Whatever It Takes (Dorian)

It was always a pleasure to be partnered with Agent Devereaux for a mission, even if it meant going undercover in such ridiculous garb. The men had to look the part and while they had certainly turned a few heads here at the office, they blended in well at gym where they’d been surveilling a bloke with ties to the wizard mob. No one even gave them a second glance as they moved around the circuit, only making contact once when Dorian “accidentally” tried to take the same machine as their target so that he could take an imprint of the man’s hand. Other than the brief encounter, it was a no thrills mission for today, but one that would require additional follow up. This wouldn’t be the last time Agents Humbert and Devereaux assumed the roles of Harvey Norgenbloom and Rex Buckingham, respectively.

A hot coffee and a genial smile for the witch working the counter in the cafeteria (of which remained mostly unnoticed as the unsightly facial hair blocked the view of his mouth), and the two men were headed for the lifts. A pair of hit witches fell in the queue for the elevators behind them as Kit asked if they could change before reporting back to the department head. “Definitely time for a change of clothes,” he said as the witches giggled behind them like schoolgirls. Dorian enjoyed Kit. They were similar enough that Dorian didn’t feel the need to put forth a lot of additional effort when socializing, not because he didn’t think Agent Devereaux wasn’t deserving of it, but because the reserved young Auror understood him more than most the other agents. It had been Kit’s demure demeanor that first caught Dorian’s attention years back when the younger wizard was first starting his training in the academy, but it was his unparalleled skill that forced Dorian’s respect for the man.

The gate for the elevator slide to the side and Dorian held it open, allowing the ladies and Kit to board first. As he stepped onto the lift, Dorian pressed the button labeled Two. “Second level, ladies?” he asked, ensuring he was correct in assuming they were heading back to their office and instead of attempting to go elsewhere. “Wherever you lot are going, that’s us too,” remarked the witch with mousy brown hair and eyes the size of golf balls. They laughed softly again, looking Kit up and down as if he were a steak before clapping their hands over their mouths. “Right,” Dorian replied, and fell in place facing the door of the elevator. When they reached the second level, Dorian again held the door for the women, then turned in the opposite direction and headed for the locker room. “Surprisingly, this isn’t one of the more regrettable outfits I’ve donned in this line of work,” he said to Kit as they made their way into the locker room to change.

The locker room wasn’t necessarily free from judgement but it was better than the common areas where just about anyone could look at them. Kit was unrecognizable but Dorian had a sense that he wasn’t quite as lucky. It might have been the way he walked or how he interacted with people now that his mission was complete but Dorian always felt as though he was being watched rather carefully inside the Ministry building. He would feel better once he was out of this ridiculous outfit. Dorian’s locker was further down than Kit’s and he listened to the explanation of Kit’s clowning adventure as he turned the combination and opened the locker to reveal his traditional attire. He gave a short chuckle when pie was mentioned. “I’m not sure anyone would think to ask me to play a clown,” he remarked, though Kit wasn’t anymore clown-like than Dorian, he thought. Pulling the hideous, shiny jacket off, Dorian took a hanger from his locker and hung the ridiculous thing as though it were one of his precious suits. The tank top underneath was almost equally as ugly and as Dorian stripped it off he couldn’t help but wonder how society was ever going to make it if this was what people considered fashionable.

Sitting on the bench that separated the rows of lockers, Dorian began to untie his trainers, pulling them off and setting them neatly on the floor. He stood and pulled his trousers off next, then folded them over the same hanger as he’d placed his track jacket. The outfit was complete once again. “My worst,” Dorian started, turning to look toward Kit as he pulled a white button down from a wooden hanger inside his locker, “was a purple velvet suit and matching wide-brimmed hat.” He pulled his arm through the sleeve and brought the shirt around behind him, sliding his other arm into the remaining sleeve. “I was undercover in the states for a few months a couple years back.” He began buttoning the shirt, hiding the scars that decorated his chest. “As a pimp,” he added, his eyes rolling upwards. “Dark wizard kidnapping muggles for a sex trafficking ring. Of all the outfits I had to wear on that mission, the purple velvet suit still haunts me.” It wasn’t a laughing matter, the purpose for him having gone undercover, but they’d been successful in stopping most of the traffickers and sometimes you just had to laugh at yourself.

Shirt mostly buttoned, Dorian pulled his trousers from the locker and stepped into them, stuffing his shirt tail into the waist and smoothing out and large rippled before he fastened the button and pulled the zipper up. Another round of shirt tucking ensured his lines were crisp. He was already feeling much more like himself. “They used to,” he said in response to Kit’s question about travelling for work. “Not quite as much since I’ve taken custody of my niece, but before Ariel I probably went a couple times a year, depending on the job.” Pulling a pair a sharp dress shoes from the locker, Dorian sat once again on the bench and continued talking. “I went to Egypt when I was about your age,” he remarked, sounding much older than he actually was, and not lingering on that particular mission for long. Dorian’s parents had died not long after his trip to Egypt, he didn’t like to think on it too much. “And Russia a few times since.” Setting one shoed foot down on the ground, Dorian lifted the other one, crossing his ankle over his knee as he slid the remaining shoe on his foot. “I prefer staying local myself, but if you’re looking to venture out a bit more, I’d be happy to bring pass on a good word. After today, I doubt anyone would argue your ability to improvise.”

Dorian appreciated the thanks, despite finding it unnecessary. Had an overseas job been brought to his attention, he would have recommended Kit, among a short list of a few others, for the work. They were young and Britain was on the brink of a civil war, they deserved to see something of the world before they were taken from it. This wasn’t a favor he was offering to Kit, not really even though it sounded as such. He was ready and he would do a good job of it, whatever the mission may be. Selfishly, the more Aurors capable of such a wide array of missions, the better it was for Dorian because he would be able to spend more time with his niece. She was growing up far too quickly and he was missing so much of it. Emily had been caring for Ariel when she’d taken her first steps, and he’d been out of the country when she said her first word. He was never gone from her for very long but it was enough to make him stay up at night and fret about the future.

Setting both feet on the ground, Dorian smiled. “She’s well. Growing like a weed.” His eyes held a proud sparkle as he thought of his sweet little angel. He stood and moved once more to his locker, pulling his tie out and running it around the collar of his shirt, looking in the little mirror hung on the inside of his locker door as he tied it properly. “We had her birthday celebration at my flat last month – no, nearly two months ago, and she was absolutely delighted with all the sugary sweets and gifts. There’s not enough space to keep all her new toys.” He gave a small chuckle as he pulled his suit jacket from the wooden hanger and slid his arms through the sleeves. “She’s not spoiled, just well loved, as my mother would have said.” A wave of his wand to fix his hair and Dorian once again looked like his buttoned-up self. He felt immensely better. “How’re your family doing?”