Serval and Sheep (Chapter 40)
Hafsa visits the ram fighting club on a secret mission.
"Dude, this is super weird."
"Super fucking weird."
Marcel looks up at his yak companion. "Dude, I'm getting a weird deja vu."
"Same."
Almost as if by instinct, the two bovids look behind them expecting an irate Jacob sheep ready to yank them by the horns. However, the ram fighting captain is nowhere near them. Instead, he huddles in a corner of the small, sweaty training room as if trying to melt into the wall.
Leslie and Hafsa, who chat by the bench, also notice this.
"Does he usually do this?" Hafsa asks, tilting her head to get a better view of the ram.
Leslie grimaces. "Just pretend he's warming up." He turns back to her. "But, remind me again to what we owe the pleasure of you sitting in during our practice."
The serval smiles. "Oh, me and the cheerleading girls were talking, and we think we can really improve our routine for ram fighting. You could say I'm here for research purposes. Looking for stuff we can incorporate in our cheers."
This is a lie, of course. In reality, Hafsa is fully invested in the 'girl detective' narrative she has convinced herself she is starring in. She's hot on the trails of the sheep-scented stalker that had been lurking around campus grounds last night, and decided to carry out a recon mission in the hopes of identifying what sheep it was that she sniffed. Though her sense of smell isn't her strongest attribute (that would go to her hearing) especially compared to other animals, she's fairly confident she could pick out the suspect if she happened across the whiff again. And a ram-fighting session, where all of the sheep are at their smelliest, is the perfect place to start looking.
She had begged Desmond to allow her to oversee a training session under this pretense, for which she had even dressed up in her cheerleading uniform. She was shocked he even said yes despite his skeptical expression.
"You wouldn't be the first cat to come by," he said. "Priya visited us once. Well, Pete invited her. Just... behave yourself while you're there."
"Are you scared I'll eat one of your teammates?" Hafsa teased.
Desmond isn't scared of that. But make no mistake, he is terrified. It's as if God saw his behavior during Priya's visit and decided he was too composed, so sent Hafsa to truly make him lose his sanity. Of all the clubs in all the schools in all the world, she walks into his. He's confused enough around her as it is, and now she just waltzes in his safe space, donned in miniskirt and crop top, and he's expected to act natural?!
This is what the rabid, frenzied, left side of Desmond's brain is thinking of. Meanwhile, his more logical right side trying to work this out. He could tell instantly that her so-called reason for being here is a total cop-out. Research for cheerleading? Please. There has to be another reason for why she would ever want to sit and watch a bunch of sweaty rams wrestle in the dingy gym basement. So what on Earth is she plotting?
It could be like she jokingly said: she could be perusing the metaphorical menu, deciding which one of the rams would be most delicious and put up less of a fight during an attack. No, no, what a horrible thing to think. How could that even come to mind after all they've been through?
The only other possible reason he can think of... is that she's interested in his life. Maybe she just wants to see him doing something he likes and joking around with the other males. Maybe she wants to see him in a spandex singlet. It's a ridiculously presumptuous theory, no matter how delighted it makes him... but surely it can't be a coincidence that he is in the club she's decided to oversee. Can it?
"Hey, Four Horns," Leslie's voice drags him back into reality. "Is this corner really comfortable or something?"
Desmond gives a sharp tug on the urial's beard. "It's kind of drafty, actually."
Leslie sighs. "Listen, while I think this is how you should've been acting when Pete brought the tigress over, maybe you need to buck up and at least say hi. She's the student council president after all."
"I'm getting to that!" The younger bovid hisses. "Speaking of Pete, where the hell is he?"
"Marcie told me he'll be a little late. He's getting yelled at by a teacher again."
"Sounds like Pete."
"In any case," The urial pats Desmond's back. "No need to be shy. I hope you don't get like this during student council meetings."
"I'm not in a leotard during meetings."
"Nor do you wear those cute little tennis balls on your horns, but here we are. She's seen all of us in gear during our matches, remember?"
Desmond grumbles some nondescript comeback involving Leslie's mother and stomps off towards the serval, leaving a smirking Leslie to join the other rams.
Hafsa grins at the incoming sheep, waving a pompom in greeting. "Some corner that is, huh?"
"Tee-hee," Desmond deadpans. "You and Les seemed to be hitting it off."
"He's a nice guy. He looks like a 'reliable big brother' type." She giggles. And his scent doesn't match what she's looking for. He's clean.
Desmond looks at the urial, who is trying to solve an argument between Elmer and Marcel (something about how to spell deja vu). "You're not too far from the truth."
"So, Mr. Club President," The serval bends to meet his gaze with a conspiratorial whisper. "What are we waiting for?"
The sheep turns his suddenly-hot face away. "We're still missing a ram, the 'idiotic younger brother' type. But Les just told me he's gonna be late, so we might as well start warming up without him."
As if on cue, the idiotic younger brother type bursts through the sliding door. "Sorry I'm late!"
"'Bout time, Peewee!" Elmer greets.
"Hope you didn't get chewed out too bad." Marcel chuckles.
Peter snorts. "Part of the game, baby. You fall asleep in class one time--"
Leslie raises a brow. "One?"
"Okay, you fall asleep in class six times," the bighorn sheep corrects himself. "And they act like you brought a damn gun to school. Not my fault I didn't get much sleep last night."
"I think that's entirely your fault, Pete." Leslie notes.
"You're real fuckin' smart today, huh--" Peter stops himself when his eyes fall on the serval to his right, and suddenly his tone becomes much more dulcet. "Ohhh, hi, Pres. What brings you here?"
"Hi, Peter!" Hafsa greets cheerfully. "Do you mind if I sit through today's training?"
The sheep smooths out his wool. "I don't know if I'll be able to concentrate with such a pretty female around."
"Alright, concentrate on not making an ass out of yourself first. Get dressed." Desmond snaps.
The group of animals share a chuckle, but Hafsa's smile freezes as soon as Peter walks past her.
He smells like the stalker.
All throughout the training session, Hafsa's eyes remain glued on Peter. She inspects every movement, every twitch of the muscles as he goes through his drills, hoping that somehow, with enough scrutiny, she would discover some truth.
Her hopes fall flat, however. No matter how much she stares and squints, the bighorn sheep appears to be a normal student in every regard. High-spirited, funny, noisy, a little crass, eager to show off... just a regular male. Could he really have been the animal creeping around that night? Worse yet, could he somehow be responsible for the Lupercalia disappearance? The more she thinks about it, the less convinced she becomes.
But her nose doesn't lie. When going close to him to strike up a conversation under the guise of "cheerleading" research, his scent is undeniably the same as whatever passed her by that night. She doesn't take her eyes off of him until Desmond announces the end of the session an hour and a half later and the rams all trickle into the locker rooms.
Eventually, they begin to emerge. Specifically, Peter is the first one out. He walks up to Hafsa with a carefree smile. "How'dya enjoy the show, Pres? Not many people are lucky enough to witness us train!"
Hafsa chuckles. " What an honor! It looks like Priya and I know more about ram fighting than most bovids, huh?"
Peter's smile fades at the mention of the white tiger. Hafsa's ear twitches with perplexity at this reaction. However, it's short-lived, and Peter goes back to his wide grin.
"Heh heh, right on! Maybe we should start recruiting felines next year!"
Before Hafsa can even think about probing deeper, Marcel trots out of the locker room to the serval and sheep.
"Hey, Petey, you left your deodorant behind!" He hands a stick of wool-suitable antiperspirant to the larger bovid.
"Hey, thanks, short stuff."
"Who you callin' short stuff?!" The springbok playfully jabs at the sheep's sides with his pincer-like horns, quickly stirring up a tussle between the bucks while Hafsa watches on helplessly.
The arrival of the remaining three rams splits up the scuffle, specifically Desmond's harsh rebukes.
"Say, Ms. President," Leslie starts, trying to change the subject. "We're gonna eat some dinner now. You wanna come with?"
"Oh, sure!"
Desmond puts a hand on the serval's shoulder. "You guys go on ahead. I have some... cheerleading pointers I want to give the president before we go. We'll catch up soon."
The herd of bovids all look at each other with highly... suggestive expressions before erupting into bursts of frantic agreement. In a matter of seconds they jog down the hallway and up the metallic stairs leading to the ground floor of the gym, leaving the two student council members all alone.
"So..." Hafsa starts, suddenly feeling awkward. "Have any ideas for the next match?"
"Cut the shit."
Hafsa winces, but expected as much. She's reminded of their first conversation alone together. "You know how to get to the point, don't you?"
"I've been playing nice until now, but enough is enough. What's the real reason you're here?"
Hafsa's brow furrows. The last thing she wants to do is fill Desmond's head with conspiracies and doubts. Considering the rash of sheep predation cases this year, making him even more worried about potential danger in Noah's Arc could be irresponsible, especially since she has no definitive proof. And considering what she's learned today, he could interpret her findings as a straight-up accusation against his friend and teammate. But as she looks into his frustrated eyes, she knows that she owes him her honesty. He can hate her for it afterwards, but he has the right to know. She sighs.
"The real reason is... I came to investigate someone today."
"Yeah, I figured." Desmond grumbles. "Listen, I can put in a good word for you with Pete, but I'm pretty sure he's got a thing for Priya so don't get your hopes up."
Hafsa tilts her head. "Huh? What are you talking about?"
Desmond stiffens up. "What... are... you... talking about?"
"It's kind of a long story."
The sheep brings a hand to his forehead, scratching at his wool nervously.
"Holy shit."
Hafsa's tail swishes. "Listen, Desmond, I'm just as confused as you are, and I really can't conclude anything one way or another, so don't get angry--"
"No, I believe you."
The serval's eyes widen. "Y-you do?"
Desmond sinks to the floor, his legs in a jumbled pseudo-cross propping up his arms. His hands remain on his face, jumping from forehead to cheek to chin to horns while his pupils dart from side to side, as if watching an imaginary game of ping pong.
"Uh-huh..." He breathes. "I mean, why would you lie about this?" His face still locked in a strange expression, he looks up at her. "And you're sure it was his smell?"
Hafsa crouches down to meet his gaze. "Positive. I spent all of this training session confirming it."
"Holy shit..."
"As his friend, do you have any idea why he would've been awake at that hour?" The serval asks.
"Pete likes to stay up late, but only to mess around on his computer. He'd never leave his dorm."
Hafsa puts a hand under her chin. "Didn't he say he didn't get a lot of sleep last night? Do you think that could mean something?"
"I-I'd have to ask him."
"You think he'd tell the truth?"
"Pete's a good kid..." Desmond sinks further into himself, muddled down by a horribly weary expression. Hafsa fights off an urge to give him a hug. Instead she offers him a hand.
"Listen. There's gotta be an explanation for this. I know there is. So don't freak out." She gives his hand a light squeeze of reassurance.
The sheep's expression hardens into a tired smile. "Right. You're right. I'll ask him about this tomorrow, and I'll tell you what he says."
"Thanks, Des." She smirks. "Let's keep this stuff between us, okay? Not even Solomon knows about this yet. As soon as we crack this case, we can tell the others."
Des...
He chuckles back. "'Crack this case'... what a knockoff detective you are."
"What knockoff detectives we are, my dear Watson!" The serval declares in a horrible accent. "You are now my partner in solving crime!"
"Somehow, I feel like I'm gonna be more of a sidekick than a partner..."
"How very astute of you. You're a natural at this!"
They both laugh, their voices reverberating throughout the narrow, grimy hallway.
"Hey, I have a question," Hafsa manages to say in between laughs. "Why did you think I visited the ram fighting club today?"
Desmond's laugh get caught in his throat. "Oh. Uh. I thought you'd only ever wanna watch this kind of stuff if you were into one of the guys. And you kept looking at Pete the whole time, so..."
"This is why I'm Sherlock and you're Watson."