Chapter Text
As they approach the infirmary, Agnes realizes she didn’t quite think through her plan, considering she does not, in fact, have a sprained ankle. Which will be obvious soon. Well, shoot.
This is why Angus is supposed to be the one in charge of coming up with their cover stories, Angus the one who’s good with coming up with lies on the fly. Agnes needs time, information, and an already charmed audience to craft hers. She technically has the last bit, Magnus seems pretty cooperative but the first two are more elusive. She glances around wildly, trying to zero in one her invisible brother for a solution when she feels a warm rush of magic on her ankle.
To her right, she hears a rhythm--Tap, tap, pause, tap. One of their codes, Stay put this one meant and Agnes nearly lets go of Magnus’ hair so that she can drag her hands over her own face. Of course, she needs to stay put, she can’t exactly make a leap from Magnus’ shoulders, she’s pretty certain Angus wouldn’t even be able to pull that off without a few bruises.
She throws a look in the direction the tapping came from, but she trusts whatever magic her brother cast. Because he can use magic now, and that’s still just a little bit amazing, no one had ever wanted to teach a pair of street kids magic but Gus found a teacher all on his own. It makes her heart pinch, just a little, because maybe people are more willing to help him when he doesn’t have a sickly sister trailing after him. She knows he started getting better cases after she went to the hospital and even if he says it’s because he looked for them to help pay for her stay there it doesn’t stop the little seed of doubt.
Maybe Angus is better off without her--He’s done so much, helped save the world, found a new family, all while she stayed in Neverwinter stuck in bed all day. If she’d never gotten sick maybe she could have been here with him all along.
Agnes knows why she’s a secret, she’s vulnerable and there are so many Bad People who want to hurt Angus and she’s such an easy target. Sometimes though, it just feels bad, not like protection but like a cage. Like Angus is allowed to have a whole entire life and she’s supposed to be happy with being stuffed in a box for her own good.
Thinking like this makes her feel bad, makes her feel ungrateful, especially now because Angus is trying to share his life with her. This whole stupid plan is his way of saying that the door out of her box is open but maybe going outside is scary sometimes. Maybe she needs Angus to hold her hand and lead her out.
Her hands slip away from Magnus’ face and she reaches up, pushing her glasses off her face and rubbing at her eyes. She’s not crying, today is supposed to be happy--There’s just lots of moondust up here. The man below her slows his pace, just the smallest bit and cranes his neck to look up at her, “You good up there, Ango? We’re almost to the infirmary, okay? We’ll get you some ice and you’ll be just fine.”
It startles her, just a little, the man’s kindness but she reminds herself that it’s because he thinks she Angus but...but maybe he would be just as nice to Just Agnes.
When Magnus bumps the door open with one hip, his arms already reaching up to pull her down, Agnes hears voices further in. She catches the door behind them swing open, seemingly of it’s own power, but Magnus seems distracted as he calls out, “Heeeeeey!!! Killian, you doin’ any better today?”
She’s still being held up, a large meaty hand under each armpit, like a toddler holding a cat, when they approach the back wall. There are a line of beds, but only one of them is occupied, a large Orcish woman spread upon the cot. Agnes recognizes her as Killian from Angus’ description and assumes that the smaller dragonborn sitting at the end of her bed must be Carey. The only other occupant in the room Agnes can’t place immediately, a human with goggles pushed up onto his forehead. He sits beside the two women, a flask pressed precariously between his palms. As they get closer, Agnes realizes he’s holding it like that because the majority of his fingers are set in splints. Well, that seems like a good enough reason to be day drinking.
“Eh, been better since Avi got here,” The prone orcish woman motions to shrug before groaning and biting back a curse at the aborted gesture, “Me an’ Carey have been taking bets as to how much of that Fantasy Fireball ends up in his mouth versus on his lap.”
The dragonborn grins, wide and wolfish, “I’ve got my gold on at least half that flask--Boom, right onto his pants.”
Agnes blinks and words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop herself, “Uh, couldn’t you help him, Miss Carey?”
Carey blinks as if the thought had never occurred to her, “I mean, yeah, I could but watching him like this is like, way more fun. You’re too nice for your own good, kid. Live a little, fuck up your friends.”
“Thanks, Carey,” Avi says dryly from the adjacent chair, “I can really feel the love and sympathy for my seven broken fingers.”
The dragonborn grins and abruptly her tail whips sideways to give Avi a hardy spap on the back that nearly sends his flask tumbling, "Sorry, all my sympathy is currently being used for my fiance's broken collarbone. Try again later, man."
Agnes watches the trio banter back and forth as Magnus gently sets her down on the next bed over. Which finally catches the attention of the other three and Agnes watches, utterly fascinated as their faces slide from all smiles to concern. Killian is the first to speak, angling her head with a grimace to get a better look.
“Woah, little guy, you made it through The Day alright how’d you end up in here?”
Agnes meets the orcish woman’s stare dead on and says, “Extreme reading accident, ma’am.”
Killian barks out a laugh and Carey snorts as Agnes practically preens at her joke landing well. She doesn't really consider herself as witty as her brother, they're both quick thinking but their methods of wordsmithing entirely different. She can't help but feel rather smug with her ability to mimic her brother’s deadpan. So wrapped up in absorbing the laughter of Angus’ friends she nearly misses Magnus reaching down to remove her shoe. She jerks in surprise, though Magnus must think it's pain because he mumbles an apology.
Agnes watches in a little bit of awe at her ankle which certainly possesses a swollen red tint. It hits her more strongly than before that her brother is really a wizard and Agnes has to blink a few times.
Stupid moondust keeps getting in her eyes.
She watches, utterly fascinated, as Magnus wraps her ankle with as much skill as any nurse she's seen. It's pretty basic first aid, a staple for adventurers but it's still a little weird to watch such big, scarred hands work so delicately.
“Alright, little buddy!” He gives her knee a pat as he reaches over and pulls a sticker of all things from the medical kit he’d grabbed the medical wrap from. It’s a little holographic star and while she puffs out her cheeks a bit in a pout as it’s ever so gently pressed onto her bandages. She’s not a baby, she’s eleven. Agnes nearly opens her mouth to say as much but stops short as Magnus reaches for a second sticker and slaps it onto his own cheek.
...Well, if the sticker isn't just because she's a kid, it’s not so bad.
Magnus, seemingly oblivious grins wide, sticker crinkling and lifts her back up onto his shoulders, “All patched up just take it easy for a bit.”
Agnes nods solemnly, kicking her ‘good’ foot as she leans back in Magnus’ hold, “Of course, sir. Only light detective work, just thieves no murders.”
Carey’s the first one from the other side of the room to pipe in, “What about a murdering thief?”
“Yeah, or a thief who only steals from murderers.” Killian adds with one eyebrow impressively quirked.
Agnes makes a show to consider their words, rubbing at her chin the way her brother does during a particularly tricky clue. She hums out a little noise of thought, “That's medium detective work so none of that. Yet.”
The girl manages to keep a straight face for exactly thirty seconds before descending into giggles muffled behind her hands. She practically topples over, leaning forwards and curling around Magnus’ head as she cackles. He makes a show of wobbling her forwards and backward while loudly proclaiming her wiggling is setting him off balance. However, the gentle but firm grip on her calves stays steady enough that Agnes knows she isn’t in any real danger of falling.
“Okay! One freshly repaired boy detective! It’s time for the Burnsides Express to chug along to the next station,” Magnus makes an obnoxious noise somewhere between a holler and a whistle that has Agnes sides practically splitting with laughter. There’s a light wheeze in her chest, and she presses a hand up against it to ease the feeling. A few of her giggles nearly crackle into coughs, but Agnes has spent years figuring out how to hide her tells.
Instead she puts on her most Angus-ly put upon expression of seriousness, the one he wears when he accidentally does something childish on a case--Or when he swears in front of the nurses and has to bullshit that they misheard him. She clears her throat, easing some of the tension there with the deliberate action and hiding the majority of a few small coughs.
Two birds with one stone, getting back into character and making sure no one notices she’s wheezing with a little more than laughter. She kicks her ‘good’ leg again and waves enthusiastically at Carey, Killian, and Avi as Magnus marches her out of the infirmary towards where she assumes the kitchen is based on his declaration at the start of their little quest. She settles in again, lets Magnus’ chatter wash over her and focuses on catching her breath.
They’re fun, she decides, Angus’ new family is so much fun.