Magnus should have known better than to think he'd get a quiet morning.
No classes. No immediate System deadlines breathing down his neck. Just breakfast — something quick to keep his body from staging a rebellion after training, then a few hours of actually catching up on assignments like a normal, functioning human being. And maybe — maybe! — a few hours where nothing actively tried to kill him.
It was a good plan. A responsible plan.
It was also a fragile plan. A hopeful plan. So, of course, the universe had to throw a wrench in it!
He'd just stepped out of the dining hall, a banana in hand and mentally organizing his to-do list: group essay first, then psych homework, then maybe—
A gray blur dropped from above and landed squarely on his shoulder. Magnus flinched so hard he nearly launched his food into orbit.
"Ah, there you are, young wanderer!" Tony declared, clinging to him like a very opinionated scarf. "The sun is high, the world is loud, and your incompetence remains consistent. Excellent conditions for growth!"
Magnus closed his eyes. Of course!
"…Tony," Magnus said slowly, not moving his head, "why are you on me?"
"Proximity," Tony said. "Also, you were walking away."
"I was going to study."
Tony made a dismissive sound. "Books will not save you when danger approaches from the left," he said sagely. "Or the right. Or above. Especially above. Birds are treacherous. Pigeons most of all — pretending to be harmless, then poop on your head when you least expected, very nasty creatures!"
Magnus slipped the banana into his pocket.
"…You dropped on me from above."
"Exactly," Tony said, pleased. "A demonstration."
"That was not—"
"Training," Tony repeated firmly, hopping down to the ground. "We begin!"
"…How long have you been waiting here to ambush me?" Magnus asked.
Tony sniffed. "Time is an illusion. Hunger is not." He paused, sniffed again, then added with visible restraint, "…Also, someone dropped half a sandwich three minutes ago, but I resisted. For you. You should be honored!"
Magnus stared at him. "I didn't ask you to resist."
Tony nodded sagely. "Sacrifices are rarely appreciated in their time."
Then his eyes sharpened — well, briefly sharpened.
"Anyway," he declared, "we shall train now under the honest light of day."
Magnus blinked. "…Now? Really?"
"You have informed me that humans do not possess night vision," Tony said, as if explaining something painfully obvious. "A grievous design flaw and tragic limitation. Like a bird that cannot fly. Or a raccoon allergic to garbage."
"That's not—"
"So," Tony continued, pacing in a small, purposeful circle, "we adapt. Daylight. Crowds. Movement. Chaos. A feast of information!"
He gestured — broadly, dramatically — at the campus around them, where students were walking, talking, existing.
"…You want me to people-watch," Magnus said flatly.
Tony froze. Slowly turned. Eyes narrowing.
"…People-watch?" he repeated.
"Yeah, like, observe people, figure things out about them—"
Tony gasped. Actually gasped. "You reduce sacred observational discipline to… watching people?"
"I mean—"
"Blasphemy," Tony muttered, pacing. "Utter blasphemy! Next you will say breathing is 'just air.'"
Magnus rubbed his face. "That's not what I—"
"We observe," Tony corrected, jabbing a paw at him. "We read. We interpret. We see beyond seeing." He paused, then added, with reluctant concession, "…Also sometimes we watch, yes. But with intent."
"Right." Magnus sighed. "Sure. Intent."
Tony nodded, satisfied. "Good. You are learning."
"I didn't agree to this," Magnus muttered as he started walking anyway.
Tony fell into step beside him — well, scuttled, but with purpose. "First lesson," he said. "Look, but do not stare. See, but do not fixate. The world reveals itself to those who—oh!"
He darted two steps to the side and poked at something shiny in the grass.
"…Bottle cap," he muttered. "False alarm."
Then immediately snapped back into place like nothing had happened.
"—who are worthy of its truths," he finished smoothly.
Magnus stared at him. "…You lost your train of thought."
"I took a detour. A crucial one," Tony corrected. "Important distinction!"
They kept walking. Magnus shoved his hands into his pockets, already feeling the awkwardness creeping in.
"People are going to see me," he said. "You know that, right?"
"Mhm."
"And they're going to hear me."
"Mhm."
"And from their perspective, I'm just, well, walking around and making noises at a raccoon."
Tony didn't even look at him. "If they do not know who you are, why do you care what they think?"
Magnus blinked. "…Because that's how human society works?"
Tony waved a dismissive paw. "Flawed system."
"And if they do know me?" Magnus pressed.
"If they do know who you are," Tony replied, "then their opinions are already formed. Why would this change anything?"
Magnus hesitated. "…Because it's weird?"
Tony stopped walking and turned to him. The raccoon's eyes were suddenly, briefly, annoyingly clear.
"You are already weird," he said.
Magnus blinked.
Tony nodded once, firm. "This changes nothing."
Magnus opened his mouth. Paused. "…That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
Magnus hesitated. "…I don't know. I just want to be… you know, normal."
Tony considered that. Then nodded slowly. "Normal is often inefficient," he said. "Also boring."
"That's not—"
Tony's head snapped to the side. "Oh!"
He lunged at a passing leaf. And missed.
"…Wind is a trickster," he muttered, before resuming like nothing had happened.
Magnus exhaled slowly. "…I hate that you make sense sometimes."
"I always make sense," Tony said. "You simply lack the wisdom to recognize it consistently."
"Right."
A beat.
"…This is just Sherlock Holmes training," Magnus muttered. "Why do I need Sherlock Holmes training?"
Tony froze again. Turned.
"…Sherlock… Homes?" Tony asked. "Is that a place? A territory? A rival pack?"
"…What? No. He's—he's a guy."
"A guy," Tony echoed.
"A really smart guy. A detective," Magnus clarified. "He looks at people and just—figures stuff out. Like, instantly. Deductions. Clues. Small details. All that."
Tony's expression didn't change.
"…He exists?" he asked.
Magnus hesitated. "…Not… exactly. He's a fictional character—made up, I mean. But he's really famous, and people try to mimic him, be like him. Like all the time."
Tony blinked.
"You humans try," the raccoon said slowly, "to become like a different human… who does not exist?"
"Well, when you say it like that—"
"Why would your kind invent a fake human," Tony continued, genuinely baffled, "and then decide he is the standard to live up to?"
Magnus opened his mouth. Closed it. "…Because it's cool?"
Tony stared at him.
"You humans are deeply confusing. Why not simply become better humans?" he demanded. "Why create fake ones?"
Magnus opened his mouth. Closed it again. "…You know what, that's actually a fair question, I don't—"
"Your kind are strange," Tony concluded, shaking his head. "You chase illusions instead of leftovers."
"…Those are not equivalent… or even in the same category."
"They are if you are hungry enough."
Magnus dragged a hand down his face. "I'm trying to explain pop culture to a raccoon. This is my life!"
Tony perked up. "Does this pop culture you speak of involve food?"
"No."
"Then I am not interested!"
Tony sniffed, then resumed walking. "Anyway," he said firmly, "we are not becoming this 'Sherlock Homes.'"
"Holmes."
"Holmes," Tony repeated. "We are becoming something better."
Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Like what?"
Tony nodded sagely. "A raccoon who pays attention."
"…That's not better."
Tony glanced at him. "It is if you wish to survive."
Magnus exhaled through his nose. "…I don't see the relevance."
"You lack wisdom to appreciate me," Tony huffed, offended. Then froze mid-step. "…Is that a chip bag?"
And just like that, the philosophy died as he bolted two steps sideways to investigate.
Magnus huffed a weak laugh despite himself. "Okay, fine. What exactly am I supposed to do, then?"
Tony's eyes gleamed. "Observe."
Magnus gestured vaguely at the crowd. "That's not helpful."
Tony sighed, like a disappointed mentor. "You look," he said. "But you do not see. You hear, but do not listen. You exist, but do not notice."
He pointed — very deliberately — toward a cluster of students across the quad.
"What do you see?"
"Uh…" Magnus squinted. "Students? Walking? Existing?"
Tony slowly dragged a paw down his face. "A tragedy," he murmured. "A true tragedy."
Magnus bristled. "Hey, I'm trying—"
"No, you are looking," Tony said. "Not observing."
He gestured vaguely with his whole body toward the passing crowd. "That one."
Magnus followed his gaze. A guy with a backpack, walking briskly, earbuds in.
"What about him?"
Tony sniffed. "Late," he said.
Magnus blinked. "What?"
"Late," Tony repeated. "Steps too fast. Shoulders tight. Breathing shallow. He checks time every few moments."
Magnus looked again.
The guy glanced at his phone.
"…Okay, that could be coincidence."
Tony flicked his tail, unimpressed. "That one," he continued, shifting his focus.
A girl sitting on a bench, scrolling on her phone.
"Relaxed," Tony said. "No urgency. Posture open. Likely no immediate obligations. Or she is ignoring them. Both valid strategies."
"…That's just guessing."
Tony gasped. Actually gasped. "Guessing?" he repeated, scandalized. "You wound me, kid. This is not guessing. This is seeing."
Magnus crossed his arms. "This is you making stuff up with confidence."
Tony puffed up. "Confidence is half of wisdom."
"That explains a lot."
Tony ignored that. "…We will need more training than I thought. Let us go! We require a better vantage point. Somewhere you can sit. Observe. Absorb."
Magnus rubbed his face. "No, really. I have assignments—"
"Wow," a voice cut in from nearby, bright with amusement, "so he really does talk to raccoons."
Magnus froze mid-sentence. Every muscle locked. Slowly — very slowly — he turned.
Under a nearby tree, two girls sat on the grass, casually watching the flow of people across the quad. One of them was none other than Brooke Harlan. The other — someone he didn't know — was the one who spoke.
Magnus's brain short-circuited.
"Hiiiii Brooke!" he said, voice shooting up at least three octaves.
Smooth. Very smooth.
Beside him, Tony clicked his tongue. "Judging by your reaction," the raccoon said, "you failed to detect them entirely. Zero awareness. Tragic!"
Magnus turned on him, scandalized. "And you didn't think to warn me?!"
Tony blinked. "Why would I?"
"…Because that's what warnings are for?!"
"You must fail to learn," Tony said sagely. "Also, they spotted us the moment I spotted them. They are better at this than you."
Magnus whipped back around.
Oh, great. Fantastic!
"What's wrong?" Tony tilted his head, studying Brooke. "Isn't she one of the females you mated with?"
Magnus choked. "What—no—that's not—"
Tony pointed directly at Brooke. "She has your scent."
Magnus nearly died on the spot. "It's not like that! It's complicated!"
"You humans and your complicated relationships," Tony frowned. "Why would you mate with someone you cannot trust? In raccoon society, you mate, you are pack. No confusion."
"I trust her to a certain extent," Magnus shot back, flustered, "like—not to kill me or make things weird—but not with everything! And can you please stop saying 'mate' like that?!"
"Fascinating," the other girl said, leaning forward slightly, clearly delighted. Both girls were already on their feet and walking towards them now.
Magnus jerked toward her like he'd been electrocuted.
Right. Audience!
"…Hi," he said, trying — and failing — to recover. "I don't think we've met?"
She giggled. "I'm surprised you don't know me," she said. "I've heard a lot about you already."
That was… not reassuring.
"Emily Carter," she added, offering a hand.
Magnus shook it automatically. "Magnus—"
"Oh, I know who you are, Magnus Chane. In fact, you probably know my cousin," she went on casually. "Lila Voss."
Magnus coughed.
But she didn't stop there. With a knowing, teasing smile, she added, "And I know you've gotten to know Brooke pretty well recently, too."
Magnus choked. Full-on, lungs-forgetting-how-to-function choking.
Why?
Why did this keep happening?!
Why had every girl he'd met recently decided to make it their mission to make him choke on his own spit?!
He managed to wheeze out, "Nice to meet you," somewhere between coughing fits and existential collapse.
Emily smiled. Brooke was watching him like this was the most entertaining thing she'd seen all week. Magnus, for one long, horrifying moment, questioned every life decision that had led him here.
Then decided—
Nope! Abort mission!
"Anyway!" he blurted. "I—uh—have to—thing—assignment—very important—bye!"
And then he turned and walked away. Fast. Not running—that would be suspicious. Just… very fast walking.
Tony scrambled after him.
"Wait," the raccoon called, "perhaps you should enlist these two — excellent candidates for observational apprenticeship! Not as refined as I am, of course, but serviceable proxies while I sleep. Or hunt. Or meditate. Or—"
"No," Magnus hissed under his breath. "Absolutely not."
"You could learn much from them," Tony insisted. "They observe. They notice. They—oh!"
He darted sideways mid-sentence.
"…chip crumb," he muttered, investigating with scholarly intensity.
Magnus didn't even slow down. "Tony."
"Yes?"
"Please stop helping."
Tony trotted back up beside him, entirely unbothered. "I cannot," he said. "It is my nature. You are cub I've taken under my paws."
A beat. "…Also, you fled too early. Valuable learning opportunity lost."
"I wasn't fleeing!" Magnus protested.
"You were absolutely fleeing."
"I was strategically repositioning!"
"Into panic!"
"Into survival!"
Tony considered that. Then nodded. "…Fair," he admitted. "Survival is important."
A beat. "Still counts as failure, though."
Magnus groaned and picked up speed. Behind him, Tony's voice carried, equal parts wisdom and chaos:
"Next lesson!" the raccoon called. "Observe before you are observed! Also, beware of birds. Especially owls and pigeons!"
Magnus didn't even question that one.
He just kept moving.