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</noinclude>

Jimmy drops into the chair across the café table. "Afternoon."

Logan grunts over the lip of his coffee.

"Wanna job?"

Raises an eyebrow. "What does a legitimate businessman like you need /**my** specialized skills for?"

Turns over the spare cup, fills it. "I mostly want your eagle eyes." Sips. "Hopefully, we won't need your ability to end a fight in a hurry."

Snorts.

"You interested?"

"What's the pay like?" Sets his cup aside.

"Generous," smirks Jimmy. "The client's Dame Hackett."

"Ooo. /**Classy.**" Leans back. "You wanna risk your /**classy** reputation with a subcontractor the likes of me?"

Jimmy's smirk widens. "Ah! But you have one attribute this job absolutely /**requires**—"

"I'm not gonna like where this's going."

"—and that's your baby face, kiddo."

Logan scowls. "My /**what**?"

"Ye see, Dame Hackett's the client, but—" Attempts to hide a face-cracking grin behind his mug. "—it's her son who needs coverage." Surrenders to the smile. "Her /**pre-teen** son."

"Oh no! No way!" Logan pushes to his feet. "'m not /**babysitting** some little ... princeling!"

Jimmy keeps grinning. "You do great with Claire."

"But she's— I— You're—" Frustrated noise. Throws himself back into the seat, crosses his arms, pouts, "That's different."

Chuckles. "Of course it is." Studies his coffee. "Logan, the pay for the two days is enough to set you up with a flat of your own—"

"Sick of me vis—"

"—for at /**least** six months and I really, /**really** need a young person I can trust for this."

Logan hangs his head, rubs the back of his neck, mutters, "Fiiiine."

"Cool. Welcome aboard." Grins. "I was starting to think I'd have to ask Claire, since she knows half your tricks."

Logan snorts.

"I'll give you the lowdown back at the office after we finish our coffee."

"Your treat, boss." Logan sips daintily.

Jimmy rolls his eyes.

.

"We're on the job because there's been a credible kidnapping threat against Dame Hackett's son."

"Why aren't her people handling it? She's got 'em, yea?"

"She's had problems with inside jobs, lately," frowns Jimmy.

"So she hired you."

"Yup."

"Pardon my French toast, but why the fuck would she do that?"

"Because, kid, Jimmy of Sydney is the very best—"

Logan scoffs—

"—and has rules."

—crosses his arms. "Rules, ay? That explains /**everything**."

Jimmy plants his elbows on the desk, proclaims, "First, we only protect people obeying the law, preferably those keeping a low profile, too. Second, our job is to end shit, not start it; we're /**guards**, not mercenaries."

Logan mumbles, "'I can only protect you, I cannot fight a war for you.'"

Jimmy blinks.

"What?"

"Was ... was that a /*Star Wars* quote?"

"Nerd brother forced me to watch it a coupla billion times," Logan grouses. "Why do /**you** recognize it?"

Jimmy grins. "/**My** nerd brother forced me to watch it a coupla billion times, and, yea, that's the shape of it. You're following so far?"

Logan rolls his eyes.

"Third, we keep a low profile: end any trouble quickly and quietly."

"/**Finally**, something /**useful**."

"I can ask someone else."

"Please, go on."

Jimmy huffs. "Most importantly for everyone, we do the job, collect our pay, and forget everything we heard, saw, or did." Leans back. "Got it?"

"Yessir."

"Don't make me regret this, Logan."

Logan sighs. "I'll behave. /**And** I've been listening." Cocks his head. "So how are ye gonna make this 'low profile'?"

Jimmy grins. "You're going in as the new au pair—"

"Babysitter," grumps Logan.

"—and that's what you'll be 'til you absolutely have to be something else, ay? Hopefully, you won't need to and this'll be more boring than an evening with Claire."

Logan crosses his arms. "I'm walking off if the princeling tries putting bows in my hair."

Jimmy chin-hands. "But you let Claire—"

"Is that a death wish I hear?"

Chortles. "I'll be following at a discreet distance, watching for troublemakers and running interference."

"What's your excuse?"

"I'm your chauffeur."

"No, I meant 'what's your cover?'"

Exaggerated scowl.

Logan grins. "Couldn't resist."

Jimmy sighs. "We start tomorrow, smarty-pants. Meet me here at oh-six-hundred wearing your Sunday best and shoes you can run in."

Mocking salute. "Yessir!"

Jimmy grins, points to the door. "Get out."

Logan gets.

.

Logan knocks on Jimmy's door the next morning at exactly five-fifty-nine.

""You're early!"" hollers Jimmy, opens the door. "How do you do that without a watch?"

Logan shrugs. "Gift from Nanny's family."

"Useful, that. All I got from my grandparents was socks." Steps out, locks up.

"Got served a protection order by the other side."

Jimmy winces.

"'m kinda proud of that one. Youngest in the county the judge could remember."

Jimmy sends the garage door rolling up the track. "I want to start calling you 'Rainbow'." Glances over his shoulder, grinning.

Logan's brow lowers. "Why's that?"

"Got a lot of colourful stories for someone your age."

Logan scowls.

"Lemme get a look at you before we pile in." Tilts his head.  "You clean up pretty nice." Straightens Logan's collar.

Logan rolls his eyes.

"How'd you get hold of an iron?"

"Iron?" Logan tugs at his neckline, winces. Finagles loose a pin.

Jimmy sighs. "Never mind. I don't wanna know."

"Pretty sure you figured it out," grumbles Logan.

"Get in the car."

Logan gets in the passenger side, belts in.

Jimmy slides behind the wheel, turns over the engine, backs out to the street.

Mrs Jimmy waves from the front door, makes for the garage to close up.

"You ever been to Point Piper?" asks Jimmy.

Logan shrugs. "Two or three times. Didn't see much of it."

"It was dark, ay?"

"'cept for the /**magnificent** garden party when my old man's law partner retired."

In his peripheral, Jimmy blinks.

"I come from a different income bracket than your normal stray, Jimmy," sighs Logan.

"Jesus," breathes Jimmy. "Explains how you picked out trousers and a jacket with the proper fit."

Logan slouches.

"Knock that off. You'll wrinkle it."

"It's gonna get wrinkled anyway if I'm chasing a princeling around all day."

"There's not going to be a lot of actual running about," grins Jimmy, tilting his head. "Your itinerary's in the glove box."

"Itiner—" Logan fishes out touch-screen mobile, holds it between thumb and forefinger. "Aww ... crap."

Jimmy snickers. "Welcome to the modern age, kid."

"You /**totally** suck."

"Consider it part of your costume."

Grumbling.

"You're lucky I didn't insist on a tie."

"No, you are, 'cause I'd be trying to strangle ye with it right now."

"Is that any way to talk to your boss?"

"When my boss is you, yea."

"Kids these days," sighs Jimmy. "No respect." His grin returns. "You'll note I got you the kind with only one button to help you cope. I know new technology can be overwhelming."

Logan huffs.

"The one that looks like a calendar page is—"

"Fuck. You."

"—your schedule and, remember, you poke the numbers 'cause di—"

"/**Fuck.** /**You.**"

Jimmy laughs.

Logan offers an obscene gesture, taps his way through the mobile's menus.

Fifty-seven minutes of Sydney and environs slide past the windows, before they pull up at a pair of elegantly imposing gates.

""Name and business,"" crackles the intercom.

"Jimmy Fitzroy and the new au pair, reporting for work."

""One moment, please.""

Logan stares out across the estate grounds.

"Scoping the layout?"

Grunts.

"Good idea, but don't get any ideas."

Scoffs. "Wouldn't dare." Sighs. "Be nicked instantly."

Jimmy snorts. "You're smarter than you look."

""Please come in.""

The gate beeps, slides open.

Logan grumbles.

Jimmy puts the car back in gear, rolls up the long drive.

.

>meeting Dame Hackett and Junior, Junior's piano lesson, etc. etc.; then Logan and Junior, with Jimmy at a distance adjourn to the park for Junior's soccer practice (or something), when ....<

Someone perches on the far end of Logan's bench.

Maybe his age, dressed feminine, a quarter-meter shorter than him, brunet, white-passing.

Jack would call her 'cute'.

She smiles warmly, says, "Which one's your little brother?"

"Uh," Logan rubs the back of his neck, "none of them? I'm just the help." Glances over, all shy. "Which's yours?"

"The little Asian with the ponytail." Grins. "I'm the same as you: trying to work my way through uni."

"Cool," says Logan, adjusting his sleeves.

"I'm Lamb."

Logan bobs his head. "Patrick."

"Good Irish name."

He laughs.

"What's so funny?"

"That's exactly what my dad says."

Lamb softens. "You're really cute when you laugh."

Logan blushes, ducks his head. "Thanks?"

Lamb shifts to mid-bench. "Do you have a girlfriend, Patrick?" She brushes a hand over his arm, his hip.

His face heats. "I, um, got dumped when I moved to the city. Haven't really had time to date since. So."

"That's too bad. A cutie like you shouldn't be alone."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we should spend a little time together, someplace private, get to know each other ...." Drags a fingertip along the line of his jaw.

"I don't know ... I'm not supposed to let him out of my sight."

"The coach is watching them and we'll be right back."

"R-right. But maybe we could start here? Instead? I'd be more comfortable."

"Mmm. Good idea," she purrs, easing closer.

Logan slides a hand under her jacket, slowly across her back, rests it on her opposite hip.

Lamb makes a small, breathy sound, presses herself tightly to his side.

Logan brushes his lips against her ear, whispers, "I'm bored—"

She tenses.

"—so can ye drop the act?"

Lamb tilts her head back, reads his face. "What act, cutie?"

"The one where you distract me while your clumsy buddy sneaks over and nabs the kid." Smiles sweetly. "It won't work."

"I don't know /**what**—"

"/**My** /**not-clumsy** buddy's already grabbed him and called the cops." Pulls his hand back to his side, puts some distance between them.

She scans the park, frowns. "You're good."

Logan shrugs.

Lamb shifts, blinks, slowly smiles. "And I seem to have lost my handcuffs."

Logan smirks, raises an eyebrow.

"You're actually amazing." Genuine sparkly eyes. "When'd you have 'em off me?"

"'bout a half-second after I knew they were there."

"And when was that?"

"A good thief never tells."

"You got the cuffs, but I still have—"

Logan jingles the keys in front of her eyes.

"You have the keys," she pouts, "but you're not the only one who can pick pockets."

"Yea, yea, you scored an empty wallet and a burner mobile. Congratulations." Retrieves them from her jacket pocket. "Had to keep you on the hook long enough to get you where I wanted you."

"In cuffs? Had I known you were into /**that**—"

Logan wrinkles his nose.

"—I would've flirted for real."

Rolls his eyes, stands.

Lamb pushes— jerks up short. "You. total. /**asshole!**"

"Me?" Blinks innocently. "/**You're** the one trying to kidnap someone. All /**I** did was hitch you to a bench." Grins. "Which you just said you'd consent to."

She fixes him with an incendiary glare.

"None 'a that, now. 'least you have a view of the action."

"You're too kind, sir," she spits.

"Thank you, Miss. I do indeed try my best, but I'm afraid I must take my leave." He bows deeply. "Enjoy the view!" Spins on his heel and strolls toward the pitch.

""I won't forget this!""

Logan waves over his shoulder.

>TBC<