They Can Smell Your Intentions

THEY CAN SMELL YOUR INTENTIONS
chapter four

Nigel shoved another forkful of perfectly fluffy scrambled eggs into his mouth and gulped down a hot measure of strong, black coffee with it. Adam hadn't been kidding, he'd perfected the art of breakfast and though it was simple fare, Nigel was appreciative of the effort made. As he brought his mug of coffee back to his lips, he was again shocked at the neat efficiency Adam had already injected into his life. Gone were the dirty ashtrays and the collection of empty booze bottles on the kitchen counter, leaving behind a pristine, empty cleanliness in their wake. He'd been quite busy throughout the entire apartment cleaning up, Nigel noted, and it had only taken him the time it took for Nigel to have a shower to bring his apartment into a semblance of home rather than a neglected crash pad.

Adam was still rumpled with sleep, the too big t-shirt hanging low on his shoulders as he softly smiled over his serving of eggs. He wasn't fond of coffee and managed to make orange juice from a can of freezer burned concentrate Nigel didn't know he had. "You live a very spare life," Adam said, looking around the kitchen and its decided lack of dishes, cutlery, appliances and food. "I've never seen anyone make coffee using a sauce pot before." Adam finished his helping and then left the very tiny dining room table, which was a slab of curved wood affixed to the wall and came with the apartment. He put his dishes in the sink and instantly rinsed them off. "It's like you aren't really living here. I do appreciate a lack of clutter and I like things to be neat and tidy, but this is different, it's like you don't exist at all in this place you consider your home. My father said it was important to put at least a small imprint of one's personality upon a place, it helps ground it into a sense of permanence. Is it okay if I put up some posters of the Orion constellation in the bedroom? I find the blank walls reminiscent of an institution and lacking a human element. Maybe some stars would brighten it up. I also have a spacesuit in storage that I would like to bring into the apartment, I have a stand for its display."

Damn, he moved quick the sneaky little minx, already shoving his personality over Nigel's personal space and laying claim to it. Omega all the way that's for sure. Nigel paused at this, and gave Adam a confused look as he considered the last thing he'd said. "A spacesuit? What, you mean a real one, like the astronauts use?"

"Yes, it was issued to me at Roscosmos but the likelihood of me actually journeying into space is now statistically at slightly less than ten percent. It gives me a sense of grounding having it with me, and when I feel extremely stressed I sometimes put it on, I like the way it shuts out the outside noise, it acts like a tool of sensory deprivation."

Nigel raised a brow at this. "You walk around in a fucking space suit when you get upset?"

"Yes."

"You're a strange little man, Adam Raki."

"You chain smoke and drink alcohol excessively when you are stressed. I believe what I do is significantly healthier."

Nigel frowned, wanting to argue the matter, but the image of Adam, his darling spaceman, walking around his apartment in a padded, insulated silver suit made laughter bubble up within him. "You got me there." Nigel was still smiling as his cell phone buzzed and he plucked it from his side pocket, answering it when he saw it was Darko on the other line. "If you want to play pretend you are on the moon, I won't object and as for the poster use tape, I don't want any holes in the walls--Yeah, Darko, I know I'm late. Give me half an hour."

"Get over here as fast you can, we got some new developments in the Verger case." Darko sounded breathless on the phone, like he had been running full tilt around a track. A pang of guilt hit Nigel at this since he'd been spending his morning lazily dragging his feet over going into work, enjoying Adam Raki's easy company far too much.

"What kind of developments?" Nigel asked, and Darko cursed, but not at him. He'd spilled his coffee and he barked at a distant subordinate to get him a new one.

"You know how Adam was to be sold, right?"

A sick feeling twisted into Nigel's gut at this as he looked on Adam, who was inspecting the spent, boiled coffee grounds in the sauce pot with curiosity and adding a little more water before turning the sauce pot back on.

"Yeah, I'm listening."

"Paul's been talking and he says Adam was sold to some guy in the United Main, and it didn't matter if he'd been double-dipped with you. It seems our tweaker Paul has got a big mouth, and he's been singing all fucking morning, on and on about how the Verger Corporation's investments in pigs is going south thanks to them getting sick with pneumonia and Mason's careless inbreeding causing lots of problems. Mason Verger, the head of the Verger Corporation, has been desperate enough with his stock to be doing genetic research in an effort to increase bacon production. It's not working so well, and he's had to prop up the family business with some highly unsavoury side projects." Nigel heard Darko loudly sip at his new mug of coffee, the highly strung man cursing over it being too hot. "Paul told us about a shipment of Omegas, and the possible warehouse they're heading for before overseas transport. The handing over of Omega goods is supposed to go down on Sunday."

Adam took away Nigel's empty plate and replenished his coffee with a quick pour from the sauce pot, a thoughtful gesture Nigel was instantly grateful for. The coffee was painfully strong, but he drank it anyway. If his little spaceman thought it was good for him, it had to be. "Get some unmarked cars staking out the place for the next few days, and tell them to hold a position far back, so they aren't detected. These fucking bastards can smell the stink of a cop a mile away, so make sure they use the shit cars, maybe borrow some from the drug trafficking brigade, those pricks are good at hiding in the open air." He tucked the cell phone under his chin and nodded at Adam who was quietly sitting across from him at the small breakfast nook. "Darling, please grab me a pen and paper, I need to write this address down."

"Darling?" Darko's voice angrily shot at him. "Adam Raki is there with you?" He swore, louder than before. "Did I just hear you call him that?"

Nigel cursed himself for letting the tiny endearment slip. "It's nothing, Darko, we didn't do anything..."

"You're fucking calling him 'darling' already! I warned you that this was going to happen, next thing you know he'll be going into heat and you'll be mating him and then you'll really be fucked, your head will be all messed up every time you knot and you can't do that right now, we need your head clear for this case!"

"Last I looked, Darko, you were my subordinate officer and I'm starting to lose some serious fucking patience with your nosy bullshit. If I want to call him darling while I shove a knot so deep into him he tastes it what's it to you? Oh, and just since you so desperately need to know, no, I haven't fucked him, so get off that high horse of yours and do what the fuck I told you to do."

Darko added a string of curses of his own, only to growl them down. "I'm your friend as much as your colleague, you asshole. I'm stupid enough to not want to see you hurt again."

Nigel sighed as Adam silently gave him a sheet of paper, the blank side of a pizza flyer, and a ball point pen that was imprinted with gold stars. He decided to permanently borrow it, the imprint of Adam's mind and soul all over the cylindrical surface. He wrote down the address Darko had gotten out of Paul, and he circled it while he asked a far more troublesome question. "How many Omegas are we talking about this time? They usually only transport three or four. Any male Omegas in the mix? They get double the price for those."

Darko hesitated and something black stirred inside of Nigel's instincts, and he felt his body tense in anticipation of Darko's answer. "It's a big deal, boss," Darko said, confirming his worst fears. "We're talking at least a dozen. Paul said it's some kind of bulk purchase, ,meant to coincide with that fiasco of a Coastline election in the United Main that happened a couple of weeks ago. Some asshole named Jeb McBain was in the lead and he liked them fresh, he was giving them out as bonuses to his backers. Then he got assassinated and everything went up shit river, so who the fuck knows where these Omegas are going to go. The United Main is a fucking mess right now." Darko paused a long moment, taking deep breaths that wheezed into Nigel's phone. "You know, we could really use a heads up about all this political shit going on over there, and not from some little weasel looking to get a lesser prison sentence. You think you can convince that precious houseguest of yours to come back to the station and give us all a lesson? If McBain was the one purchasing Omegas and handing them out like candy to his financial backers, this could be the tipping point in opening up the levels of corruption. Right now the place is barely functioning politically. It would give the European Unions and the Eastern Unions an excuse to overthrow the current United Main government."

Nigel felt sick at that thought, because what Darko was suggesting was that they incite a damned world war and they hadn't had one of those since 1810, when the United Main became powerful enough financially to break off all world ties and ousted all old world Union rule, plunging the regions into chaos. "Bit of a big leap there, my friend," Nigel cautiously warned him. "I'll ask him, but he doesn't have to be there if he doesn't want to. The politics of that place have nothing to do with us, our job is to make sure Omegas aren't getting bought and sold for them, and that's where our involvement begins and ends."

"Yeah, but it's all interconnected when it comes to the United Main, with the Coastline and the Mainland being so different in how they do things, and if you read the papers these days the tension between them is getting worse..."

"It doesn't matter right now, for fuck's sake." Nigel pressed his fingertips against his brow, easing away all the uncomfortable thoughts lurking there. "Just get those unmarked cars at that warehouse and to let us know if there's any sign of activity. I'll be at the precinct in less than an hour." He hung up the cell phone and let it drop to the kitchen table, his hands bracing his aching head as he sank his face into his palms. He could sense Adam standing behind him, uncertainty marring an otherwise perfect morning. He wiped the weary feeling from his face and looked up at Adam who was standing at the sink with such a look of serious contemplation it was as if he'd just been told the moon disappeared. "No need to be so worried, darling, it's just another day at the office. Darko wants you to come to the precinct and give a little United Main politics 101. You don't have to come if you don't want to, I don't think it's that important."

"I disagree, it's vital to understanding why the trafficking of Omegas has become such a serious problem. The United Main is not a good place, there is considerable political tension between the Mainland and Coastline and very wide cultural gaps. It has hindered education and has destroyed all hope of a possible space program within the United Main. It's why I like it here, even if I did accidentally meet up with trouble, I should have stuck with Romanian and Russian based businesses. I will never make such a mistake again." Adam's eyes flitted to the floor of the kitchen and he gave the tiles a very soft smile. "Although, I must admit, that meeting you was an interesting side effect of that mistake. Sometimes doing things wrong can bring about the right answer, it forces you to see a problem in a different light." Adam steeled himself at the kitchen counter, his hands braced behind him as he clung to the faux marble rim. "I will go with you to the precinct, but I need to shower first. I have a very strict morning routine. I will try to hurry."

"Sure," Nigel said, not in the mood to argue, especially since they were so late already. "Do whatever you have to do, just don't go flying back off into Heaven."

Adam frowned at this. "Why would I do that? Besides, I don't have wings, and even if I did that would be impossible, I'm not a bird, I don't have hollow bones."

Nigel shrugged. "Isn't Heaven where angels go?"

"I'm not an angel," Adam said, making face, and Nigel laughed at this.

"Oh yes, you are. A very modern one. You got the spacesuit and everything, and like you said, all you need are wings."

Adam didn't understand what Nigel was saying and with a confused stare at him he shook the words off and headed towards the bathing room to take a shower. Nigel smiled to himself thinking about Adam's skin getting pink beneath the hot steam, and he kept all thoughts of that strictly to himself as he brought up his mug, ready to sip the last of his now cold coffee. But Adam quickly dove back into the kitchen and stole a fleeting kiss from Nigel's mouth, the affection taken from Nigel so quickly he barely had time to register the soft, quaint little lips meeting his and fluttering off like butterfly wings into an ether of memory that his consciousness frantically tried to collect.

"I think you called me an angel. That's very nice of you. Your shirt has dachshunds on it. It's playful but the colours are all mismatched in hue and aesthetically wrong, the pattern is like what a kid would wear," Adam said, grinning, and before Nigel could react, or even exclaim 'What the Hell...' Adam was gone, the shower already spewing hot water and steam.

His lips still felt the feather weight of Adam's lips and his sweet taste lingering like scant grains of sugar and what the fuck, did Adam just call his shirt ugly?

***

Adam stood in front of the dozen officers assigned to the anti-Omega trafficking brigade, who were presently staring at him with anxious expressions, arms crossed and determined to find fault with everything he said. Adam cleared his throat, and began fumbling with his laptop. He'd made a quick power point presentation during the ride into the precinct, a feat Nigel still found astonishing since he himself couldn't even open the damned program. Adam now stood in front of a large white screen, his opening notes in clear point form for all to see.

"The United Main came into being in the year 1817, after the first World Disagreement, a term historians use to describe the various wars that suddenly erupted across various countries and regions that culminated in the boundaries and laws we now live under. The Earth's politics are divided into five regions which are as follows: The European Unions, The Eastern Unions, Arctic Habitats North and South, The United Main and Unclassified Independents, which are countries and 'soft' regions that are continuously changing their boundaries. The Unclassified Independents occupy much of the Earth's surface and are fairly peaceful among themselves though the rare, occasional bloody skirmish is not unheard of. The United Main region, which is what we will be talking about today, is comprised of the land masses known as North and South America, New Zealand and the upper coastline of Australia."

Grotzky, one of Darko's lower level inspectors, snapped the toothpick he was chewing on and spit it into a waste bin near Adam's feet. "What is this shit? I thought you were going to tell us about the politics, not this grade school crap. Everyone knows what the regions are, we learn it in nursery school."

Of course it had to be Grotzky, Nigel mused with no small amount of disdain for the dishevelled officer. The man was an impatient, disgusting mass of ignorance, who wasn't beneath cracking off colour jokes while driving traumatized Omegas to the local hospital. "Try shutting your trap and learning something for a change," Nigel admonished him. "You ought to start chewing on thoughts instead of those fucking candy bars you stuff into your face all day long. Did you know that Australia was part of the United Main? No, didn't think so, they joined up a couple of years ago, so what do you know, you learned something. So sit down and shut your stupid mouth and get educated for a change, you slimy fat fuck."

Grotzky growled as he sank into his seat and glared with Alpha aggression at Adam, who was having a very hard time keeping the attention of the room. Nigel crossed his ankle over his knee and nodded at Adam to continue.

"Every region has a very different set of laws and customs, and it would take too long to go into detail as to all of them, so I will concentrate instead on The United Main. This region's wealth relies on border trading, which is why the Coastline has continued to be a place of monetary focus. A good ninety percent of all of the United Main's wealth comes from Coastline business and since they have the largest mass of unified Coastline as opposed to the Eastern and European regions which are predominantly inland based, trade has continued unencumbered for nearly two hundred years and has amassed the United Main's Coastline the majority of the world's wealth.

With this rapid accumulation of wealth and population, the Coastline has historically had to implement strict rules to govern its people. Since the concept of their trading practises were based on the religious sect known as Meso, a shortened form of an ancient middle eastern clan known as Mesopotamia, the Coastline follows the social mores of that belief system. Alphas are considered prime citizens and are given substantial perks both socially and in business, as they are the ones given optimum careers, education and interest free loans for starting businesses. Betas do not have these perks, though they may benefit from having an Alpha partner and can earn contacts for employment through them, though they are rarely afforded positions of power within government or in highly successful companies. The United Main has a fierce obsession with gender exclusion, which is difficult for the other regions to comprehend. The origins of this gender inequality seem to stem from modernist Meso teachings that suggest aggression and hormones relating to aggression are to be prized, pheromones Alphas contain in abundance. Supposedly 'softer' hormones, related to childbirth and supposed submissives, are not prized because they do not bring skill to battle, but rather are designed to avoid it. Rearing a child takes a great deal of energy away from conquering enemies, and forces a temperance of greed. An unspoken resentment of this is evident in Coastline policies, though the importance of continuing the production of Alphas is also considered of prime importance. Thus, a cultural conundrum. In United Main Coastline society, Omegas are to be hidden away, they are not permitted to walk the streets of Coastline cities without their Alpha beside them, and their sole purpose is to continue the Alpha lineage. Omegas are usually bonded at a very young age, the average being sixteen, and from that moment are the sole property of their Alphas and are never permitted to leave the confines of their homes save for public ceremonies, where they are put on public display to be exalted for their beauty."

An ugly quiet had come over the dozen officers under Nigel's charge and he crossed his arms, knowing what came next in Adam's presentation. They had a good idea of what was going on in the United Main, but it was a very different thing to be told it from the perspective of an Omega who was actually from the region, the oppression they witnessed every day given a face, and a rather elegant, angelic one at that.

Adam stood in front of the screen and eyed the crowd of politia Romana with a sense of shy trepidation. The computer hummed beside him at his hip and the image he had used to highlight this next segment in his presentation was one of malignant controversy. A 1927 sepia photograph of a male Omega, an iron clasp at his neck indicating the United Main practice of 'bonding', his face bruised and a stark, despairing emptiness swirling within his gaze that only a psychopath couldn't empathize with. Adam cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the image himself, but from the murmurs among his officers he'd already accentuated his point.

"This treatment of Omegas is extremely stifling to United Main society, and maintaining these laws are the responsibility of the Gender Sentry Forces, or the GSF. They are a group separate from general police forces and the FBI, and are solely in charge of all gender related crimes. As can be imagined, Omegas are not given the opportunities that other genders are, and even if they do show significant intellectual prowess, they are not permitted to expand upon them. Thus, gender subterfuge has become an increasing problem. There is a recent case from Baltimore, where a few months ago a talented male Omega psychiatrist and surgeon was forced to give up his license when it was discovered he was lying about being an Alpha. He is currently bonded to an Alpha, and from what I have read in current articles, is now sequestered in their home and raising a child. He was a very successful psychiatrist prior to his outing and now that he is bonded, it is his Alpha that holds all of his money and assets. Should his Alpha decide he no longer wants him, he can call the GSF and accuse his Omega of being noncompliant and they will sequester him in a GSF facility for 'retraining'. This merely means he will be institutionalized indefinitely until his Alpha decides if and when he wants him back. This particular Omega was lucky in that his Alpha allowed him to continue to work, however, his attempts to continue his practise were met with a great deal of resistance and his office had been vandalized. It has clearly been determined that it is too unsafe for him to continue his practise, especially when a child is now involved and public sentiment is so negative."

Darko sneered in response to this, though it wasn't directed at Adam. He shifted in his plastic chair, the darkness of the room not hiding the fact that the politia Romana's anti-Omega trafficking brigade had some serious monetary issues, as evidenced by the scuffed, ancient desks and neglected, overburdened offices. Right now they were watching Adam's presentation in a room usually reserved for criminals waiting to be processed, and the longer they stayed in here the more they earned dirty looks through the dusty windows from the lower level chesters forced to keep crooks in cramped seating near the front desk. Darko glared at one of the younger chesters peering through the window and flipped him his middle finger, a clear sign to mind his own damned business.

"You're a smart guy, Adam, so I don't get it. How did you manage to get a position at Roscosmos if you're a male Omega from the United Main? You're not bonded..." Darko glanced over at Nigel and didn't hide his concern. "At least, not yet. So what gives? How can you be standing here telling us how it's all so oppressive and yet you clearly have managed just fine."

Adam blinked in confusion at this and his voice was soft and nervous as he replied, his eyes darting through the crowd but not meeting their gaze or truly seeing any of them. Nigel could tell he was starting to spiral into a sense of panic and while Darko had a valid point, he had to fight the urge to run up and gentle the back of Adam's neck, a gesture he probably would find embarrassing in front of so many people. Fuck, he was so fragile and sweet standing up there, like a little leaf in a gentle breeze. His poor little spaceman...

"I did not grow up on the Coastline, I am from the Mainland," Adam said, the note of pride within this admission belying an inner strength that was wholly unexpected. Adam straightened up at he marched to his laptop and flicked past other, less relevant sections of his power point presentation, settling onto an image of a shack with two smiling, dirty children in front of it, and two male farmers leaning against a post, one of them smoking a cigarette. "This is what the Mainland still looks like," Adam said, and the corners of his lips actually upturned at this image that others in the room were determining was one of abject poverty. "We are not subject to Coastline laws and are predominantly land based. The Coastline, being vast, has had no need to tap into the rich resources within the Mainland, and this large, mostly neglected region has thrived with its own version of economy and social mores. It is, in many ways, an alternate universe to the one offered by the Coastline."

Adam was proud of this analogy, and he smiled over it, though his audience didn't get what he meant by it. Nigel slid a cigarette between his lips and, remembering he now only had four left for the rest of the day, he quickly secreted it into the top left pocket of his bowling shirt. "Just how different are we talking about?" Nigel asked, and his crew nodded in agreement with this question.

"As different as the Earth is from the moon," Adam said, and Nigel worried that Adam would start going off about quarks and quasars instead of the necessary information they needed. But he was surprisingly restrained and he turned back to his power point notes to keep him focused. "This image, taken in 1917, is a highly relevant example of Mainland life. Not much has changed. The people do not fully settle in the Mainland and they move around a lot, usually in a circular pattern within either continent. I myself grew up in a small area called Two Cent, in a larger province known as Upper Ohio, which takes up a considerable amount of space along the shores of Lake Erie, and my father and I did travel up and down that lake many times throughout the year to obtain supplies and employment. The Mainland operates on a mostly barter system since so much of their economy is excluded from Coastline influence. Occasionally, Mainlanders take work on the Coastline to obtain certain necessities, such as food supplies, which are meant to last them throughout the year, and it is not uncommon for them to do contractual work and to return to the Mainland at first opportunity. Though the area is rich for farmland, the Coastline takes most of the crops through enforced tariffs and leaves very little for the Mainlanders to survive on. Thus, the people within the core of the continents have become more nomadic, and it is not uncommon for strangers to suddenly appear in one's home and seek food and refuge, which is to be given without question as per Mainland culture."

Grotzky coughed at this, his arms crossed over his wide chest as he looked at the image of the farmers and the laughing, dirty children on the their front porch. "What has this got to do with anything? All I am hearing is that you are some country bumpkin, it doesn't explain how you ended up here."

Nigel was about to tell Grotzky off again, to tell him to be patient and stop flapping his ugly mouth, only for Adam to be the one to shut him down. "The relevancy of this photograph is significant because the two farmers are an Alpha and an Omega. These are *their* children. As you can see, there is no gender line between who can or can't work, or issues of dominance between them. This is a joint effort, and it is proof of the egalitarian nature of the Mainland culture that is in direct opposition to the Coastline laws. Omegas are permitted a great deal of autonomy in Mainland culture and are free to pick and chose what lovers they wish. They are not obligated to bond with anyone and are in fact encouraged to enjoy their sexuality. The choice of a mate is solely in the Omega's domain, and there are rarely Alpha confrontations as a result. The Coastline has misinterpreted this freedom as 'uncivilized' and there have been accusations that Omegas are victimized, often raped in Mainland society. I can tell you from experience that this is an outright lie. I have been in heat in a room full of Mainland Alphas and though they expressed interest, they would not touch me without my consent. This is not true of Coastliners, who see an Omega in public as an object of sexual use." Adam shrugged off this information as though it was common knowledge, not recognizing that the sudden quiet in the room was indicative that the officers had received quite a detailed education.

"You were in heat and you were out in public?" a young officer in the back row asked, and Nigel turned to see who it was. Inspector Dula, the youngest member of his team, and an Omega himself. Dula shook his head at the very thought. "I have to take the time off even with suppressants, and even with our anti-discrimination laws I can't walk around Bucharest stinking of Omega hormones and slick. Not to mention it's hard to resist attention at some point during it. How did you manage it?"

"The Alphas were uninteresting to me," Adam said, as though this was enough information. Then, thinking maybe he should expand upon his explanation, "Of course, I do have toys. They sufficed. I highly recommend the Knot Tickler, it's quite an effective tool to ease the discomfort of heat. I can email you the company catalogue."

If Adam was disturbed by the sudden open mouthed shock he was given at this highly personal admission, he didn't show it. "I myself am still a virgin, in the Omega sense, but I do enjoy the stimulus of touch from a willing partner and one does not always need sex to obtain that comfort. For instance, last night I slept with Inspector Ionescu, and I was content to simply be embraced by him. Touch is important to Omegas, especially by partners they find desirable."

Nigel could feel every eye in the room boring fiery holes into him, and he shrank in mortification in his seat, his bottom lip chewed fiercely as Adam continued, oblivious to the embarrassment he'd just caused. Nigel tried and failed to avoid seeing Darko's mouthed 'What the fuck?' directed at him, and Nigel hid his face under the pretence of scratching his brow with his fingertips.

"In regards to Mainland versus Coastline culture, this vast difference in belief systems has caused no end of conflict. I am not suggesting that the lifestyle of the Mainland is one that is ideal, it is simply one that I am most familiar with. It was very frustrating not being able to pursue my education, and efforts to leave the United Main region to come here were shrouded in secrecy. I had to take an overdose of suppressants to pass as a Beta through airport security in New York and I did not feel secure of my escape from Coastline scrutiny until I was well established into my position at Roscosmos. The GSF are always on high alert as to the movements of Omegas from the Coastline areas. The GSF are rumoured to be highly volatile members of law enforcement and are of dubious moral character at best. Most instances of Omega rape occur between bonded Omegas and their Alpha partners or increasingly at GSF facilities."

Adam was about to continue with is presentation, but Nigel cut him short, leaving his seat and closing the laptop which Adam tried to protest. "But I have another hour's worth of information!"

"We have what we need, Adam," Nigel softly said to him.

The officers began to disperse and Darko approached them, his face pinched into an expression of extreme distaste. "I've talked to those GSF bastards in the past, they've never been helpful. I half suspect some of them are traffickers themselves, especially given how easily they have access to vulnerable Omegas. It's an angle I think we should be thinking about." He gave Adam a disgruntled nod. "Thanks for the information. This actually helps."

Adam lit up at this, and Nigel felt a surge of pride for the Omega, every facet of delight dancing through Adam's being and alighting like bursting stars on the surface of his soul. His eyes briefly met Nigel's before turning away, his smile wide and blindly seeking approval for his joy. "I'm glad, Inspector Darko. I hope you aren't angry with Inspector Ionescu, he really didn't do anything last night he just fell asleep. I don't fully understand how things are done here in the Eastern Region, people are open but they aren't, it's very confusing."

"You're blameless," Darko said, and he glared at Nigel, who took the admonishment for what it was.

"I'm not taking advantage of him, Darko." Nigel sighed and steered Adam out of the room, the laptop tucked tight under Adam's arm as he happily allowed the touch and even sank into it a little, much to Nigel's consternation. Nigel turned back towards Darko, talking to him over his shoulder. "Any word on the whereabouts of Mason Verger?"

Darko shook his head. "He's been off our radar for far too long and I don't like it. With this raid coming up I have half a mind to expect him at the exchange, and you know if that's happening it's going to be a dangerous takedown, he's got some expert hired muscle with him." He glanced over at Adam, who was now heading for Nigel's desk and he held Nigel back with a tug on his arm. "Look, the guy's a sweet piece, I'll give you that, and he obviously adores the fuck out of you, but dammit, Nigel, the whole office is going to be talking now. He's got no filter, does he? Subcomisar Grocker is going to know about this, that shit Grotzky will make sure of it. Get ready for some bullshit fallout."

Nigel scoffed at this. The unlit cigarette he'd tucked into his shirt pocket was back at his lips, ready to be lit. He brought the flame of his lighter against the tip and sucked on it with blissed out passion, his eyes closing over the rush of nicotine coursing through his system. "We all have vices, Darko, but I'm not a fucking creep, I'm being a fucking gentleman if you can believe that."

"Kind of makes me wonder," Darko said, frowning as he looked on Adam who was now seated at Nigel's desk, his laptop opened once again, slender fingers working away at the keys. He approached Adam and sat on the corner of Nigel's desk, Nigel watching Darko carefully in unspoken question. "Hey, Adam, I'm curious, did you ever actually meet Mason Verger?"

"Yes," Adam said, not looking up from his computer.

Nigel felt a sick feeling in his stomach at this. Mason Verger was on their watch list and he wasn't permitted on Romanian soil due to several cases of pederasty he was involved in when he had visited Bucharest in his youth. When it came to being a human piece of shit, Mason Verger's face is what first came to mind. "That's quite upsetting, darling. He is an exceptionally dangerous man and you are very lucky to have escaped his clutches. What can you tell me about him?"

Adam frowned and kept typing. Nigel closed the laptop gently, disorienting Adam from his distraction. "I...I didn't like him. He kept trying to touch me, and I could tell he was aroused and there was something very wrong about it. It's strange that I can't explain it, I don't usually feel that kind of suspicion around others, perhaps it was his hormonal scent that alerted me to a sense of danger. He kept offering me chocolate and I refused. He talked to me like I was a simple child, which was uncalled for. I'm a grown adult who is far from mentally deficient. I'm not Forest Gump. I found his patronizing speech highly offensive."

A burning sensation of rage flowed through Nigel at this, the very thought of a slimy piece of human garbage like Mason Verger thinking he had any right whatsoever to touch his little spaceman angel...He fought to keep the involuntary growl at his thoughts suppressed, but Darko was giving him an alarmed unspoken warning through the corner of his eye and Adam stepped back, meekly acknowledging Alpha anger.

"It's not you, Adam." Nigel sank into his chair at his desk and lightly stroked the back of Adam's hand, the Omega shaking at the touch. "I'm furious at the thought of an awful person like Mason Verger even being in the same room as you."

"You instinctively wish to protect me," Adam clarified, and Nigel sighed in impatient agreement, wishing with all he had that Darko wasn't looking on in his usual judgement.

"He infantilized you and offered you a chocolate," Darko said, and with the facts of the interaction laid out that plainly, the plans Verger had for Adam took on a far more sinister perspective. Darko clearly understood it as well, for he grimaced in disgust and shook his shoulders as though feeling the touch of Verger on him himself. "When exactly did you meet him?"

"Five months ago, on February 28th. I had come to Romania with a colleague for a week long vacation and was offered a permanent position with the IT department at Verger Corporation at that time, and I had refused it because I was still working with Roscosmos. It's why I contacted them when I was fired. They had a contract IT position and they accepted my application immediately," Adam replied, not missing a beat. "Four o'clock p.m., he was with two other associates, one of whom was the owner of the club and the other was from the United Main. He wore a suit and carried a leather briefcase with a gold handle. He did not stand close to Mr. Verger, and refused to shake the hand of the club owner, which was rude."

"And you haven't seen Verger or this associate since?" Darko asked, and Adam shook his head.

"Not Mason Verger, no, but I did see his associate with the same gold handled briefcase at the club on Monday. He still didn't shake the club owner's hand. "

Nigel stood next to Darko, the wheels turning in fast, connecting gears as he pieced together what Adam was saying. "Gold handled briefcase. That's the money and that guy was his accountant. Sounds like he might be a weak link if he's not willing to play nice with the goods provider. What else do you remember about him, Adam?"

"He was very nervous and sweaty, a Beta, he has a scar on his left cheek and he was balding, mid to late forties, a soft accent, possibly Australian, dialect from the Sydney Coastline. Since portions of Australia are new to the United Main Coastline, I would say he is not accustomed to the business etiquette of the upper North American region."

"I don't think it's that, darling, I think it's more a case of lazy remorse." Nigel shook his head and Darko gave him an understanding nod.

"You don't have to tell me twice, I'm on it. We'll check for all foreign accountancy hires on the Verger payroll, focusing on ones from Australia. This is a huge lead, you're a godsend, Adam." Darko smacked his shoulder with his palm as he left and Adam flinched at the touch.

A steady silence grew between Nigel and Adam, one that wasn't uncomfortable but merely pensive as Adam slowly worked through the process of subtle information he had both given and received that morning. Nigel shuffled through his paperwork and began the gruelling task of going over the Verger accounts, a continuation of yesterday's investigation. Adam was agitated, his knee was shaking, Nigel noted, and he was wringing his hands again, hints of an anxiety that was gradually building up within him and needed to be quelled lest it overtake him. He had a head full of the complexities of the universe and yet the base cruelties of the earthbound world aimed to crush him. It was a difficult thing to be an angel, Nigel mused, and he placed a strong hand over Adam's fidgeting digits, stopping him from the rhythmic wringing. "What's going on in that beautiful, brilliant brain of yours now?"

"I'm thinking about your job," Adam said, and Nigel pursed his lips in surprise at this.

"What about it?"

Adam's eyes were wide and glassy with unshed tears. "Your work is dangerous. You have red knuckles and I noticed some latent healing and old injury to them so you have used your fists on bad people before and there's a good chance you have been hurt as well, statistically that would be a given."

"There's always that risk," Nigel agreed.

Adam licked his lips, choosing his words very carefully, as though afraid the weight of them were bullets. "You help Omegas who are being hurt and you often see the worst of what can happen to them. I did some research while you were sleeping beside me this morning and read the newspaper reports on the kind of work you do and it makes me feel very frightened and sad for the people you are rescuing and it makes me very uncomfortable seeing that people can be hurt like that. I never truly understood it before I studied it and read those articles. I was able to stand outside of it if I didn't expose myself to the truth too much, but now that I know...It's very difficult what you do. The things you deal with make me cry. I really don't like seeing people hurt."

How precious his little spaceman was. Nigel wiped away an errant tear with his thumb, a habit that was forming if he cared to inspect it, and he couldn't quite figure out what this soft, warm feeling was that was overtaking him every time he had Adam with him, or even thought about him. The fact he was so genuinely confused by the evils of the world was what made his existence so very necessary, Nigel thought. What would it be like, he wondered, if all the fucked up shit and the rotten things people do to each other was simply incomprehensible? He'd love to have that kind of perspective, and the closest he was going to get it was with Adam Fucking Raki, who was fast becoming his soul's guardian angel.

"I don't like seeing people hurt, either, darling. Especially not ones who don't deserve it. It upsets me a great deal, too."

Adam sniffed at this and another tear escaped, followed by another on the opposite cheek and Nigel pouted at his little spaceman's sorrow, framing his face into his hands and wiping away his worry as best he could. "But you don't cry," Adam said, and it took every ounce of willpower within Nigel not to kiss Adam's confusion away.

"Oh yes, I do, my darling angel. I cry a whole fucking lot."