North/Wanda - Of cuckoo clocks and coffee (backdated)

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Wanda's plan to keep North busy and away from drugs get busted.



The lobby was empty when Wanda let herself into the Brownstone but she wasn't all that surprised. It was that time of the day where people where people were still scattered with some still at the office, others grabbing dinner out or staying in their respective spaces. Fresh from the office herself, her plan was to check her mail box and then figure out dinner. She hadn't eaten since breakfast (though god knows she wasn't going to tell Amanda) that and her stomach was starting to plot a revolution if she didn't feed it and soon.

A check in the mailbox showed a few bills and a letter with a small package from her uncle. She smiled - knowing him, he'd sent her some European treat she'd forgotten she liked.

It would not be the only package Wanda would receive if David had his way about it. The German man was waiting by the stairwell for his colleague to finish with her mail, greeting her with a polite smile on his lips and an unwrapped box under his arm. Not living in his office seemed to be agreeing with him – he looked particularly clean shaven with his barely-there hair and casual clothes, the circles under his eyes having faded slightly with more sleep.

Wanda headed over to David after tucking her mail into her purse and she smiled in response to his greeting as she approached. "David," she said, "have I caught you coming or going from the Brownstone?" She caught a glance of the box tucked under his arm and tilted her head curiously as she stopped next to him.

“I was waiting for you, actually.” The German man inclined his head. “Had a good day at work, I hope?”

"As well as can be expected when trying to sooth the ruffled feathers of irritated magicians. Most are easily taken care of but others are crankier than they have any right to be." She huffed in irritation. "I know that dealing with our other contacts cannot be a walk in the park but there is something about old magic users that make them unpleasant to deal with." Wanda stopped talking for a moment to look North over. "I'm curious as to why you were waiting for me, so I'll ask about that before asking about your day."

“Well, you never know what you will be like when you reach their age, no?” His contacts had their own brand of unmanageable to them without having magic thrown into the mix, and David was pretty sure he would be flying off tomorrow to soothe a different breed of feathers, each one more irritating than the last. But he was their handler and mis-management was out of the question.

The German man offered Wanda the box in response to her query. It was light enough that she could manage it without problem. “I have something that belongs to you.” Several things, actually. But the others could wait for now.

The look she'd given him at the earlier comment had been a combination of wry and unamused because she tried not to think of what she'd be like when she was well past middle age. She was difficult enough now, god help anyone who had to deal with her when she was in her 60s or older. But she was now focused on the box on her hands and Wanda ducked her head slightly to look at it as she popped it open. The cascade of wavy hair hid her slight smile - she'd figured out what was in there but she wanted to play the game a little further.

The box wasn't sealed and the flaps were simply folded down so it didn't take much to open it. Wanda dropped her purse onto the stairs so she could reach in and pull out a lovingly hand made wood and bronze clock. "This is a very pretty clock, David," she said innocently. "What's the occasion?"

“Nothing in particular,” David shrugged, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms a small, fond smile toying at his lips. “Do you like it? It was left in front of my apartment on Thursday when I came back from Germany. A beautiful piece. So I can absolutely imagine why someone would purposely damage the bellows and chains without so much as defacing it.

“But if it’s not to your tastes, I have another piece. Intricately and curiously carved from dark cherry wood – possibly from the British Isles, I think. It came in the mail on Friday in a very curious condition. But I think I managed to repair it enough that you can’t tell it’s been thrown from 14 floors up.”

The spy quirked a brow at his colleague, pale blue eyes a curious mix of amusement and warning.

"Now that does take quite a lot of skill," Wanda said slowly, a smile twitching more even though she was trying her best to not smile. You couldn't look innocent when you were grinning, after all. "This is a gorgeous clock and I'm very happy to see that you've repaired it beautifully! You always did have a way with clocks." The smile was growing. "I'd be happy to take a look at that other clock, too, but you might have to end up feeding me. I would apologize but I have always been a bit shameless."

“Not as much skill as it takes to throw it from 14 floors up and not render irreparable damage on it, or achieve the same effect by drowning an antique wooden clock,” David demurred, reaching forward and retrieving the box from her so that he could lead the way back to his apartment. “Come on then. Feeding a shameless person like yourself is never a problem. But be careful,” he paused, throwing a slight smirk over his shoulder. “Your tail is showing.”

She couldn't help it, she laughed. The 'gig', as it were, was up. At the end of the day, Wanda could only keep something like this going for so long before she succumbed to feeling far too amused to keep it going. "I am incredibly glad to hear that you have no issue feeding the shameless," she said, following along after snagging her purse from where she'd dropped it. "We seem to be a popular breed around here."

They entered his apartment, and he dropped his keys by the door, kicking the door shut after Wanda before leading her to his study table. He placed the box down and gestured vaguely at the table top where two clocks were laid out, one only half-repaired. “Clock number two and clock number three. Or, as I like to call them, Failed Suicide Attempt and Death by Drowning. I haven’t gotten around to number four but it looks like it’s a cutter.”

"I suppose you cannot fault me for innovation," Wanda said, crouching next to the table to study the two clocks. The half-repaired one looked well on its way to full health again but, then again, she was better at coming up with ingenious ways to break them than fixing them. She'd fully anticipated David being able to repair any of the damage she'd inflicted upon the innocent things and it looked like she'd been proven right.

“No,” he agreed. “I could not. Or for taste – the clocks are of superior craftsmanship. It’s a little difficult to obtain spare parts for the inner mechanisms and wood panelling for the water-logged one, but at least you didn’t let water damage to occur to the façade. Again.” David paused, shooting Wanda a Look. “These are antique pieces, Wanda. They are meant to be treated with some kind of respect. Irreverent or otherwise.”

The German man shook his head at Wanda again, although the slight smile on his face would tell her that it was more exasperated fondness than real irritation. “What would you like to eat and drink?”

She shrugged, smiling, as she stood up. Parts of her creaked in reminder that sometimes she felt like an antique sometimes. "I have an open palate most of the time, David, and I'm imposing, so whatever you wish to serve me will be more than fine." Wanda did pause for a moment to remove her shoes, a habit she'd picked up years ago when wandering around someone's home, and she leaned on the table for a moment to do so. "And for your information, I treated these pieces with more respect than I give most people. My respect was simply tempered with respect for my ability to break them just enough and your ability to bring them back to perfect health."

“Sometimes I think you overestimate me,” he replied, tugging open the fridge door and examining its contents. After a moment, he began pulling out some meat and vegetables and dumping it on the counter. He drew out tumbler of coffee and poured Wanda a cup, serving the iced beverage up with milk and sugar. “Too warm for hot coffee, so I’ve resorted to this.”

"You're a genius," she sighed, happily taking the offered drink. Wanda was missing the cooler temperatures of other countries she'd lived in - not only was it miserable outside but the humidity didn't do one good thing for her hair. Finding a convenient surface to lean on, she leaned back and took a long sip of her drink. Brilliant. "With drinks as well as clocks. I was quite confident in your ability to repair the damage I did if you were looking for something to do."

“There’s always something to do,” he replied, filling a pot with water and putting that on the stove, retrieving a cutting board and knife from the dishwasher. “But it was a welcome project and your kind intentions are very much noted. So you have my thanks and a good meal to show for it.” David glanced at his fellow European with a smile as he diced up a carrot. “My fire escape is also always open to you should you want to claim another.”

Wanda smiled and felt a jolt of pleasure at that. One of the things she'd been trying to piece back together, besides her work, had been her relationships with everyone. It was nice to know that she hadn't destroyed all of that in her currently futile attempts to locate Agatha. "Careful or I will take you up on that too much," she said with a laugh. Wanda waved a hand suddenly. "And, please, my intentions were far from kind. I had just returned and didn't want to see you heading out. I figured the project would either be a welcome thing to pass your time with or you would be so frustrated with me that you would stick around just to exact revenge."

How that was not kind, David could not fathom. “You merely want me around because of the paper work, don’t you?”

"You are the only one who seems to delight in being sent into certain parts of Europe," she sighed dramatically, knowing both that she actually had no issue with doing so and that Marie-Ange had taken the lion share of David's work while he'd been away. "Besides, you pretty up the office."

“I am delegated to being a background prop in the face of your beauty,” was the bland reply as David measured into the pot a decent amount of concentrated beef stock. “I may as well be productive from places other than behind my office door.”

"Well, considering what I remember of my last trip to Eastern Europe, it certainly needs all the pretty we can throw at it," she teased. It had always been enjoyable to have someone around who had traveled and lived in the same places she had been too. There were days she missed it rather terribly but she made do with talking to her relatives on occasion and catching up with David.

“I am told we simply have been in the wrong places,” he said. “Which is a tragedy, really. Apparently the rich have been taking to squandering their fortunes on sea-side property on the islands of Croatia. Beautiful views, I am told. I should leap on the bandwagon before the Greek economy starts improving. If it ever does.”

"We always go to the wrong places," Wanda pointed out. "The right places never have anything we actually need. And they have a severe lack of people shooting at us."

“And we know we are doing something wrong when there are no gunmen with their nozzles pointed at our heads,” David said, equally solemnly, as he lit the stove and tossed the meat into the microwave oven to defrost.

"Well," Wanda laughed, "here's to being pretty and apparently never being wrong!"