Margaret actually doesn't mind silence and she rarely feels awkward just sitting next to Harry not speaking. He would probably have mixed feelings over the fact that Margaret doesn't spend a whole lot of time thinking about Harry, and that's not to be insulting, he does come up quite a bit but it's not like she dedicates a set number of minutes thinking of how Harry is a shitty dad. She doesn't think that actually, it's more that he doesn't necessarily feel like a dad to her.

Which comes with it's own issues.

"Really?" But oh my god, he compliments her on the jacket and for a moment she very obviously lights up with pride and pleasure. A lot of time and effort was spent on the jacket, something cool but protective and she is insanely proud of how it turned out. Sure, it could be tweaked a bit but such as it is it's not too bad. Ducking her head to hide that immediate reaction she runs her hands over the sleeves and then the denim chest. "Thanks, I spent a lot of time on it, I think it's pretty cool looking." And the jacket itself cost like, five bucks, so let's give a shout out to thrifting.

He's just knocking them out of the park here today. Head lifts and hungry eyes widen, hand automatically shooting out. "Heck yeah, I would love to drive." She can, stick, automatic, all of the above, but since she doesn't have her own car she doesn't get to drive as much as she'd like. "Thanks!"

Being an absentee father is hard. Not as hard as being an actual father probably but it comes with its own hardships if you wish you didn't have to be an absentee father. It will never feel as good as being a "real" dad, I know that. I know that and I'll still never stop trying to be the best father I can- within the boundaries that Maggie will let me because obviously she had a say in all that. She's her own person and can make decisions about that and some of those decisions keep me at arms length and that hurts, even if I understand why and agree that in ways it's probably best.

But there are times when all the effort pays off. Times like when she lights up at my compliment and my heart soars and hurts all at once in the way that only love can do. The sort of love that is bigger than anything you can even comprehend but leaves you so vulnerable. Completely worth it though.

"It's very cool looking. Getting one with a hood is a really good idea. Good enough that I kind of want to steal the idea," I said, tossing the keys at her with a weird sense of pride. She's a smart girl and I knew that most of that had to do with her mother and the Carpenters but I'm still proud. "Also, try to not get a ticket otherwise the Winter Court will make it disappear and I hate letting them have anything like that over my head."

As cool and withdrawn as Margaret is there a pretty significant portion of her that desperately wants to have all his time, all his attention. To be the utter center of his world. Little Maggie was the same way, with him, with The Carpenter's. But there are more things in Harry's world that are more pressing in a way that a forest fire ten miles from the center of town is more pressing than a child waiting to spend time with their parent at home. It's an easy but difficult decision to make.

It just so happened that the world was going to shit when she showed up and Michael was retired and there. Even he was, through no fault of his own, arms length as well. Unwilling to overstep or overshadow Harry. And that was kind of him. But there's this gap and it's so hard to speak up and say: I need this. At least for Margaret.

When he's proud of her, oh boy does it reminder her how desperately she wants his love and approval. Now, with the compliment still fresh, and that tingling feeling crawling over her skin, she loves it, wants more. Later, when things have cooled down it will seem like a moment of weakness. If that assessment is correct or not it depends on your point of view.

"By all means," she catches the keys and moves over to the driver's side. "Though it can get in the way, obscure side vision, so that's something to keep in mind. Looks cool af though." Unlocking the door she wrenches it open and then crawls over to unlock his side. "Fuck the Winter Court," Margaret agrees. "Give the Fae nothing and take nothing from them. Don't worry," she grins at him from over the center console. "I am a fantastic driver."

"It's not you I'm worried about, it's everyone else. Personally I've never wrecked a vehicle. I've just happened to be behind the wheel many, many times when other drivers, demons, werewolves, and other supernatural entities have caused the vehicle I was driving to crash. Which is completely different," I said as I climbed up into the cab of the Jeep. It was a good, solid vehicle and perfect for a wizard like me. They were built to function in a wide variety of rough situations so that meant less of a chance for my magic to short everything else or cause other types of catastrophes. As much as I miss the Blue Beetle the Green .... something (I've been a bit busy to come up with a name) is a better vehicle for me. Also, I can fit in it a lot better.

"We're going to head south from here and take a right on seventh street."

"Yeah, no, I am totally sure the insurance company agreed with you on that and didn't raise your rate or classify you as a total risk. I bet that little gecko didn't know what to do with you." Bag gets put in the back as she eases into the driver's seat and adjusts it a little bit because as leggy as she is she isn't Harry Dresden leggy.

Then the seat belt. Then the mirrors because we need to see what's around us. Then the windows because it's hot and she likes the breeze. What's cooler than being cool?

Finally she turns the engine over, fiddles with the stick, grinds the gears a couple of times (because of course she did she's never driven this before). Then backs out of the spot and parking lot, following his directions.

"It was my mechanic that was always tearing his hair out. Usually I didn't want to be around when it was time for the insurance companies to investigate whatever had happened," I said. I always liked to imagine that there was one person that just happened to get assigned all the situations that I'd been involved with and they were just tearing out their hair trying to figure out what had happened. Because props to that person if they could guess "giant magical scorpion" or "demonic feces throwing ape".

"I would make fun of you for how cautious you're being in an attempt to get you to continue to be so as an act of rebellion but you're stubbornly too much your own person to fall for that," I told her, admiring how well she handled it all. I would guess that she was trying to show me how trusted she could be with the vehicle but I could see shades of Michael and Charity Carpenter in the whole process. It made me smile.

"Best AND worst job ever," and because she is his daughter (despite having these moments of uncertainty and shyness toward that idea) the same scenario pops into her head. The guy kind of looks like Butters actually, maybe a little bit taller and with more suits but still very similar.

"A car is not a toy," clearly this is a Carpenter line. "A car is a powerful machine that should be respected." There may or may not have been a litany that was repeated before and after each driving lesson. There is a mild streak of rebellion in the young woman but not when it comes to driving. God, wouldn't that be ironic, a world filled with supernatural shit looking to kill and she dies in a car accident because she wasn't paying attention at a red light.

But when they are on the road there is some relaxing, a hand on the wheel the other on the stick. "Where are we going? What's the plan?"

I was glad that she took driving seriously. I'm pretty sure that Maggie took just about anything that involved the safety of others seriously. People dealt with trauma in a lot of ways and a lot of them are destructive, both to themselves and others. Whatever Maggie does though I feel like I can be reassured that she'll choose options that don't hurt others. At least not if they don't deserve it.

"We're going somewhere that will have all the answers we need to find out quarry," I said, purposely being obtuse and mysterious just because I can. I kind of get it now why the old, wise people always do that. Because it's fun as hell and keeps you from getting too bored. "Then we come up with a plan together to approach wherever she's hiding. I have a few ideas but a few more can't hurt."

It's not my usual M.O. but that no one said it was against the rules for me to grow and mature as a person. A lot of times people end up looking to me for the grand plan but I'm starting to wonder if that's not because they know I'm so stubborn I'll just do what I want anyway. Not exactly a good look.

"I could probably swagger up to the front door and drag her out but I'd prefer not to. If we can convince her together that we're there to help I'd prefer to do that."

By and large Margaret isn't into inflicting pain on to others because she, herself, has been hurt. There is some resentment there at times, some jealousy, but she doesn't strive to actually hurt people. Generally. Ever since turning eighteen things have gotten a little weird at times. Sometimes there is a feeling that sort of swells over her, that clamps on to the animal part of her brain and makes her teeth feel sharp and nasty. It feels like something is slipping over her skin and muscles.

Not something she likes to talk about. At all.

"That is a super wizardy response, just so you know, so you can appreciate my side eye." That he can't actually see because she's got those dark glasses on. "Just so long as you give me enough notice for turns and merges, I'm here driving Ms. Daisy." Harry should be sitting in the back for that reference, but taking a few liberties is fine in this situation.

"So you're general plan is to talk first, blast second? I'm not against it, but I am asking first so it doesn't get awkward later. Because: full disclosure, I hate her and hope all her hair falls out, she's a bitch."

I couldn't help it, I laughed at her comment. It was so frank and honest and snarky it was like hearing my own comments and I happen to think I'm very clever and funny. Maybe not something she'd be pleased to hear about but it's true all the same. Also, I was glad to hear that she hoped her hair falls out and not that she was going to make her hair fall out.

"Look, you can't just go blasting everyone you hate that's a terrible person. If I did that... you know, let's not talk about if anyone would be able to tell the difference. But- take a left at the next light- that could work to your advantage. I'm guessing she hates you too?"

Turn signal on, she carefully merges into the correct lane to take the turn at the light but is frankly caught off guard by Harry's laugh. She hasn't really heard him laugh that often, given his mantel and profession this isn't exactly surprising, he doesn't have a whole lot to laugh about. It's an interesting sound, does it sound like her laugh? Maybe? A little bit? Hard to actually tell to be honest.

"Listen, if I was absolute arbiter of justice things would be a lot better around here. I'm just saying." Only a Margaret speaks in absolutes. And she is not yet self aware enough to realize that by going down such a path she would probably turn into the thing she hated the most. "I don't know -" pause, some thought, another turn signal. "Yeah, she fucking hates me. It's a good litmus test, if a bully hates you then you know you're doing the Lord's work."

Which reminds her. "This has nothing to do with anything really, but do you know how one goes about becoming a warden?"

"Well it's good to know that your decision making is flawless and you won't fall into the sort of trap that all other people who have uttered that statement have fallen into," I said with a nod. I'm pretty sure that she doesn't want any sort of morality lesson - or any lesson at all - from me but I couldn't not say anything. I remembered what it was like to be that age and seeing all the injustices in the world and knowing that if you were just in the right position you could fix all of them. And I would never want to take that passion away from her because I know that she could do good. I know she does do good. I just want her to be careful.

"Good. If she hates you then that's a familiar target for her anger. You're a known quantity which will hopefully help her feel more comfortable."

Her question caught me off guard because... well because that's a hell of a career path to start inquiring about. And even if she said it had nothing to do with anything I can't help but wonder if talking about being an absolute arbiter of justice and asking about becoming a Warden isn't connected.

"Well... you become a part of the White Council. You get yourself recognized... then a bunch of politics happen and maybe you get chosen. The circumstances are often different each time. Or... a bunch of Wardens die and they get desperate and ask kids to do it."

And that way? That way hurts. Because those kids died because of me and the war I started. I did the right thing, I know I did, but that doesn't mean that some of that blood isn't on my head. And I hope no more of that blood falls on Maggie.

MARGARET DRESDEN KNOWS SARCASM WHEN SHE HEARS IT, HARRY. "It most certainly is, and I am happy and appreciate that you are acknowledging it." She's not going to win this sarcasm battle, but goddammit she is going to not go down without a fight. And being eighteen doesn't lend itself to seeing his point, or considering that she might be wrong, it's the way the brain is wired. Even Margaret's generally self aware brain.

On the plus side he doesn't generally have to worry about her actually becoming an absolute arbiter of justice. Unless the White Counsel takes an interest in her of course.

"You think so? You don't think that she won't just be more suspicious or come out swinging?" Behind dark frames, eyes narrow in thought, better her than some random stranger - they do have some common ground on which to stand. Even if that ground was an after school fight.

At a red light Margaret gives a glance over at Harry and then back at the road, thumb lightly tapping on the wheel. "Huh, that's kind of cool. They go through training, right? A boot camp maybe? Though the way they seemingly arbitrarily swing those swords around maybe they don't." Because of course Margaret has an issue with the gray cloaks, their zero tolerance policy is questionable.

"I'm sure the White Council... actually any of the Councils, would be glad to rate you among their number with that sort of thinking," I told her pleasantly. And that's all I was going to say on that subject and just let her stew on that for a while. Or completely ignore it as the moralizing of her old man. Either way I'm not too worried about her becoming some sort of vigilante or despot.

"No, you're a known quantity enemy. There's been what... verbal barbs and maybe some pranks exchanged between you two? You're a low-grade enemy and she might lash out at you as a convenient target at worst she'll think you've come by to gloat about the death of her friends. One last turn on the right up here."

By now I figure she'll probably get that we're headed to the library. It is the place where we'll have access to all of our questions. Well, at least about where to find our quarry.

"There is a boot camp. I ran it for a while. It was... whatever you think about the Wardens, most of them want to do good. They want to keep people safe from bad magic. They don't always get it right but their hearts are in the right place. At least when they start out."

"Wow," a glance, a double glance. "The temperature dropped like ten degrees over here with that shade, brrrr!" A fake shiver, but like, for real though. Damn Harry Dresden.

Do not mention the time you egged her house. Do not mention that one time you trashed her car and drive way. "Yeah, something like that." Nice job, brain, no need for details now, just do the driving and listening. "I suppose you're right, I mean she could also be tits out crazy, so, you know." The turn signal clicks on: "though I never saw her as one to go mad. Too col, a reptilian brain that focused doesn't have the capacity for it, going mad takes imagination."

Ah, indeed, the library, the fount of all knowledge and questionable smells. Already the hunt is on for a parking spot.

"You ran it? Really?" Another set of double glances at least she isn't giving him a semi-obscured hard look this time. "What was it like?"

I couldn't really respond to the shade comment because... well, I was absolutely throwing some shade. So I'm glad she caught it and can now choose to completely ignore it but I've done my part. Planted the seed and all of that. Now it's up to the universe to pile a bunch of crap on the seed to fertilize it so that it can grow.

I really hope that "tits out crazy" is just an expression and not something literal because I cannot deal with that right now. I have had enough circumstances where that has been literal and that has never been a pleasant experience. A cool, reptilian brain sounds equally dangerous, just in a different way. But I can use that to our advantage, I do have a bit of experience with that sort of thing. That's for later though.

"It was awful. It was- it was during the fight with the Red Court. We were desperate. A lot of them weren't any older than you and they were- they were targeted. Better to face a Warden when they're young and new, right? Don't let them get good at the job. It was mostly on-the-job training."

Oh man. Ever noped so hard out of a conversation that you just basically shut down?

It feels like every part of her just sort of loses consciousness. A cold and blank tangle of parts: the darkest sea on a moonless night. It would be startling if such a feeling could be felt, just how powerless she was against it. Like a hypnosis victim on stage acting out the suggestion that he or she is a chicken on stage she allows this shut down to take her over.

How she parks the car properly is a goddamn miracle because she doesn't remember any of it. Thank god it wasn't a parallel spot because she wouldn't have been able to handle it. At all.

But here they are. In park. Margaret Dresden the only absolutely still item on a constantly spinning rock in a constantly spinning universe. The sun is shining.

If I had thought that Maggie would have accepted me brushing off her request I would have done so. But I know she's relentless and I didn't think she would let it go. She may not believe it but I watered it down some for her too. Apparently not enough though with the way she practically went catatonic. I didn't say anything though, I didn't know what I could say to make it better. Maybe I should have handled it better from the start and just said that the Red Court was involved. I'm reminded once again that I'm really no good at this at all.

"Sorry, Maggie. I should have just said it was a lot of dealing with that stuff and let you ask the questions from there."

After a moment or two of silence: "well, we're here." There are things to do, people to find, books to go through. Why are they at the library? Margaret turns her head to look out the window and up at the two story brick building. In Chicago the build up not out, except in the suburbs where land and boredom is plentiful.

When she moves it feels like she is just watching herself move, that someone else is doing the actual actions. Unbuckling the belt, removing the jingling keys. They rest in her palm under her fingers, clutched tight even as she goes for her bag. "What are we doing here?"

I wanted to ask if she wanted to talk about it. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to go back and time and make it so none of this ever happened. But I don't and I can't because she has to be the one to make those overtures. And even I'm not so reckless that I would try and change the past. I figure there's one law of magic that I should try not to break.

"We're going to see the Librarian," I said, hopping out of the Jeep and trying to keep my voice sounding like everything was situation normal. I don't know if I'm trying to convince her or myself though. Maybe both of us. Just pushing things aside and not dealing with them isn't the healthiest coping mechanism but sometimes it's all you've got.

"She owes me a favor and I think she can help us find what we're after faster than just about anyone else. Just remember to keep your voice down."

Margaret might not talk about it, but she would take a hug, she would certainly take a hug. Almost all of the time she would take a hug, she has gotten into the 'hugging' thing lately and it turns out that it's super good for you. People actually need physical touch and comfort in order to thrive and do well.

True story.

"The librarian? Capital T?" Is this any librarian or like, the cream of the crop? The one that is actually a super spy in disguise? It it an occupation or a code name? These things matter. Talking feels good, sort of like the Tin-Man in the Wizard of OZ. First the mouth starts and then everything else sort of follows and the musical number begins. The Tin-Man of course chopped off his own limbs under the curse of the Wicked Witch.

Magic.

"You know, if you need information I've got a guy. And, like, you don't have to keep your voice down." Hands in back pockets she starts off toward the front doors. "No cameras either," because big brother is fucking watching, thanks.

"Capital L," I corrected, glancing at her to make sure that she was doing alright without looking like I was checking to make sure that she was doing alright. I was probably pretty obvious about it but if she got upset because I care about her then she'll get upset a lot. She seemed alright but I wasn't worried about her being able to do the job, I'm worried about the emotional pain.

"But if my information lady doesn't pan out then we'll go to your information guy," I said. The idea of going to talk to someone I didn't know didn't really sit well with me but I had to trust that Maggie knew what she was doing. I almost changed my mind right there to go talk to her person first but decided against it since we were already here and time was of the essence. "And I'll go in front of you to block the cameras if you want."

"Ahhhhh," a slow bob of the head in acknowledgement. "I will make sure to stay extra quiet," surprisingly Margaret is in the library quite a bit. Not generally for long periods of time but it's super for good, cheap entertainment and books on a lot of weird shit: it's useful. Still smells kinda bad, but until we address the homeless situation it is what it is.

Pausing on the sidewalk before the stairs she waits for Harry and then motions for him to go forward first. If he wants to go first he can. Though she's not exactly totally worried about the cameras and surveillance, things like that don't always last the longest when he's around.

I nodded and headed up the stairs and opened the front door for her, old habits dying hard despite my reassurance that I'd go in front of her. If she was hesitant to go in I'd just go in first but I thought I should actually make the effort to be on my best manners. At least for the moment. That promise only lasted so long with me and then things started to go "boom".

Once inside I lead us past most of the desks, doing my best to keep us as far from the computers as possible so that no one's work was ruined just because I wandered through. Thankfully the building and set up was open enough that I could avoid the majority of them and I only saw a few people giving their computers momentarily funny looks out of the corner of my eye.

We got to one of the desks on the far side of the building and I pulled out my library card, showing it to the woman behind the desk. She gave me a very long, hard look like I was exactly the sort of person who she was paid to keep out. I tried to give her a charming smile but the look just intensified. Leaning her head to the side she took a look at Maggie and decided that I must be alright.

Stepping through the door actually lead us into a very small elevator.

"Going down," I said in my most ominous voice and pushed the button with the down arrow on it. A heavy, mechanical noise sounded before we started to descend. "Oh, by the way, don't look at the Librarian with your sight if you're afraid of spiders."

[ooc: Sorry, actually had to work at work today!]

Margaret lends legitimacy to almost any situation. Because she has that young, open, easy face that still clearly says student. Which is why the librarian figures they are all good, despite the fact that the dude next to her is tall and has a rather haunted look and her jacket is weird as fuck. An observation is made and it's probably that the worst they are is Fine Arts students.

Compliment? Insult? You be the judge.

"Oh fucking Christ," Margaret turns her face up toward the top of the elevator, beseeching a higher power. "Please don't let us get stuck in here and die." Out of all the ways to die, plummeting elevator is probably one of the one's she doesn't ever want to experience. And if they get stuck it's SOL because she didn't bring her bag. Dammit.

The response to the spider thing is just a groan. Not cool.

[no worries, no worries, i feel you. last night was dnd for me. sorry about the delay!]

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