Luna disappeared around the corner with one sharp, violent flipping of the bird, and Much covered his face with both hands and let his palms muffle his frustrated protest. There were a couple of women watching him suspiciously, and he thought that if he tried to follow her and get to to listen to him they were going to step in on her behalf.
I’m trying to help he thought, in his own defense, and then yeah, because shouting at women on the street is a super helpful thing to do. He gave them both an apologetic smile, I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m not following her but wasn’t all that surprised when their suspicious looks didn’t change. One, when he’d smiled at her, put her hand into her handbag, and Much backed off, taking it for the warning that it was.
It’s fine. It was fine. Everything was totally fine. Much walked his bike down the street and tried to remind himself of the thrill of stealing from the Sheriff (well – the thrill of knowing that the Sheriff had been stolen from, if you wanted to get specific, which Much did not.) But that just got him thinking about what they were supposed to do next. Maybe Ben could set the Sheriff up so it looked like he was a criminal, send him to jail… Much really did like the idea of the Sheriff in jail, proper jail, far away from them, and he was so deep in trying to figure out how to achieve it that he almost ran over a corner of cardboard box that a man on the street was using to protect himself from the seeping cool of the sidewalk. When Much apologised, the man smiled uncannily up at him and asked him for a gift.
A little weird, but Much figured he might as well improve someone’s day. Much leaned his bike up against the wall and sat down on the street beside the man, chatting as he went through his pockets looking for something good. He figured the ten bucks he had zipped into his jacket would probably be more use to the man than it would to him, and passed it over, but didn’t feel that it counted as a gift.
Much carried a lot of things in his pockets; coins and safety pins, a multi-tool, gum and headphones, a handcuff lock pick, a battery that he was pretty sure was still alive, and a little silver LED flashlight. He passed over the flashlight with a questioning look – is this useful? – and the man accepted it with a very toothy smile, and then hauled himself up and left with a wink.
Huh, thought Much, and when he turned to grab his bike again, almost ran into a woman, who pressed a flier into his hand with a bright smile, and disappeared into a small crowd of men in business suits coming out of a cafe.
Much looked down at the flier, and then took a moment to lean against the brick wall behind him to let it sink in. Farcical Aquatic Ceremony, Merlin’s comedy club.
Despite Will’s feelings about Merlin, Merlin had told Marian he wanted to help. And they needed it. And Much desperately wanted to present the others with an answer when they came home, or even a direction… or literally anything helpful. Despite what Tuck and Stutely had said about prophecies being too vague, more useful as nightmare fuel that anything else… Much thought it was worth trying.
And the flier? Kind of like he’d been summoned. Or, exactly like he'd been summoned?
Much shoved the flier into the pocket where the flashlight had been, and off he went, without second thoughts slowing him down. At the bar of the club, he ordered a cider, casting his eyes around for the wizard, his hands seeing if they remembered how to make an origami cock out of a napkin while he waited. Was this a good idea? Maybe not, but was it the worst idea? Definitely not.