ADDI THE BADDI
BB (I've given up thinking of his full name. Tbh, the more I think of him, the more dependent on him I might become, which is obviously not ideal. This, shortening his name to two letters was necessary) stops abruptly. I almost hurtle into him. He reveals the item he stole from reception—a keychain lodged with a bunch of keys and a blank white card. He presses the card to the reader by the glass door and it slides open. "Welcome," he says grandly, "to the Room of Requirement."
"What? Like in the Harry Potter books?"
"Crazy, right! Are you a Potterhead too?"
I roll my eyes. "I don't like to give J. K. Rowling that sort of credit. But yes, I've read the books."
And wrote a little something on them...
"What house are you in?" BB asks. "Actually, let me guess. Too cold to be a Hufflepuff, not carpe-diem enough to be a Gryffindor... are you a Slytherin?"
"Ravenclaw."
He smacks himself on the forehead. "Why didn't I think of that! Okay, guess me."
"We don't have time for this," I tell him, turning into the hallway behind the door. It is then that I become extremely aware that I might have been absolutely wrong to trust BB at all. I spin quickly, my stance ready to defend. He throws his hands up, a look of fear crossing his features. "I don't trust you."
"Sounds like a Slytherin thing."
"I want the keys. Toss them over."
"Wait, no. I don't trust you," he replies, gripping the keys tighter. "You're more likely to be the spy."
"I'm not a spy," I mutter. "I'm clearly not that smart."
"You're a Ravenclaw."
I straighten a little. "Ravenclaws aren't smart, we just value knowledge."
"Sounds smart to me."
"You clearly aren't a Ravenclaw."
"Are you saying I'm dumb?"
I shrug. "Your words, not mine."
"Well, my point still stands. You aren't from Canada—thanks for butchering our accent, by the way—and you 'value knowledge', which still sounds like a spy thing to do," BB reasons. "I don't trust you."
My mind works overtime to show my trust. But honestly? People don't really trust me and I've never really trusted them. Ideally I'd hand him a wad of cash. But I don't think buying off this idiot will work. "Hufflepuff," I try. "If you're a Gryffindor, then you can keep the keys."
He tosses the keys and I catch them in two hands. I arrange the keys between my knuckles and nod for him to relax. "How'd you know?"
"Hufflepuffs are good finders, and you found a reason to not trust me."
"That's a bit of a stretch."
"Yeah," I admit. "You just seemed dumb like one."
"Are you sure you're not a Slytherin?"
"I've taken the test three times—when I was ten, twelve and fourteen," I explain. "Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Slytherin."
"What?" he gasps.
"It's easier when people assume all you ever do is read books."
"Damn, you really are a Slytherin," he awes. "But not a spy?"
"No. Here to salvage my extraction mission."
"Looking for someone," he mutters, then frowns. "Just you?"
"It's just one person I'm looking for."
"And that's it? You swear you won't leak our database to the world?"
"I don't think my word means anything to you."
"Wait, say that again."
I give him a look. "I don't think my word means anything to you?"
"You're Australian!" BB glees and does as any non-Australian would: butchers our accent. "G'day, mate! How 'bout a shrimp on the—"
"Stop, please," I say, covering my ears. "We really don't have that much time."
"Right," BB says, solemnity washing over. "Who are we looking for?"
"Cosplay. Thomas Cosplay."
I know he wants to comment on his name, but says nothing. BB takes a step forward and I'm walking backwards to keep our two metre gap. He turns to a door and taps it. "This one."
I unlock the door to find a single computer and a filing cabinet wall, extending to the very high ceiling. He slips by me, heading for the computer. "How do you spell Cosplay?"
Without answering his question, I pace towards the back wall. Then, a crazy buzzing at my hip. I glare at my pack. My neck snaps up to Ben, who shares my panic.
