Chapter 80 (1/2)
The sound of clamorous banging echoed through the small alcove where Dan stood. Beneath the commotion, he could just about make out the residual echo of gleeful laughter. It appeared that Gregoir had finally encountered something louder than himself, if only just. The floor had finally stopped trembling; whatever defense measure had caused that particular issue had either been disengaged or disabled.
Abby's expression had grown increasingly worried as time had moved on. At present, she was pacing back and forth just behind Dan, alternating between angry cursing and nervous hand-wringing. The fifth minute since Gregoir's swan dive ticked by without any significant change in circumstances.
”We should call the police,” Abby announced suddenly, her pacing coming to an abrupt end. Her face was a picture of determination.
Dan gestured helplessly at the hole in his floor. ”He is the police.”
”Someone sane!” Abby growled, her determination instantly crumbling into angry exasperation.
”I mean,” Dan shrugged, motioning once more to the entrance, ”he ain't dead yet. I'm gonna assume the man knows what he's doing.”
He paused, then added, ”For a given value of knowledge.”
Abby's face twisted into a snarl and she resumed her pacing. Her hands gesticulated violently, emphasizing each word. ”He seemed so normal when I met him! Just a bit overenthusiastic!”
”I did say,” Dan pointed out.
”'He's a police officer,' I thought, 'He can be trusted,' I assumed!” Abby continued, ignoring Dan's perfectly reasonable interruption. ”Well I've certainly learned my lesson!”
”You wanted to call the police approximately twenty seconds ago,” Dan reminded her.
She jabbed a finger in his direction. ”You be quiet!”
”In fairness, I'm pretty sure most of the department falls closer to the normal side of the sanity scale. Gregoir is probably an outlier.” Dan briefly recalled the pitying looks he'd received upon being partnered with Gregoir for his ride along. ”I just... got that sort of vibe from them, y'know?”
Her lip curled in distaste. With a grudging sigh, she admitted, ”At least he's been right so far. I haven't heard any explosions yet, and the house is still standing.”
”Bonus points: we're not dead either,” Dan added cheerfully. He paused, head cocked and ears open. ”Now that you mention it, though, things seem to have gotten awful quiet all of a sudden.”
Abby frowned at his observation. The various sounds of grinding metal had finally ended, and Gregoir's laughter could no longer be heard. The only sound in the room was that of air flowing through the vents above them. Dan cautiously approached the trap door, but was forced to a stop when Abby's hand clamped around his bicep.
”And just where do you think you're going?” she demanded through gritted teeth.
Ah. She sounded a little angry. He should tread carefully. Dan sheepishly met her eyes. ”I was gonna go check it out.” He jabbed a thumb towards the opening. ”It's quiet now. Should be fine.”
”I'm positive that's not how it works.”
Dan winced. ”I should really make sure Gregoir's okay?”
Abby's free hand rested against her hip, her elbow jutting out at a sharp angle. ”Was that a question?”
”I should really check on Gregoir,” Dan amended. ”Make sure he's, y'know, still breathing.”
”YOUR CONCERN IS TOUCHING, BUT UNNECESSARY, MY FRIEND!” The bellowed greeting caught them both by surprise.
”Fuck!” Dan flinched backwards, crashing into Abby's side. They landed together in a jumbled heap of flailing limbs, tipping over a nearby cabinet. The clay pot resting on top of it shattered into pieces, and Abby let out a frustrated hiss.
”I'm gonna strangle that man!” She lifted Dan off herself with almost contemptuous ease, setting him into a kneeling position while he shook off his daze. After quickly checking him over, she spun to Gregoir, eyes blazing. ”You ass—” Her words trailed to a stop as she took in his appearance.
His long, normally immaculate, blonde hair looked like it had been run through a car wash, then set on fire. It stuck out at every angle, a tangled, terrible mess, with locks twisted and tips scorched. His bare chest was covered in soot and blood. Black char marks mottled his face and neck making him look more Dalmatian than Viking. Most of his left eyebrow was missing.
His horseshoe mustache remained completely untouched.
Gregoir pulled himself out of the hole, revealing shredded officer pants. Great gouges had been ripped in them, along his thighs and waist. What remained of the pants hung past his knees in ragged strips. He was barefoot, his shoes apparently lost to whatever dangers he'd engaged with. Despite all of the visible damage, the big blonde seemed completely unperturbed as he clambered to his feet and brushed himself off. Each lazy swipe of his hand knocked free blackened ash and dried blood, revealing the pristine skin beneath.
Dan watched the clumps of gross particulate rain down on his once clean floor. ”You're cleaning that up, And paying for my pot.” he informed the man.