likeable to the Norse
Prompt: SG-1/Dresden Files, Dresden + mini!Jack + Marcone - Dresden's new friend is a teenager with jaded eyes and too competent skills.
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Gard, Marcone's supernatural bodyguard, had flirted with me a time or two, mostly in the heat of battle, so I was surprised to see her turn up the charm for the teen in a bomber jacket. If she had a type, I could see no similarities. Then again, the teen wasn't reacting like most his age would. Oh, he was flirting back, but more of the 'letting someone down easy' variety rather than escalating matters.
Marcone was trying to hire the kid that had stepped cold into a supernatural skirmish with an outside-the-box analysis and solutions, clear eyes and steady hands. I was trying to dissuade him without starting a(nother) war. Gard was distracting us both. For obvious reasons, Marcone and I both wanted to know what the kid was. No normal human would have been able to roll with the punches that well, let alone plan a victory with so little foreknowledge.
The kid was remaining stubbornly closemouthed, and then some.
Marcone didn't even manage to get a name or whether the kid was a resident or a visitor to our fair city. When the kid had turned down Gard with the grace and experience of a man three times his age he simply walked away. Marcone might not have wanted to make a spectacle of himself chasing him down, but I didn't mind. Half the people in Chicago already thought I was crazy anyway and I really wanted my questions answered.
Don't tell me about curiosity and the cat. Hells bells, I've already been dead.
When I told him that I owed him a beer his eyes lit up. I bet most places looked at his deceptively young body and not his eyes and refused to serve him alcohol. I had no doubts that his age was closer to mine than to my apprentice's, no matter his appearance.
I took him to Mac's and found out he appreciated fine beer, could hold his liquor, and his name was Jack. He had planned on just passing through, but asked me if I wanted back-up.
I wasn't dumb enough to refuse the offer. Still I had to ask, "Who are you? Gard likes you and, let me tell you, it takes a lot to impress that Valhyrie."
"I'm likeable to the Norse Pantheon."
I had to parse out that statement and it was a statement of fact, not a brag nor a supposition. Jack finished his beer and looked at me hopefully. "Another?"
"Sure, why not?" If I was trading Mac's delicious ale for true answers, I had a lot of beer to buy.