The fluorescent lights hurt. They were impossibly bright, impossibly strong. He groaned, pushing his glasses up and rubbing at his eyes. His head hurt something awful. The power nap seemed to have done more harm than help, if this was his reward. But Mab alive, he was exhausted. He felt like he could sleep for another decade, at least, but the moment he came to, he could hear the phones in the office across the hall, and the smell of ink and starch white paperwork hit him with the full force of a speeding wyvern.Ā
He had work to do.Ā
Groggily, Tracy picked his head up, still barely able to see straight as clumsy fingers began to pull papers from the neatly organized bins at the front of his desk. There were more than than was entirely reasonable - more than he remembered letting accumulate - but his head was still cloudy and not much but a few words on the document made any sense.Ā
Blearily, he signed the appropriate fields and placed it in the out basket.Ā
He reached again, the process repetitive and redundant, mechanical work as his head began to clear, and what his spindly fingers pulled from the bin. He heard footsteps, the click of heels on marble outside his office door, and the click of the lock as someone entered unannounced.Ā
āYes, hullo mate, very busy - so if you donāt mind, just leaving the papers and-āĀ
āMr. Aberdeen.ā A curt, feminine voice cut him off, and he looked up. Before him were a pair of twins, prim and proper and regally dressed in darker tones than anything any Tooth Faerie would wear. He sat rigid immediately, fully awake now.Ā āI do hope weāre not interrupting anything too important.ā
Tracy sat dumbfounded in his seat, staring up with no small amount of embarrassment as the Queen of Arcadiaās most trusted advisers stood before him. Samantha and Clarence Cabbot, each the top of their field and the most trusted Fae of Mabās private court.Ā
Her brother reached into the front of his suit coat, pulling forth a folded card, whoās face was dolloped with a striking gold foil.Ā āFor our most... esteemed, caseworker.ā
āBut you lot are Mabās Tutors.ā he started, plucking the card from Clarenceās hand.Ā
āWeāre very well aware of who we are, sir. Now please. The Queen has a great task for you, Mr. Aberdeen.āĀ
Tracy looked down at the card, reading the glittering text scrawled in gold on the card, barely able to believe the words that were written in brilliance in front of him. He looked up quickly, a thousand questions at the forefront of his mind and none of them answered.Ā
The Cabbots were gone.Ā
