Title: Trivia Night
Fandom: The Listener
Content Notes: No warnings. Written on my iPhone with autocorrect's help.
Characters: Toby and Oz
Summary: Suspecting that one of the regulars is cheating at trivia night, Oz asks Toby to find out how.


"Toby, man, you gotta help me out here." Oz slapped his hands down and leaned across the bar into his friend's face, imploring him to read his desperation and take it seriously. The growing crowd, the promise of all the alcohol and nacho sales to bolster the restaurant's coffers, would normally be reason to celebrate. One look at who had shown up, though, threw a massive splash of cold water on Oz's mood.

Toby sighed and took a swig of his beer. His plan to relax and unwind from a long day at the IIB had been in effect just long enough for him to feel the loss as it was yanked away. "What can I do?"

"Trivia," Oz shouted over the din.

"Trivia?" Toby peered around the bar, taking in the clusters of people gathering at the few tables, the microphone set up on the small stage, and finally the vinyl banner advertising the weekly trivia contest. That was today? He'd completely lost track. "I think I'm going to sit this one out. You'll have to find someone else for your team." He couldn't quite muster the apology he wanted to project.

Oz waved him off. "Team? I don't have a team. I'm the MC." He let that settle in, then continued, "No, I need someone to keep an eye on him." He ticked his chin toward a guy seated at the far end of the bar, a cluster of people gathered around him like worshippers around a guru.

He didn't look like the type to attract such fascination. White, probably late-20s, medium build, with thick brown hair that fell across his face and sunglasses shading his eyes. His smile along gave away how much he thrived on the attention being dished at him.

"What about him?"

"He's killing me," Oz proclaimed. He shot a look at his target as if suspecting that his voice had carried too well over the increasing din in the bar. The guy kept right on chatting with one of his hangers-on. Toby caught a flash of pink as money changed hands. "He hasn't lost a trivia night for two months."

Toby looked askance at his friend. "You're mad because he answers questions correctly? That's hardly criminal."

"He hasn't missed a question yet. Not in two months. He has to be cheating; I just can't figure out how." Oz narrowed his eyes like he had his suspicions, but not yet enough proof.

"So?"

"So?!" Oz echoed, affronted. "Every time he gets a perfect score, the bar gets a free round of drinks."

Toby did a quick estimate of the number of patrons crowded into the place. Oz's predicament became clear. "Alright, OK. You want me to figure out how he's doing it so you don't have to keep giving away free beer." He nodded slowly to himself before advancing the most obvious conclusion. "What if he's just good at trivia?"

"No way is it that simple," Oz answered, puffing up his chest confidently. "I know it."

Another flash of money disappearing into the guy's pocket erased any concern Toby had about invading his privacy. Winning a bar trivia contest or ten was one thing; taking side-bets was another thing entirely. At the very least, it made Toby wonder if Oz was right about the guy cheating; risking money like that was only worthwhile if he knew he was going to win.

"Ok," Toby agreed at last. "Get the event started and I'll see if I can figure out what this guy is hiding."

Oz slapped the bar in acceptance of the deal. "Whatever you find out, buddy, your drink is on the house."

Absorbing one free drink made more sense than absorbing a hundred, but Toby still made a mental note to talk to Oz later about his ease of comping. For now, he settled back with his free beer to wait for the trivia to begin. Reading one person's mind in a crowd this size was going to take concentration, and he still might not get the answer he sought.

***

Oz sidled up to Toby after the first round while the judges scored the cards and the patrons refreshed their drinks. "Well? What's he doing? Bribing the waitresses for answers? Sneaking the answer sheets?"

Toby shook his head, his expression shell-shocked. "Not...quite," he managed. Only then did Oz notice that Toby's beer was still half-full, the bottle warm; he hadn't touched it in some time.

"Then how?"

Toby shook his head again. He glanced around the bar quickly to check for obvious eavesdroppers, then leaned close to Oz, needing to put his discovery into words, but not sure if he was ready to commit to their permanence. "I think he's reading your mind."

For a long moment, Oz could only stare at him. "Like you do?"

Toby let his silence serve as the affirmative. They both knew that he wouldn't suggest telepathy if he didn't have overwhelming evidence. The number of other mind-readers Toby had encountered in his life was so minuscule as to make any new one noteworthy.

As subtly as he could, Oz studied the champion. He still didn't look special. In fact, Oz was certain that if it weren't for his trivia prowess, Oz never would have noticed his patronage at all.

One of the guy's current teammates said something to him. The guy removed his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes like he was getting a headache. In the second before he replaced the shades, Oz caught a glimpse of brilliant blue like he'd only seen on one other person--a person who happened to be sitting only inches away.

"Toby?" he asked. "Do you think he's your brother?" Toby hadn't seen his brother since he was born, hadn't even recalled his existence until a few years ago. Without a name or personal info, searching for him had been futile. Yet now it looked like he'd found his own way back to his family.

Toby glanced at Trivia Night banner, then drew a deep breath. "That is the question, isn't it?"