"Rich, I need different Mary Janes." Grace wrapped some strands of Rich's hair around her finger and twirled it around as her head rested on a pillow of his hair on his shoulder. She playfully wiggled her toes and with her foot, nudged his ankle out on the bed they were both sitting on.

"And who the actual fuck are Mary Janes? And why do you need a multiple of them?" He normally didn't like anyone touching his hair, least of all twirling it, but she seemed to really love it. Even when he batted her hand away, her hand would make its way back and get all tangled up in it again.

"Oh, you silly goose!" Grace laughed that tinkly giggle of hers. "Mary Janes are shoes."

"Even worse."

Grace seemed to accidentally tug too hard on the lock of his hair in her hand.

"Fuckin' 'ell!"

Cheerfully, Grace responded "Sorry! But really, I need them. And mayhaps some new jewelry? Ooh and gloves – "

Rich arched an eyebrow. "Mayhaps?"

"No, you're right. I certainly need new jewelry. Now that I think about it, let's go now!"

Rich immediately drew back. "No. Absolutely no fuckin' way. I am NOT going shopping."

By this point, Grace had gotten off the bed and had walked over to his side of the bed. Extending her hand, she said, "It's not shopping! It's an excursion. An adventure! Go on, Richard. Take my hand."

Rich eyed Grace's cute little hand with trepidation. "No."

Grace retracted her hand and let it fall limply to her side. This wasn't the first time that he had refused her hand – when she had asked him to take her to the Angel of Death, her hand had gone ignored then, too. But she was determined to have him take her hand at some point.

And when Grace was determined to do something, she would do it.

Grace fell back onto the bed, across Rich's ridiculously long legs. "Alright," she said simply. She closed her eyes and her hands were primly clasped. She was very, very still.

Rich glanced down at her beautiful, beautiful face. Sometimes, he still couldn't really read her. Was she angry with him? Or did she really not care that much? He couldn't tell.

"Alright, fine. Fine!"

Grace's eyes fluttered open and she rocketed up. She turned to Rich, her eyes sparkling in earnest. "Really?"

Rich wanted to roll his eyes and smile at Grace at the same time. He ended up doing the latter. "Yes. Really."

Grace sprung off the bed, grabbing Rich's hand in the process. "You're going to refuse to change clothes, aren't you?"

Rich was confused. "Change clothes? For shopping?" Incredulity dripped from every word. Was he really with a girl who changed clothes specifically for a shopping outing?

"Ah, never mind." Grace slipped on her capelet. "Let's go!"

For such a small hand, Grace's hand was very powerful – Even if Rich had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to extract his hand from hers. So, hand in hand, the couple was walking along, a steady conversation between them.

When there was a brief pause in the conversation, Rich finally looked away from Grace's face to notice that they were in the middle of a bunch of houses. This was a completely residential area and there were no stores of any sort in sight.

"Umm, Grace – I thought we were going shopping? Don't there need to be stores for that to happen?"

Grace smiled. "I told you we weren't going shopping! It's an excursion, remember?"

"Then where – "

"If I told you, it wouldn't be as much fun, would it?"

Fun? FUN? Rich was starting to get nervous. Where was she taking him?

"We're he-ere!" Grace sang out.

Rich stared at the lion doorknocker glaring back at him. Rich turned to look at Grace, at an utter loss.

Grace just smiled for a moment and then said, "Darling, have you never seen a doorknocker before? Give it a good knock!"

And so, Rich grabbed the ring in the lion's mouth and thrashed it against the door. He wasn't sure who he was expecting to open the door, but he had the thought "Well, that makes sense" when a stately old lady opened the door.

"Halloo, Nana!" Grace swayed up onto her tippy-toes and pecked the lady on the cheek.

Nana – as in Grandma. Shit.

"You're just in time for tea! And who is this young man?"

Fuck. Am I meeting the parents or something? But meeting the Nana?

"Rich. He's a mate. Actually, more than a mate." Grace smiled to herself. If her life was a novel, then that was definitely a literary device – mirroring what Rich had said that first time in Toxic Bob's, though, of course, adapted to her own purposes.

"Erm, hi." Rich stood awkwardly for a second. "Oh," he stuck out his hand.

With a knowing smile, Grace's Nana gave Rich's hand a solid shake. "Come in, come in! The rest of the ladies will be wondering what's taking you so long!"

Shit shit shit.

The couple followed Nana into a room that looked like a volcano of lace had erupted. The room was awash with spotless white, except for the splashes of roses here and there. Rich felt like a fucking black hole that had forced its way into the clouds of heaven.

"This is Lorraine, Agatha, and Millie. And you can call me Nana. Have a seat right here, Rich." Nana patted the seat next to hers at a table with a lace (of course) tablecloth and laden with petit fours and scones and crumpets.

Rich clomped his way over to the table, much too cognizant of how loud his boots were. Grace floated over to her seat next to his and held his hand in reassurance underneath the tablecloth.

"You need a haircut, young man." The old lady named Millie said.

Rich's free hand instinctively went up to his hair. He was about to respond, but before he could get anything out, the lady named Agatha said, "Nonsense, Millie. It's just fine. It's at a right lovely length – that's about how long Stewart's hair was when he died."

Rich didn't know how he was supposed to respond to that – he almost wanted to laugh at what a silly thing it was to say.

Very seriously and with true concern in her eyes, Grace responded, "I'm so sorry about Stewart's passing."

Agatha waved a hand at Grace. "Oh, m'dear, it's perfectly fine. It's been years since Stewart left us. And he went just as he would've wanted to." Lorraine began to shake her head and tsk. Agatha continued, "You see, Rich, Stewart was an avid concertgoer and at a Megadeth show, he just – " Tears began to form in Agatha's eyes. "He must have just headbanged too enthusiastically. He was such an expert headbanger."

Now it was Rich's turn to be serious while Grace had a desire to laugh at Rich's aghast expression.

Agatha accepted a handkerchief from Lorraine. "Ah well. It's not like he could have not gone to that concert. Dave would have been so cross with us."

Rich managed to get words out. "D- Dave?"

"Oh yes. I was a babysitter for Dave when he was young. And come to think of it, the night before Stewart died, we had had dinner with Ozzy."

"Ozzy?"

"Oh, don't let Agatha get started. She will just blather on and on," Millie said sullenly.

"Rich likes metal music, you know." Grace piped up.

Agatha threw her hands up, nearly toppling her teacup. "I knew there was a reason I liked you! Grace, keep this one. Just don't let him get carried away with headbanging."

Grace gave Rich's hand a squeeze and smiled at him. "Don't worry, I won't."

"Eat! Eat!" Lorraine gestured at the abundance of teacakes in front of Grace and Rich. So the two of them began to munch on the pastries and sip on the tea as the ladies continued their conversation. Grace chimed in occasionally while Rich concentrated on not spilling anything on the flawless white enveloping him.

When Agatha finally finished talking about the virtues of elephant-shaped pepper shakers, Grace spoke up, "Actually, Nana dearest, we came because I was thinking I needed a different pair of Mary Janes. I was wondering if I could have a look in the attic?"

"Oh, my dear, absolutely! Go on ahead! We old crones will just continue with our tea. But make sure to give us a fashion show of your finds!"

Grace sprang up, Rich still in hand. "Of course!"

Grace led the two of them up the stairs and then up a ladder into the attic. Rich stood stock-still – partially because he was shocked and partially because it's not like he could go anywhere. The attic was literally completely full to the ceiling of just stuff.

"Think of it like you're swimming or – or crowdsurfing!" Grace told Rich right before she dived in a perfect arc into the pile nearest them.

Rich sat down on a pile of fabric-like things on top of a trunk. "Where does all this shit even come from?"

Grace surfaced. "It's not shit. It's stuff that Nana has collected from her life or got from her mother or her mother before that. Heirlooms. And some of Agatha's stuff is here, too. I don't know how it gets here…she's rather magical like that."

"Right."

Grace hunted for and found the Mary Janes she had been looking for, as well as some pieces of jewelry that struck her fancy and lace gloves. So now that she had found what she had needed to find, she was just looking for fun. Meanwhile, Rich had been flipping through some old magazines that he had been sitting on.

"Oh hey, Richard! I think you might like this."

A ball of black came hurtling through the air at Rich. He caught it and unfurled the mass of black to see that it was a Black Sabbath T-shirt, perfectly worn and creased.

"Put it on!"

Rich took off his leather jacket and his own T-shirt and then put on the one Grace had found. It fit his form perfectly.

Grace peeked around the pile she had been behind. She beamed.

"It's lovely!"

She ducked back around, out of view for Rich. "Grace! Come back out. I can't see you."

"Just a moment! I'm coming in a – Oh."

"What do you mean, oh? Grace? What the fuck are you doing?"

"Just – just wait a fairy's breath!"

"What – why? I'm coming back there!"

"NO!" Grace sounded almost panicked. "Don't you dare come back here, or I will – I will tell Toxic Bob to not sell you any more metal!"

Rich raised both his hands to signal his surrender. "Alright, alright. I won't go back there. But hurry up."

After a moment of silence, he heard Grace's voice again. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Close them!" Grace tried to be commanding.

"Alright, alright." Rich closed his eyes. Partially. He kept them open just a crack.

As soon as Grace emerged, though, she said quietly, "Open them."

And there was Grace, an angel on earth if there ever was one. There ought to have been a halo hovering over her head. Clouds of white cascaded from her waist and rippled as if a gentle breeze was brushing through them. Lace softly wreathed her neckline and she glowed with a blush so beautiful that he felt like his vision anywhere other than on her was just blurred.

Grace stepped forward, toward her boy in black. She held out her hand.

"Shall we go?"

Rich didn't say anything.

For his answer, his hand curled around hers.