Prior to the advent of thaumic measurement techniques the lamnotta species was thought to be a non sapient vermin class monster like their close relatives the puddings and piles. However, with the benefit of modern science and hindsight, we can see that the similarities between the lamnotta (then called slimes) and their lesser brethren is no different from the distinction between man and their close relatives the apes. Prior to the unfortunately named Edict of Ooz (named as it was for the town at which the first non hostile contact between the settled worlds and the lamnotta), lamnotta were forest dwelling creatures that often took on the appearance of local super predators to help prevent their own predation. This had the unfortunate side effect of making other races attack them on sight.

  -Excerpt from “We Are All One: A History of The Lamnotta”-

  For the first time since Joe found himself in this new world, the indispensable Meadowbrooks failed him. They did not in fact have a bed he could buy for Becky. Not only that, but Joe got a nasty shock when he walked by the small display case of jewelry Mi’Takal kept near the register.

  Minor Ring of Candlelight

  This ring has been enchanted to perform the candlelight spell when rotated clockwise (toward the user when on the right hand). 1mu/minute

  4/10mu

  It was one of his rings. Someone had decided to pawn one of his rings. It shouldn’t have bothered him, gear got sold all the time. He even had the occasional person like Gerald who wanted to pawn magical items at his own shop. But none of that had been his. It stung Joe’s craftsman pride to see his work in a pawn shop instead of on a person's finger.

  He did his best to get over it, but it soured the first day with his new worker and he was grumpier than he should have been. Becky took it in stride, just seeming happy to have a new start. By the end of that first day she had converted the back corner of the basement, the one furthest from the dungeon Joe noticed, into a comfortable looking little room. In lue of actual walls Becky had hung up large tapestries depicting forest scenes hung by long curtain rods pressure fitted between the brick pillars. She’d explained that the loft she’d been sleeping in up until then had been shared by four other people and a similar set up had been used to give them each a bit of privacy.

  The chill from the stone floors was kept at bay by the liberal application of old carpets purchased at a discount from the Meadowbrooks. Cha’Takal had tried to gift them to Becky as an apology for not having a bed, but Joe’d slid the money to Mi’Takal behind her husband's back.

  In the following days Becky proved herself to be an exemplary student and worker. Augmented by her personal notes, she quickly mastered the mundane production work that Joe couldn’t be asked to keep up on himself. As an added bonus, it turned out that Becky had been the handshaker expert that Gretta had mentioned, and she was only too happy to help Joe improve in her preferred weapon once Moira finished with his.

  Unfortunately it didn’t take Higgins long to figure out where Becky had gone. Joe was the only chemist in town, so it wasn’t like Higgins wouldn’t come in at some point anyway, but Joe had the sneaking suspicion that Paule had told the young idiot where Becky had gone.

  It had at least been amusing to watch. Goober had taken an immediate liking to Becky and when Higgins had attempted to take her hand again as he paid for some essentials Gobber had popped up and given Higgins his best bark. The stalker had fallen flat on his ass and fled when he realized that Goober was coming around the counter to press the issue. He’d still come in on occasion but between Goober and Joe, he never got a chance to talk to Becky again.

  When she wasn’t working on mundane production, Joe had her manning his latest scheme. While the full tavern in his basement wasn’t likely to happen, Joe did like the idea of providing more adventurer focused potions to those parties coming in to use his dungeon. Whenever the bell at the entrance to the dungeon rang, Becky would scurry off to the basement and take their order before coming back up, collecting their purchases and taking payment. It quickly became a popular service, especially since Joe didn’t upcharge them for purchases made in the dungeon.

  Becky’s amicable personality had the adventurers open up to her as they made their purchases, providing Joe with a running update on how the dungeon was doing. While the it shifted with each expedition, Joe still liked hearing the second hand accounts relayed to him by his employee, and he would ask her how each group was doing once they’d paid and returned to the depths. It was usually something along the tune of “everything is fucking weird down here”, but every once in awhile a party would report seeing a “ghost girl” either peeking out around a corner or quickly disappearing when they entered a room. Joe wasn’t sure if it was the same one that he’d seen, but he sincerely hoped it was. Either way he asked Becky to keep an ear out for any word of the girl.

  By the time Moira had finished with Joe’s new weapon, he’d settled into a comfortable routine he hoped would continue into the future. Of course it didn’t, but Joe didn’t know until the day he met him.

  It had been a slow day, with few people apparently needing to stock up on shampoo and cleaning products. Days like that made Joe glad for his new side business in the basement. He was standing idly at the counter, wondering about how his new handshaker would look when an absolutely massive C’tahl walked through the door.

  The man stood almost as tall as Merrie, which was more than enough to tower over Joe’s lesser frame. The catfolk was ginger in color, shot through with rusty stripes and luminous green eyes. He was dressed in a similar style to Micah, but augmented by armor on his left leg and right arm. A tower shield sat strapped to his back with a thick bladed sword at his hip.

  “Does old Bi’ll still run this place?” The newcomer asked without preamble. His voice was a deep rumble and when he finally brought his eyes around to look at Joe some long dormant monkey part of his brain woke up and screamed. The man’s eyes were those of a predator, and it was one that hadn’t quite figured out if it was hungry yet.

  For his part Joe steeled his suddenly weak knees and gave the newcomer his best smile. “No sir, old Bi’ll died some time back. I’m Joseph Alderbright, pleased to meet you.” He stuck out his hand to the man who enveloped it with his own. Joe couldn’t help but notice the claws.

  “Minsk Sledpaw” The man purred, not realizing his words had just dumped a bucket of ice water down Joe’s back. “I am sad to hear old Bi’ll has passed on. Whenever I smell sandalwood, I will remember him.”

  “Well, what brings you in today?” Joe did his best to sound casual, but he could tell he’d failed. For just a moment one of Minsk’s ears twitched and he frowned before his expression went back to a neutral smile.

  “I thought I would stop in to see a few old friends and pick up some supplies before heading out again.”

  There’s no fucking way, Joe thought in the privacy of his own head, that this gladiator garfield is just going to breeze into town like nothing’s wrong and then leave again. He doesn’t know me from Adam so he has to be just making something up to satisfy this conversation. Joe didn’t quite know why he was making excuses for the deadbeat. Something in his brain just rebelled against the idea of a person so blithely unaware of the consequences of his actions.

  “Well,” Joe said with forced joviality that got him another flick of the ear from the C’tahl “what can I get for you?” Minsk rattled off a rather standard mix of grade two potions. Joe did his best to be efficient and cordial, getting everything together as he tried to make small talk with them man. He knew he absolutely blew it from the slowly deepening frown on Minsk’s face as their interaction ground on. When Minsk finally left, Joe made a break for the back door. “Becky, you’re in charge until I get back.” Joe didn’t even wait for her reply.

  <><><>

  Somehow, possibly through panic stricken adrenaline, Joe made it to Fairchild Foundries before Minsk. Moira was with a customer when he showed up so he loitered around one of the other tables waiting for them to leave. This was a private conversation and he wasn’t about to blurt anything out in front of an unrelated third party. Moira still noticed him and raised an eyebrow in his general direction.

  “I need to talk to you now” Joe mouthed soundlessly, pointing at the customer in front of her. She gave him a nod and turned to them.

  “I’m sorry Mrs.Parker, but I have another customer I need to help. Do you mind if I step away for a moment?” The little old woman didn’t even look up from the glass she was inspecting, but waved a hand in a vaguely affirmative gesture so Moira stepped away. It was only as she approached that Joe realized he’d not put any thought on how to break the news to Moira. For that matter, he didn’t have any proof that the C’tahl that had visited his shop actually was the Minsk. Suddenly plagued by a million doubts, Joe had nothing ready when Moira made it to his side of the shop and crossed her arms over her chest. She waited a full minute before finally saying something herself.

  “Not that I don’t mind staring at your wonderful face Joe, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”

  “Ah, uh.” Joe’s brain refused to participate in this discussion. “Ah, wh. Well, Sarah’s dad was a C’tahl right?”

  “Yes,” suspicion laid thickly on Moira’s one word response. Her eyes narrowed and Joe could see a redness creeping up her neck.

  “W-what color was he?” Joe tried again to sound casual and again failed.

  Something behind Joe’s back caught Moira’s attention, and he was treated to a front row seat to the end of the world staged deep within her eyes. “Ginger” she growled out.

  “Moira! My love, I have returned at last!” The voice was unmistakably Minsk, though coated in honey and dipped in sugar. Without taking her eyes off of the approaching dead man, Moira gripped the edge of the table in front of her and pushed it out of her way. The jostling sent glassware tumbling onto the ground, causing some to smash and others to chip, but Moira managed to make a big enough gap to get through and around Joe.

  When he turned Joe could see Minsk still approaching, arms held wide as if he expected Moira to run into them. It wasn’t until Minsk noticed him over Moiras rapidly approaching head that a frown once again landed on his face. With his eyes on Joe, Minsk entirely missed Moira’s fist. The size difference between the two made it impossible for Moira to slap the man in the face. A punch below the belt fixed that, but Moira had no intentions of slapping. She grabbed him by both fuzzy ears and brought her forehead down hard across the bridge of the C’tahl’s nose.

  Joe could hear the crunch from where he stood, but just couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for the man. He did move forward to back Moira up on the off chance Minsk became hostile. Although from the look of it, Moira was being hostile enough for the both of them.

  “Six years” she hissed into the reeling man’s face. “You disappeared for six years! I thought you were dead, I hoped you were dead. Do you know what I’ve had to go through raising our daughter alone? Do you have any,” she gave Minsk a hard shake just as he was starting to recover, “idea of what it was like to tell a three year old, a three year old for gods sakes, that daddy’s dead and not coming back? A daddy she’d been waiting years to meet?”

  “Moira please” wheezed Minsk, trying to get a grip on her wrist to prevent her from shaking him again. “I wanted to provide for you two, I had to-”

  “Had to!” Moira was being loud enough to draw looks from nearby pedestrians. Some became spectators, wanting to watch their local blacksmith pound a man into the ground like a nail. “You could have just as easily provided for us by being here you mange ridden, glory chasing, poor excuse for a father!” Moira must have been spent by this point, as she finally released Minsk’s ears and let the C’tahl scramble to his feet. She was glaring up at him and missed the moment his hand twitched towards his sword, but Joe didn’t.

  The C’tahl was breathing hard, blood flowing down an obviously broken nose. He glared down at Moira, who returned it with an intensity he just couldn’t match. “Leave Minsk, you’ve been dead to us for years. Stay dead this time” she growled up at him.

  “She’s my daughter.” He started and got no further before Moira cut him off.

  “She stopped being your daughter the day you chose adventuring over your family. Do you know who held my hand the night Sarah was born? Merrie. Do you know who helped me wash diapers and read stories? Merrie. She’s more Merrie’s daughter than she is yours.”

  The crowd was getting pretty thick now, and Joe didn’t want so many witnesses to a murder. Stepping up to the irate blacksmith, Joe put a steadying hand on her lower back. “Moira,” she whirled around to glare at Joe who tipped his head towards the crowd. “This isn’t the place to have this conversation. I don’t think all these people deserve to know your business.”

  “Speaking of which,” Minsk cut in with a growl. “What business is this of yours?”

  Before Joe could answer Moira flipped back around to face her former lover. “This is Joe my, “ there was a very slight pause before she said the next word “boyfriend”.

  “Boyfriend” Minsk echoed, switching his gaze to look at Joe. This time the big C’tahl didn’t stop himself from resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. It was an obvious intimidation tactic, and because it was so obvious it Joe was not intimidated in the slightest. “So you replaced me.”

  “Did you really think I’d sit here pining away for years like some damsel in an iron for two novel?” Moira crossed her arms over her chest, possibly to prevent herself from throttling Minsk. “It’s been six years Minsk, people move on.”

  “I thought you loved me.”

  Moira had to close her eyes, and Joe could tell she was counting in her head to try and keep herself under control. Joe stepped in to give her a moment to collect herself.

  “Minsk, please. The street isn’t the place to have this sort of a talk. Why not go find yourself a room for the night. It’ll give everyone a chance to calm down and we can meet somewhere tomorrow to sort this out in private.” The look the C’tahl shot Joe could have punched a hole in lead, but Joe wasn’t budging. You may be able to wipe the floor with me if this comes to blows, but I’ll make damn sure you regret winning if it comes to that. Come on, do the smart thing and leave. Joe forced himself to not even blink as he stared down the larger man. Eventually Minsk broke and looked away.

  “Fine, I will be at the Hitching Post. We will meet there for lunch tomorrow, but you will bring my daughter with you.” He turned on his heels and walked away, shortly followed by the crowd that had gathered. Within moments the only ones near Fairchild Foundry was Joe, Mrs.Parker, and a silently shaking Moira. He put an arm around her waist, which she immediately turned into and buried her head in his shoulder. He held her as her shoulders shook and a patch of his shirt slowly got soaked.

  “I need to close down for the day.” she muttered into his chest. “I just, I just can’t think straight right now.”

  “Would talking to Merrie help?” Joe asked. He’d have offered his services, but Merrie’d been there since the beginning and something told him she’d be the one to really help right now. Moira nodded without moving from where she was. The action really being little more than pressing her face into his shoulder repeatedly. “How about this then. I’ve got Becky back at the shop. Why don’t I man the counter here until Gretta gets back from wherever she is.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “She took Sarah shopping for me. Gods I’d almost told her no. What if Sarah had been here?” Joe gave Moira a squeeze and released her. Moira’s eyes were red and her cheeks were flushed. Strands of her fiery red hair had come loose from her headscarf to trail in the slight breeze. Gods she’s pretty Joe thought unbidden. Something must have shown through on his face, as Moira scrubbed at her eye and gave him a weak smile. “What’s that look supposed to be? You’ve never seen a woman upset before?”

  “I’m just looking at the most beautiful woman in the world.” Joe said, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I can’t believe you broke his nose with your face.”

  Moira chuckled before pushing him gently away. “He’s lucky I only did it once. Are you sure you don’t mind watching the store?”

  Joe shook his head. “It’ll take too long to pack up and you need Merrie now. My shop will be fine, go.” With a glass of water and a few minutes to compose herself, Moira headed off to talk to her best friend while Joe settled in behind the counter. The glassware Moira had cannoned into was a loss, so after he finished helping Mrs.Parker he swept and disposed of the remnants. After that he checked to make sure there wasn’t anything in the forge or the kiln before pushing a crate into a spot where he could see all the tables and sat down.

  By the time Gretta came back Joe had made four sales. The two adults had gone into a huddle and decided that it would be better if Sarah spent the afternoon at Joe’s shop. Gretta would finish out the day and pick Sarah up afterwards. While the pair were fairly certain that Minsk wouldn’t try anything else today, they didn’t want to give him the chance while Moira was gone. Sarah loved the idea of going to “Uncle Joe’s” shop and insisted on bringing treats for Goober.

  <><><>

  Moira spent the whole walk to Merrie Carrie’s trying to get her thoughts lined up. Her mind was buzzing like a wasp's nest. Every time she thought she had a handle on herself, something else would pop up and cause her to spiral in a different direction. Questions with no answers pinged back and forth in her head. Why had Minsk come back now? What had kept him away for so long? What would he want now that he was back? Would this be good or bad for Sarah? By the time Moira made it to her friend's cafe she’d worked herself up beyond the point of words.

  Thankfully her old friend needed none. Merrie took one look at her and immediately swept her to the back room where she shoved a hot drink and a sweetroll into Moira’s hands. Moira opted instead to bury her face in her friend's fleecy chest and cry until there was nothing left. Words poured out of her between racking sobs as all the anger, vitriol, and fear that had been bubbling in her welled up and out. The whole time this was happening Merrie listened, quietly rocking her best friend like she had the night Sarah had been born and Moira had been in the worst pain of her life.

  By the time Moira was spent her drink had gone cold but she sipped at it anyway. The cooler liquid felt good on her raw throat. She drained it while Merrie rubbed her back. When she was done her friend spoke up.

  “Well, tha dumbass is back. What are ya think’n of doing about it?”

  “Off the top of my head,” Moira croaked. The drink had helped but her throat still felt dry. “Skinning him and leaving his carcass nailed to a tree for the croarks, but that’s not fair to Sarah.” Merrie nodded, still rubbing Moira’s back in slow circles.

  “Yeah, as much as I’d wanna help ya with the body, Sarah deserves a chance to at least meet her father.” She watched as Moira’s eyes slowly unfocused, staring off into the middle distance as she contemplated a future only she could see.

  “I just, I don’t know if he’ll be a good influence on her.” She tried to say. Merrie pulled a wry face, hating what she was about to say but saying it nonetheless.

  “Yeah, but the mouth breathing idiot deserves at least one chance.” She put her hands up when Moira turned to look at her. “Now hold on Moira, I ain’t saying ya need to forgive and take’m back. What he did to you was heinous an’ even if you let him see Sarah me’n him are gunna have words when I find him. All I’m saying is that he deserves one chance to try and make up for it. Maybe he’s changed, probably hasn’t but people can.” She shrugged and went back to rubbing her friends back. “If I was Sarah, and later on in life I found ma ma’d hid the fact my dad was still alive from me. Well, I wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

  Moira let her head slump forward. “Why couldn’t he have just been dead?” She thought the comment had been quiet enough to go unnoticed, but her lanoli friend had better hearing than she’d thought.

  “Oh Sugar, if I had an iron for every night I prayed to all the gods that that fool was dead, I could retire.” She wrapped her arms around Moira and gave her friend another squeeze. “But he’s back now, so let's make the best of this. How’d Joe take it?”

  “Surprisingly well,” Moira admitted as she rubbed at her damp eyes. “He even offered to watch my shop so I could come talk to you.”

  “Aww, that man’s a national treasure I swear.” Merrie let out a gusty sigh and shook her head in mock sadness. “If I’da known he was such a sweetheart, I’da grabbed the goods while they were still on the market.”

  “Yeah well too bad.” Moira gave a big sniff and tried to collect herself. “He’s mine now and I’m not giving him up anytime soon.”

  Merrie nodded in approval “Atta girl, you deserve a good man who knows what you’re worth.” She gave Moira another squeeze. “You gunna be ok to go home on your own? I’ll walk you back if you want.”

  Moira was about to turn her down, but stopped herself. “Could you? I don’t know what I’d do if I met him on the street again tonight.”

  “Of course Sugar, what’re sisters for?”

  <><><>

  “Three of Iron, Three of Iron.” Sarah sat against Goober and surveyed her defeated opponent. Across from her Joe ran his fingers through his beard and contemplated how he’d lost the last three rounds to a six year old. Eventually he threw up his hands in defeat.

  “Alright, you win again. Do you want to play another round or should I get out the red wax?”

  “Oh! Red wax please!” Sarah hopped back up to her knees, tail swishing back and forth in excitement. Joe couldn’t help but smile at her antics. He also couldn’t help but be happy that she’d gotten bored with kicking his ass at memory snap. Joe’d just spent the last forty five minutes being absolutely humbled by the six year old cat girl. It had done what he’d wanted though, and thoroughly entertained the energetic child while Becky got on with the task of actually running his shop. Not a lot of production work had been going on, but there was enough of a back stock that Joe wasn’t worried.

  With a grunt Joe got to his feet and sauntered over to this chemistry supplies. Red wax was used for sealing bottles. Its low melting point meant that pretty much any heat source would be enough to get it down to a uniform consistency for dipping. Joe didn’t seal his bottles, mostly because he used the wrong sort of corks for it. So instead the brick of wax had sat gathering dust until the day Sarah had discovered that body temp was enough to soften it into a clay like consistency. Anything made out of red wax would harden as it cooled, becoming strong enough to play with without too much of a risk of breaking. Even then all it took was warming the wax back up and melding the two pieces back together.

  Joe now had a whole box full of little wax animals that changed shape every time the little cat girl and her mother came to visit. He got the box and set it on his chemistry table for her before shuffling up to the front counter to check on Becky. The moz raised an eyebrow at Joe’s limping walk. “Legs fell asleep,” he explained as he drew level with her and leaned against the counter. “I’m not used to sitting cross legged on the floor that long anymore.”

  Becky gave a snort. “You’re not the only one. I swear that’s a sitting arrangement only comfortable for the very young. Do you mind if I take a bathroom break since you guys are finished?”

  Joe waved the moz away and she hopped down the short step ladder she used to see over the counter. Before she got too far Becky turned back and gave Joe a serious look. “If he does come by, make enough noise so I know to come out swinging.”

  “Just wash your hands first.” Joe had taken Becky aside when Sarah and him had returned and sketched out what was going on. Since she lived at the shop with him, Joe didn’t want Becky to get blindsided should Minsk show up unannounced.

  Thankfully the next person to come through the door wasn’t the deadbeat catfolk, but Moira. She had a paper box tucked into one arm and had clearly been crying. Joe came around the counter to greet her. Sweeping the box out of her hands he used his free arm to pull her into a soft hug and a kiss. Moira returned his affections before reclaiming the box.

  “Mama!” Sarah actually vaulted the counter to get at her mother. Using all of her six year old strength, she did her best to crush her mother with her love. “Uncle Joe showed me a new game about matching. It’s fun but he’s not very good at it. I won every game!”

  “Not every game,” Joe muttered, ruffling the catgirls hair. “Just most of them.” He turned back to Moira and indicated the box. “Whatcha bring us?”

  “Just some sweets from Merrie,” she answered. Sarah cheered and scampered off to the work area, setting herself up at Joe’s chemistry table in preparation for her treat. As Joe turned to lead the way back to the counter Moira caught his arm and pulled him back. She gave his arm a little squeeze before continuing. “Joe, while I appreciate the thought behind what you did. Please don’t take my daughter somewhere without clearing it through me first ok?” She gave his arm another squeeze. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I need to be a part of that decision making process.”

  The admonishment stung, but Joe did his best to keep it off his face. Put yourself in her shoes Joe. Her thought-to-be-dead ex shows up out of the blue and then the man she’s dating suddenly takes her child away from her home. She’s got a lot on her plate. Don’t take it personally. To the world at large he gave her an apologetic nod. “Alright, and I’m sorry. I was just worried what would happen if he came back and it was just Gretta and Sarah. I hadn’t thought about what it would be like for you to come back and she’s gone.”

  Joe apparently said the right thing because Moira gave him a loving smile and another quick kiss. “Thank you for understanding Joe.”

  “Any time, now let's get those sweets to the table before a certain child combusts.”

  The sweets in question were a type of fried hand pie that Joe immediately fell in love with. The filling was a syrupy purple color with a sharp sour tang that perfectly countered the sugar glazed crispy crust. Had Joe been in his teens he would have probably consumed about twelve of the fist sized pies. Since he was pushing forty he opted for nursing one as long as possible before enviously eyeing the bottomless pit that was Becky. After the snacks were consumed the trio of adults sat and talked around the chemistry table while Sarah went back to playing with her red wax. Whenever a customer came in Becky shot up before Joe even registered the door was opening.

  That little moz is gunning for a raise he thought to himself as she cheerfully sold an elderly couple a pair of pain relievers and “intimate stimulants” with a straight face. Near sundown Gretta stopped by demanding to know why she’d been left all alone at the foundery. She let up when she realized that Moira had legitimately lost track of time and was embarrassed at doing so.

  With a house suddenly stuffed with people Joe decided it was time to flex his culinary muscles and invited the Fairchild household to stay for dinner, a proposal they were more than willing to agree to.

  “Can we stay the night?” Sarah asked, bouncing from foot to foot. Moira looked at Joe who shrugged.

  “I don’t mind in theory, but my place isn’t really set up for having overnight guests.”

  “Oh I have an extra hammock Sarah’d fit in.” Becky interjected before the little catgirl had a chance to even look sad.

  “Yeah, and I can go back and get my camp bed.” Gretta put in. She leaned over and planted an elbow in Sarah’s rib, almost knocking the young girl over with the force. “We could have a girls only campout in the basement. We’ll get some snacks from Swiftly’s, stay up late and tell you all about the adventures we’ve been on.”

  Sarah’s eyes lit up and the bouncing got even worse. “OhcanweMom?

  Canwecanwecan?”

  Moira waved at her daughter to stop before turning and looking back at Joe. “Would that be ok?” It sounded more than ok to Joe. Just having Becky around had made the space feel more homely. The idea of having Moira and Sarah here just felt right. He chuckled and nodded his head. “I’ll have to make a good sized meat tray for you girls if you’re going to be up late swapping stories.”

  Sarah exploded, dancing around everyone and cheering. She even planted a kiss on a startled Goobers snout before continuing to prance around like she’d won the lotto. Moira could only shake her head and smile at her antics. She shot Joe an appreciative look.

  “Thanks Joe, you’re helping to make what would have been a really shitty day feel a lot better.” She gave him a wink, “I’m sure if you’re really nice and make us lots of snacks the girls and I will even let you join us.”

  “What’s this ‘us’ you’re talking about?” interrupted Gretta. A shit eating grin plastering itself across her face as she squared up looking at her boss. “I said it was a girls only campout. We don’t need no parents cluttering up the place telling us what to do.” Gretta gave her now reddening boss a huge wink. “You’re just gonna have to find something to do between the two of you.”

  Joe shot a glance at Moira who was opening and closing her mouth like a landed fish. Their eyes met and both colored like a pair of schoolyard lovers caught holding hands. It was enough to make Gretta cackle like a madwoman before she had to sprint for the basement, her boss in hot pursuit. Joe turned to a smiling Becky. “Hey Becky, you don’t mind closing up real quick while I hit Swiftly’s for some supplies?”

  Becky frowned as she looked up at him, “aren’t we all going?” A sharp scream cut off by the sounds of a struggle shot up through the floorboards, causing both to look at the basement stairs. When nothing more happened Joe turned back to his mozish assistant.

  “I’d rather the Fairchilds stay here and settle in. Plus the trip will go faster if I just run over myself.” Plus there’s less of a chance of them running into Minsk again if they stay here, he admitted in the privacy of his own head. If Becky guessed at his real reason, she gave no inclination of it. Instead she shrugged and got to the business of locking the doors and sweeping the floors, as was their custom after the customers went home. She managed to rope a fidgety Sarah into helping her, letting the girl lock up the displays on the shop floor. Whatever Moira had been doing to her errant assistant had stopped, but neither had returned from the basement, which let Joe slip out the front unnoticed.

  <><><>

  Joe managed to squeak in just before Paul locked the door. He apologized profusely, explaining that he was having an impromptu get together with the Fairchilds and needed more supplies to make them all dinner. The mention of Moira went a long way to thawing the frosty reception he got from Paul who nevertheless locked the door behind him as he let Joe in. Keeping the small talk to a minimum, Joe rushed about plucking item after item from shelves and bins as he completed his mental checklist for everything he needed to make tonight special. Within the span of about five minutes Joe had everything in hand and paid for, being politely but firmly ushered to the door and locked out.

  Joe took a moment in the failing light to double check he had everything before setting off on his way. He wasn’t entirely sure Paul would let him back in if he’d forgotten something, but he knew for sure he wouldn’t if Joe had to come back in an hour when Joe realized he forgot something in the middle of cooking. With his eyes down on his basket, Joe missed the approaching shape in the gathering gloom.

  “Well, if it isn’t the new chemist. Making some late night purchases?” Joe knew immediately who the voice was, even before looking up. Aw fuck, well here we go. At least Moira isn’t here. Joe did his best to smile as he looked up at Minsk’s much larger frame.

  “Good evening, Minsk was it?” Joe would have said more, but was waved into silence by the larger man.

  “Enough, don’t even try playing dumb with me. Did you not think I’d notice that you went scampering off to Moira as soon as I was done in your shop? I am going to ask you this once, and I expect the truth; what are you to my Moira?”

  A jealous little part of Joe sat up and growled. Oh, your Moira eh? You looked more like her bitch with the way she was smacking you around earlier. Joe stared down the large C’tahl who glared back at him, seeming to loom larger as the streetlamps came on. Wait, he is looming. Is he actually leaning forward?Joe looked away, glancing at their shadows spread across the pavement. He is! He’s trying to lean over me, the dumb fuck. Looking back at Minsk Joe fixed him with his hardest look. “Weren’t you listening when Moira told you? We’re dating.”

  That statement earned him a snort from Minsk, who crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “You were dating. You’re not anymore.” Joe was too dumbstruck to respond before Minsk steamrolled on. “Moira’s true love has returned, and it’s time for a usurper like you to step away from my family.” Minsk turned to leave, shooting one last comment over his shoulder again. “You should start buying your glass somewhere else, chemist. I don’t want to see you near Moira again.”

  “No”

  Minsk froze in the illumination of one of the street lamps. He half turned to find Joe standing where he’d left him, Joe’s own arms crossed now, basket set to one side on the pavement.

  “Excuse me?” Minsk hissed.

  “You heard me, no. You’ve been gone for six years buddy. You showed Moira just how much you cared about “your” family the day you weren’t there to hold her hand and see your daughter be born.” Minsk had fully turned around at this point, but Joe didn’t care. He was beyond being intimidated by the poor excuse for a man standing in front of him. All he felt at this point was a righteous sort of anger. How dare you, kept ringing back and forth in his mind. How fucking dare you try and go behind Moira’s back and decide things for her?

  Minsk didn’t say anything. Instead the only sound that filled the quiet street was the ringing of steel on steel as Minsk drew his sword. He leveled the blade, pointing it straight at Joe's heart. Joe shot the blade a contemptuouse look.

  “The next words out of your mouth-” Minsk hissed before he was interrupted by Joe.

  “You know what? I fucking dare you. Go ahead and swing on me. I’m not a monster, I’m not attacking you, hell I’m not even armed. You may be allowed to carry that thing around like a big dick badge, but I doubt you’ve got carte blanche to use it whenever and on whoever you want.” Joe glared Minsk straight in the eye, not once looking down at the sword leveled at him. “In other words, put that thing away.” They stood there for a moment longer, locked in that dangerous tableau as Joe started to wonder if he’d let his mouth get away from him.

  It was Joe who finally broke it, looking away to grab his basket of groceries and walking away. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, half turning himself to look at the still stationary Minsk. “There’s no way you can say you were defending yourself if you stab me in the back so you might as well just get going.” With that Joe turned and went home. His heart pounding in his ears and his legs shaking ever so slightly.