If he were being honest, Noel would have to admit that he hadn’t expected Agent Hogue to actually AGREE to his mad idea of a stakeout, and even if she did, he would never have dreamed in a million years that she would allow HIM to accompany her. Surely she would find another agent to join her, and send Noel himself back to the lab, where he belonged. So imagine his surprise when she began talking as though it were a done deal ( without him even needing to pull out his secret weapon, which was that if the supplier did turn up, he’d be able to identify the… product … and tell the FBI the best way to handle the smuggled insects ), Isabelle already considering which day their target was most likely to stop in at the bar, and trying to manage Noel’s expectations.
Okay, so not ALL stakeouts were like the movies, he grudgingly admitted to himself, but still some of them must involve intrigue and high speed cars chases and all those other brilliant things that got Noel’s adrenaline pumping when he watched them on the big screen! And if films had that effect on him, how much more exciting would it be for the entomologist to experience the real thing?
And so he nodded along with everything the agent said, too afraid of ruining his good luck by saying anything that might make Isabelle change her mind. He bit back the urge to protest when she insisted on providing lunch and dinner for the day of the stakeout ( her tone made it very clear THAT bit was non-negotiable ), and when Thursday afternoon came along, he was as ready as he could be, and chomping at the bit to get their adventure started. The entomologist was delighted when Agent Hogue turned up with food that ( he had to admit ) smelled incredible, and in return very proudly showed her all the supplies he’d packed: extra blankets for if the car got cold in the night, several bottles of water, and – this one he slipped in as casually as possible, in case Isabelle didn’t approve – a mixed CD he’d burned just for the occasion.
His heart began to race as they pulled in across the street from the bar, their stakeout beginning in earnest, but his excitement was quickly tempered by Isabelle’s question. No need to ask how Isabelle planned to pass the time, then. Not that he was complaining. He was THRILLED for the chance to get to know the agent better. If he won her over, maybe she’d actually take him out of the lab and into the field with her more often!
❝ Because I need it to mean something … ❞ he managed, suddenly unable to meet her eyes, instead playing with a loose thread on the edge of his seat. ❝ I don’t know if anyone told you, or if you read it in my file, but I was all ready to go into the seminary. Dad was a minister, and I was sure I was going to follow in his footsteps. But I realized one day, while sitting in my secondary school biology class, what it would really mean. I couldn’t give up science. I couldn’t give up learning. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, and to this day, I have nights where I lay awake, disappointed in myself because I didn’t have the stomach for that life. I think of all the good I could have done, as a minister, and all the people who I failed to help by turning my back on the church. So … I guess I’m sort of paying my dues here at the FBI, trying to prove to myself that what I do is worthwhile, that I can still help people, just in a different way. ❞
A long silence followed this, before he turned to Isabelle with a question of his own. She was probably expecting the usual line of questioning – Is it true your father got you this job? Why bother working, when you’re so rich? and the like – but that wasn’t the question Noel had been dying to ask her. ❝ I heard you’re a graduate student, when you’re not staked out in front of shady bars. What are you studying? ❞
to say she was surprised by the entomologist’s reply to her question, would have been a gross understatement of what the agent felt in that very moment. in truth, she’d expected him to say something along the lines of… the FBI pays better, they agreed to fund his research if he worked for them, they offered him his own private lab —something along those lines. but for the doctor to delve into his own personal reasoning for taking this job ; for him to tell her about his childhood ( no, she hadn’t gone in to read his file. didn’t believe in reading another colleague’s file, Isabelle. thought it would skew her opinion on someone before even getting the chance to meet them… like it’d done with her ) and the struggles that came along with choosing a life like that… the blonde wouldn’t have admitted it, not then at least, but it sort of… softened her, in favour of the man who sat playing with a piece of thread on the car seat. she could feel her gaze becoming more gentle, as he went on with his story, though damned if Isabelle knew what to say to him, in the end…
but thankfully Dr. Midgley soon came up with his own question — && she was eternally thankful he didn’t ask about how she’d gotten the job, like so many others would have. in fact, his question had caught her so off guard ( no one else had yet bothered to ask her! ), that she couldn’t help a bright smile from spreading across her face right then and there.
❝ oh, anthropology! ❞ she exclaimed proudly, and if one looked closely enough ( or perhaps simply looked at all ), one could see how Isabelle’s gaze lit up at the very mention of her discipline. ❝ did my undergraduate with a major in social anthropology and a minor in biological! then a master’s with une concentration in forensics — et finally I’m working towards my doctoral! I couldn’t imagine doing anything else, vraiment. I ‘ad considered psychology, briefly, but I kept coming back to this! it’s hard work, mais… well… I guess you know what when you love it, it doesn’t really feel like work, yes? ❞
there was a moment, as their gazes met, where Isabelle smiled sheepishly. where she knew how silly she must have looked, going on about her various degrees to someone who already held the title of doctor ( and at such a young age, too! ) but, couldn’t help it, could she? ❝ anyway… ❞ the blonde mumbled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ❝ I think it’s tellement brave of you, to pursue the sciences when your father was a minister. you shouldn’t feel disappointed with yourself, you do so much good now! — don’t you remember, you SAVED ME from the shed of insects earlier this week! if that isn’t good, I don’t know what is. ❞
another pause, before a frown crossed the agent’s features, and she struggled to reach over for one of the bottled waters Noel had brought for them, in an attempt to cover up the sudden bout of worry from her face. ❝ you know ... ❞ she began, and it was Isabelle’s turn to look away, now. ❝ sure, my père ‘ad put in a recommendation for this job … et he is a higher up… but I still ‘ad to go through the same tests as everyone else… I still ‘ad to be equally... if not more qualified, mentally and physically, to work for the FBI. I just ... wanted you to know that, Dr. Midgley ——— um, anyway ‘ow about that mixed CD and some soup, while we continue waiting? ❞
