Seeing as there was no older brother to fill the role, it was only natural that Jeffrey Tifton would be the one to put the fear of God into all of the poor boys who walked up the from steps of the Gardam Street residence and into the lives of its daughters.

The situation had actually worked quite well. True, Tommy had never really been that frightened of a kid who was two years younger and quite a bit smaller, but by the time it was Skye and Jane and—eventually—Batty's turn to bring home unsuspecting boys, he had filled out a bit and was definitely able to get the message across.

Hurt any of them, and you die. Painfully.

(It was quite possible that Skye had worn off on him a bit too much.)

And so everything went quite smoothly for quite a few years. Boys came and went, some lasting longer than others, and he had yet to kill anyone. (He had been planning on taking care of a certain redhead that had broken Jane's heart, but Skye had beaten him to it.)

Yet, alas, like all well-oiled machines, there comes a time when the system is thrown something it just can't handle.

Which is exactly why Jeffrey found himself staring at his shaving mirror on the evening of Skye's 19th birthday, talking to himself.

"So you're the new guy, are you?"

"Yep. That's me. Only I'm not really that new. In fact, I think I'm bordering on senile. And you know you why I think I'm bordering on senile? It's not because I pulled a hamstring playing soccer last season, and it's not because I go swim laps at five in the morning. It's because I'm talking to myself and only really nutty old guys talk to themselves. Wanna watch that, man."

"Well, at least that's good news," shaving-mirror Jeffrey responded smugly. "If you're old and senile I won't have to kill you for doing something to Skye that you may regret."

"Oh, I'm not that senile, yet, and believe me, I wouldn't regret it."

"And what is that smirk supposed to mean, young man?"

"Nothing. Look, I would never hurt Skye, and you should know that!"

"Yes, well, I've been your subconscious for long enough to know just how long you've wanted to take her out on a date, and how your heart beat speeds up when she comes into the room, which is evidence enough for me that you'd better watch yourself, mister."

"Oh, shut up. There is nothing wrong with my heart." He paused. "My mind, maybe, but not my heart."

"Subconscious, remember? I know everything…" shaving-mirror Jeffrey smirked.

"Well, in that case, you should also know that—providing she'll allow it—I plan on marrying this girl. Is that dedication enough for you?"

"That's a big 'if', my friend."

"I know. Which is exactly why I need to stop talking to myself and get going so I'm not late picking her up for our first date!"

"Good point. You'd better hurry. And remember…"

"I know, I know. You're always watching!"

(End.)


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