Page 10 of Search for the Lost

Pinch.

“Was there anything else truly urgent, or can the rest wait for the afternoon briefing?” When Cypher turned to stare at him, he continued. “Crispin always says such great things about your afternoon briefings. It would be a shame to waste everything on the morning one.”

Cypher smiled despite his animosity toward Leo, pawing the floor with one of his hooves. “That’s very kind of you.” He turned and put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “If you ever wanna get a drink after work, I’d love to go over more… things.” He gave Leo’s Crispin body a slow once-over.

Crispin’s eyes widened. Is he flirting with my partner, right here in front of me? Cypher was scraping his stubby antlers on the wrong tree. Leo was one-hundred-percent his. Wasn’t he?

Leo disengaged from the handsome young assistant gently. “Yes, Leo and I would love to have you over for dinner one of these nights.” He looked over at Crispin, who nodded and breathed a sigh of relief.

“It would be nice to have a get together, all three of us.” Not that he had to worry about Leo in that way, but it was nice to see him setting boundaries. Strange too. Is that the Order rubbing off on you?

Cypher sighed and made a point of looking over the rest of his list. “I don’t suppose there’s anything else that can’t wait⁠—”

“Perfect. Please take us to—” Leo must have seen Crispin shaking his head sharply and so he changed tack. “Then please excuse us while we make our way to the Oracle’s room. And I do know where it is. Because I’m the director.” He waved Crispin’s assistant off. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Of course, sir.” Both Cypher’s spoken and body language became much more formal. “I’ll come find you this afternoon after your… whatever this is.” He turned tail and swept out of the room.

“That one is trouble.” Aspin grinned.

“Don’t I know it.” Crispin had noticed Cypher’s flirtatious nature before, but seeing it from the outside was a whole different experience. Whether it was because the faun was truly interested in him or just wanted to advance his career, he was definitely flirting. He’d have to put an end to that when he was back in his own body. When. Not if.

“Okay, so where is the Oracle? Things were… a bit turned around the last time we were here.” Leo blinked again. “And yeah, I’m aware of how weird it is for me to be the one driving things.”

Crispin frowned. Was that how Leo saw it? Sure, Crispin was usually the one with the drive, the guy who pushed for order, organization, and anti-lolligagation. But did Leo see himself as the follower in their relationship? “It’s, um, this way.” Crispin was usually so much more certain about things. This new self-doubt was unfamiliar, and unwelcome.

“We’ll follow you.” Leo seemed cheerful enough about it, but Crispin wondered.

He led the way down the hallway and past the Pit, where the majority of the staff worked at their immaculate white desks and where he had spent most of his career at OotL. The hall was half empty, with many of the curators probably out on assignment.

A little farther along, they passed the Necessary Room, the bathrooms (which were also quite necessary, in Crispin’s opinion), and the Panic Room.

“What’s in there?” Aspin glanced at the door as they passed by.

“You really don’t want to go into that room.” A blood-curdling scream punctuated Crispin’s warning.

Leo shuddered, and nodded.

Someone with a sense of humor had clearly planned the office layout. Next to the Panic Room was the Pancake Room—from the slightly ajar door wafted the most heavenly scent of maple syrup and fresh-baked pancakes.

A few office workers passed them as they made their way down the hallway, but most of them gave the trio a wide berth. Few people messed with the boss, especially when he had what looked like important company.

Only Gladys from HR—a hulking rhinsus from Greebals—raised her face horn to them in greeting and flashed Crispin a broad smile full of very sharp, very yellow teeth. “Good mooorning, Director Moss’caladin. Dooo stop by my office later. I made brooownies!” She waved a thick gray arm at them. The normally sharp rhinsus nails, capable of gutting most lesser species with a single swipe, had been filed down to round nubs and painted a cheery pink with a yellow flower at the center of each. He had to admit, they quite nicely complimented her flowy spring-inspired rose-and-gold dress, complete with white frills at the end of her sleeves. She tromped away, whistling a cheery tune.

Aspin stared after her regretfully.

Surely he wouldn’t⁠—

“I want brownies. I haven’t eaten since I left home.” Aspin’s stomach growled as if to punctuate the statement.

Thank the dead gods. Crispin had been imagining fae-rhinsus offspring, and it hadn’t been pretty.

He was relieved when they finally reached their destination. Maybe this nightmare would be over soon. “And here we are. The Oracle.”

Leopold blinked. “This? This is it? It looks… different than I remember.”

The door in front of them was a plain gray rectangle with a single doorknob, and not even a particularly nice doorknob. It was one of those brass-plated ones that home builders across the Connected Worlds used because their local home improvement store had them in bulk and they were cheap. There was also a fake-wood nameplate attached to the door by a failing strip of hot glue that read simply Janitorial Closet.

Aspin sneered. “Yeah, seriously. This is the home of the great and mighty Oracle everyone talks about? What a letdown.”