POKE, STROKE, YANK. POKE, STROKE, YANK. POKE, STRO…

  “Enough of that!” I snap, causing Argyle to scurry back, stopping his clumsy ministering to my hair. His upside-down face whimpers silently as his spindly legs gesture vaguely at the self-adjusting sundial in the corner, the glowing line indicating a little past noon. “Sigh. It’s fine. It’s only Tybalt coming, it’s not like he’ll care that my hair’s a mess or that I’m coming out of a hard absolution. It’s not like any of you actually care about anything.”

  Argyle whines at this, causing me to snap at the obnoxious noise. “Oh, stop pretending. My hair’s fine, so if you’re done cleaning get back in your place.”

  He cuts off his whining, though makes a point of drooping his pathetic head as his stick-like legs clatter across the floor and carry him up to his darkened corner on the ceiling.

  I examine the room for the efficacy of Argyle’s work. It’s free of dust, which is mostly all I ask. The wooden floor are mopped and free of trash, the tools I left cluttered on the desk have been organized in their proper spot, clothes placed in bins or folded in their proper drawers depending on cleanliness. If it weren’t for how gloomy and cramp it is, it would almost be presentable.

  My hair is a little frazzled, so I manually brush it a little, trying more to massage the last traces of last nights headache out with the soft hair-hairbrush than actually caring about presentability.

  A few minutes into this I hear the doorbell, followed by the bat’s and Tybalt’s voice as they exchange annoying pleasantries. I count his footsteps coming up the stairs, then open the door, still sitting on the bed, right before he reaches it.

  “Hey, good morning!” his dopy face says as it peeks past the threshold, his body quickly following carrying a pair of large paper bags. Short, spikey yellow hair that he thinks is stylish, a hooded jacket over tshirt, shorts and sandals, all of the latest fashion… a years ago. He gained weight since …. then. Chubby, but not so much that he can’t hide it with his unseemly baggy attire.

  “It is neither good nor morning,” I reply icily.

  “It is for you I think,” he glances at the pile of uneaten food and partially eaten raw onion on my nightstand, “at least the latter.”

  “Don’t try to be clever. Did you get everything, or was that too hard for you again?”

  “Yeah yeah, of course. Don’t worry, I won’t let you starve. After all, we’re all depending on you.” He beams pridefully as he sets the groceries down.

  I glare at him as I slam the door shut and the silencer array next to it on at the exorbitant price of .2 absols a minute. No profit housing students my arse. “Don’t give them clues, you idiot,” I say after the enchantment has cut off the sound from the outside of the room, gesturing towards the wall where beyond which is another lodger’s room.

  He bashfully scratches his heady. “Ah, sorry, wasn’t thinking.”

  I mutter the obvious under my breath.

  “Aw, well,” he moves things along. “So, how things been? You’ve been holding up? You didn’t have any close calls yesterday, did you? I mean…” He glances meaningfully at the onion.

  I scoff at his attempt at displaying concern. “Nah, the fighting didn’t even come close to here. I’m fine. Well, same as usual. You?” I mirror his attempt with about the same effort, but his face brightens anyways.

  “Oh, great! The boss said the station I want might open up soon. I’ve been practicing all the dishes, so I’m sure I’ll make it this time. You haven’t been checking?”

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  “Pfft. Why would I? It’s not like anything’s really going to change, is it?”

  He droops slightly, but forces himself to puff back up a moment later. “It’s okay, you can’t get me down. I know you care.”

  Teh, how many delusions of his do I have to deal with? I make a sour face to which he laughs. “…Sigh… actually now that you mention it, your job does catering sometimes, right? For restricted events? Did they get contacted to feed the cleanup crews at the school?”

  “Um… yeah. But, I wasn’t assigned to that team.”

  “Get assigned.” I order.

  “…Okay? Any particular reason?”

  “Yeah, there’s probably a lot of interesting wands laying about, you know, casualties from attackers and defenders. See if you can’t sneak me a carbine, will you? Or a shield piercer, but I doubt they’d be left in place.”

  “A…” he starts, but I cut him off with a glare. “…I don’t have a license for that. If I get caught…”

  I interrupt him with a laugh. “And how would you get caught?”

  He stares at me dumbfounded, his face twitching. “…You know I don’t like doing that. I get all… fuzzy. I… I don’t think I’m me when I do it. It scares me.” His voice dies down to whisper the last part.

  “Pffft. Are any of us us? Stop complaining and just do it.”

  His face goes red as he bites his lip, building courage to fight back. “What do you even want a carbine for? It’s not like it’d be much use to you.”

  “I’m curious,” I drawl. “I want to see how it works, and diagrams are just as restricted as the thing itself. So, I’m going to take it apart and see if I can’t replicate it.”

  He stares at me, a shiver going up him. “Can’t you get your other to get one for you?”

  I shake my head. “Best to avoid contact. Keep it clean.”

  “But you don’t mind if I ruin my life?” He pouts, looking not cute while doing so.

  “Hah! What life?!”

  He bites his lip again, face flushed in anger or embarrassment, but turns away to avoid an outburst and looks out the window. “…And if I get caught and decide to tell them about you out of spite?”

  This makes me giggle, kicking my feet back and forth as I lean back still sitting on the bed, propped up by my two arms. “And here I thought you were an optimist. Try it. The worst you’ll get for transporting a carbine without a license is a year, probably just a fine. But if you tell them about me, then they’ll never let you go. Your ‘life’, as you call it, would be completely over.”

  He’s completely still, but I hear his teeth chatter at the thought. “…Fine,” he finally says. “I’ll get your damn carbine, if there’s still one laying around.” With that he turns and makes to leave.

  “Or a demon pistol. Those seem interesting… I guess I’ll settle for one of those concave shield projectors security uses. Really anything, just take a look and see what you can get me.”

  “Whatever,” he says as he opens the door, the act automatically breaking the silencer array and fills the room with the sound of the bustle below. Opening it also reveals the Old Bat pacing pathetically on the other side, holding a trey of warm smelling cookies.

  “Oh, hey Paige!” Tybalt says, hiding his dour expression with a sudden smile at her appearance, but the but the Bat sees, and is forced to hide her reaction with a smile of her own. “Did you make cookies? They smell delicious.”

  “Oh, yes, you know me. I always like baking, and, you know, you’re always so kind… taking care of her, I thought I’d bring you two up some. You aren’t going already, are you?”

  “Ah, yes,” he says, scratching his head. “Our place is catering for the cleanup crew at the school, so everyone’s super busy. I thought it’d be best to get back from break early.”

  Her eyes flicker to me disapprovingly as she sees through the lie. “Oh, that’s too bad, but good of you to show enthusiasm like that. I’m sure your bosses will notice.”

  “Haha, yeah, let’s hope.”

  “Well, do take some cookies for the way back.”

  “Of course, thank you!” he grabs two and rushes down the stairs.

  The Bat goes still as he goes, waiting for the door to close before turning to regard me with as much ice as she can muster. “Tybalt is a nice boy. I don’t know how you convinced him to help you, but you shouldn’t push him away like that.”

  I roll my eyes at her mock concern. “What do you care. It’s not like…Oh!” I scrunch my face up in disgust, as if stepping on something a dog emitted. “You know, it’s unbecoming of the old to imagine the young in the throws such acts.”

  Her face reddens at the suggestion, her back stiffening as she glances away, silently biting her lip for several seconds before finally looking at me with all due venom. “You know, I was going to offer you some cookies, but I think I’m just going to go back downstairs and have yours for myself instead. Though there might be some for you if you come down and apologize in time.”

  She closes the door with a flair and I can’t help but laugh at her feeble attempt at petty retaliation. As if I wanted her stupid cookies anyways.