Chapter Text
Michael went on work trips all the time, so he hardly thought about it when Ms. Robinson asked him to go with her to Marrakech. He didn't even look the place up before going, and all he knew was that it was in Morocco.
That was probably why he was completely unprepared for the souks.
Michael and Ms. Robinson had just gotten off the flight and they were already wandering the souks. They were overwhelming, loud, and crowded, and even though Michael didn't speak Arabic, he'd picked up on enough French to know that several people were making fun of him for looking lost. It was fine, though, because Michael was used to looking lost. And being made fun of. Not always in the same instance, though it wasn't uncommon.
"So, what exactly are we here for?" he asked Ms. Robinson a bit timidly. It was usually his job to know that kind of thing, but she'd been a bit secretive about this one.
"I am simply meeting with an associate. He's here, and most likely to be in the souks," she responded vaguely. "I'm not entirely certain what he looks like these days, but I'll know him when I see him. He's hard to miss."
Michael raised an eyebrow, a bit confused by the description. "O...kay?" He laughed, a sound less of humor and more just a nervous acknowledgment that he wasn't going to get any more specific instructions. "So... what do you need me for?"
"Gerard may have something that I'll need you to look into." Ms. Robinson sighed, rubbing her temples in thought. "That being said, you aren't needed in this meeting. If you'd like to go explore the souks, please feel free." She handed him four hundred dirhams. "The ratio is approximately one hundred to twenty. This is around eighty pounds."
Michael's eyes went wide. "Oh- Um... what do you want me to spend it on?" he asked. "I mean, there's a lot of things but none of them look particularly necessary for work-"
"I do not care," Ms. Robinson said flippantly. "Treat yourself. Don't forget to haggle, you'll get more that way."
And with that, she walked away leaving Michael alone in a crowd of strangers. Right. Okay. He could handle this. He knew how to be in unfamiliar situations. Only he didn't because every day he went to work at his boring office job, filed papers all day, researched, went home, and sat on the sofa watching Grand Designs and pretending to care about peoples' excessive home renovations while ignoring how empty he felt being there alone with his microwaved dinners. The only times he traveled like this were the work trips, and those were all spent by Ms. Robinson's side helping her with research, or reading small print for her, or taking notes, or carrying things. He was never left to wander!
Also, how well would she do with no one with her? She was just a frail old granny, and the souks were crowded and chaotic. But she had left him there, so she probably knew what she was doing. Besides, he couldn't find her anyway, so he might as well just... look around...
He stopped by a few shops, wondering what he should try to get. First he looked around for some items of his own, but rather quickly his thoughts drifted to his coworkers. Maybe he could buy something for them? But he wasn't really seeing anything.
Until he saw the absolute best thing he could have possibly seen—an adorable calico cat sitting at a corner and licking her paw.
He grinned and knelt down next to her, putting a hand out. "Hey, kitty- pspspspspspsps-" Between the noise of the shops and his attention to the cat, Michael barely heard the motor approaching him until a hand yanked him backward. The cat scurried away as a motorcycle and its shouting driver passed right where Michael had just been.
He turned to face the person who had saved him and holy shit. The man was clad head to toe in black and leather. He had black hair, though his red roots had begun to grow out, and on his jaw, neck, and knuckles were tattooed eyes. They were a bit unsettling, but more than anything, the man drew him in.
"You really ought to be more careful," he said in a British accent, still not letting go of Michael's hand. "Also, don't pet stray cats. I watched her bite a tourist before you came along."
"Oh-" Michael stuttered. "Right. Well, uh- yes, I suppose I will have to be careful and-" He went to stick out his hand for a handshake only to remember the stranger was still holding it. "Uh- I'm Michael. What's your name?"
"I'm G-"
"Gerard," came Ms. Robinson's voice from behind Michael. He whirled around to look at her. The glint in her eyes was icy, nothing he had seen on her before. Usually she was just a sweet docile old granny, but this... this was unusual.
Gerard's face just lit up into a grin, though there was something behind it that Michael could tell he was missing. It was... off. Almost sinister, in a way, but not quite that. "Gertie!" he greeted, putting a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Is he one of yours then?"
Michael raised an eyebrow and looked between the two. Ms. Robinson had mentioned that her contact's name was Gerard... could this be him? He seemed a bit unlike someone who would be working with a research institute, but one could never be certain.
"Michael is one of my assistants, yes," Ms. Robinson answered, her face resuming its usual unthreatening aura. "He's supposed to be treating himself in the souks."
Gerard began laughing immediately. "Wasting Bouchard's money?" he asked. His voice made it difficult to discern whether or not the question was a joke. Michael was leaning toward no, though, based on the fact that Ms. Robinson's reply was a mere shrug. "Look, what are you actually doing here?"
He didn't know? Wasn't he supposed to be meeting with Ms. Robinson? "Attempting to find you," she answered calmly. "I got word that you were headed to Marrakech, and I was sure there must be a reason. Off on another hunt?"
Gerard shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm on vacation." He removed his hand from Michael's shoulder and crossed his arms. "Attempt at getting away from my dear old mum."
Ms. Robinson frowned. "I thought she died."
"Yeah, well, you know her," Gerard replied with a shrug.
Ms. Robinson just sighed. "Indeed." Okay, so Michael was somehow more confused now. "So how did you come across my assistant?"
Gerard rolled his eyes. "Mr. Curls here doesn't know how to handle being in a new place on his own—"
"Hey—!"
"—and I stopped him getting hit by a motorcycle."
Ms. Robinson looked to Michael. She shook her head and tutted in disappointment. "Michael, do try not to get yourself hospitalized, dear." She turned back to Gerard. "Now, Gerard, I am here to meet with you."
Gerard laughed and shook his head. "Like hell you are," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm here to get away from all this shit, and I don't need associates of my mum—"
"I am not Mary's associate, and I would advise against suggesting such in the future," Ms. Robinson argued, looking at Gerard with a hard stare that Michael hadn't seen on her before.
"I don't care!" Gerard snapped. "You're from her world, and you were friendly to her. That's enough for me to want you to stay the fuck away from me while I'm trying to relax and enjoy my life without this bullshit following me around, you hear?"
Ms. Robinson looked grim. "It's already following you. You know that."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want it following me more. I don't have a Leitner, I don't have any leads, and I don't need your fucking help."
Ms. Robinson shrugged. "I could eliminate your problem."
"You're going to have to be more specific than that," Gerard laughed. "I have many, many problems, very few of which you can solve."
"You know the one I'm referring to."
Michael felt a little uncomfortable in the middle of whatever stare-down that was happening between a mysterious goth and an old lady, but it was over within a moment or two when Gerard looked away. "I'll consider it." He looked to Michael, then back at Ms. Robinson. "Take better care of your assistants."
Ms. Robinson crossed her arms. "I suggest you mind your own business, Gerard."
Gerard just rolled his eyes and walked away.