Calvin was interrupted from his wandering thoughts by the impatient tapping of metal against dirty rock. The gangly offspring of the town chef Chase and the quirky farmer Angela was pounding the ground at a dangerous speed with the now dented tool. Calvin smiled to himself, fixed his attire, and bounded over to the scene of the crime.

"Morning. Do you need any help?"

The girl brushed a lock of fallen tan hair from her pretty lilac orbs, before throwing the dented shovel onto the small pile of rock and dirt she had managed to dig up. Her hand flocked to her belt-clad hip, a pout vanishing from her face.

"Yes, I do actually. I'm in need of a considerate amount of help, if you're gentlemanly enough, that is."

Calvin smiled softly, letting his mind wander back to Angela. How her daughter had inherited her wit!

"I'd love to help you, ma'am."

The girl – whose name escaped Calvin – tossed the shovel into his large, waiting hands. She noticed the scruffiness of them, the way small cuts laced his broad fingers. The man started digging at the chosen spot that she had already massacred.

"You're Charlie, right?"

"Calvin." He corrected with a small smile.

"I'm Farhana! Nice to meet'cha."

Calvin stopped as her petite hand waited impatiently in front of his face, expecting his hand to shake.

"Angela's kid?" The archaeologist enquired, as he shook the girl's hand.

"Yep. I mine for a living, at least, I'm aiming to."

"Farming doesn't suit you?"

"Hell no!" She laughed, which sounded only a decibel or so higher than her mother's.

Angela had moved to the quiet island long before Calvin had ever loomed his straw coloured hair and comical ten gallon hat. When he had, Angela's personality and heart that followed were already captured by the local chef and equally sarcastic Chase. The day when she appeared before him at the mines stole most of his peaceful dreams away, until she shrouded them in her angelic presence. Only when his eyes traced the glistening jewel on her ring finger, and the 8 year old by her side did he accept that his arrival was far from early.

Farhana must have loomed on the age of late teens, and he studied her figure as she checked the scarred, chunky watch on her left wrist before carrying on with his digging.

"The ground is too solid here, it's impossible to dig any further without the proper upgrades."

The childish pout played across her subtle, salmon shaded lips.

"Where else can I possibly dig then?"

"The mines, floor 10, is a good place. I could take you there, if you wish."

It was clear that she was thinking thoroughly about his offer, which made Calvin inwardly blush. He hoped, pray to the Goddess and all the Sprites, that he hadn't came across too eager.

"Sure. I'll need a copy of a map or a route you take, if that's alright."

"It is. I'll drop by the farm later."

"Mom will be happy to see you."

Calvin smirked at the mention of her title. "The mine entrance is directly over here, parallel with the door over there."

Farhana stifled a yawn before darting in front of the surprised Calvin, instantly leading the way.

"I don't have all day – I simply need to know how to get down there and back."

Straight talking with a devious smile. A spitting image of her mother. Calvin pondered a possibility as he followed her down the rickety stairs.

-.-.-

An hour of debating and frustration, all on the young Farhana's part, had passed by as quickly as the clouds that fluttered past the sun when they eventually resurfaced. Both exhausted, and covered in numerous layers of dust and cobwebs.

"Same time tomorrow?" She asked as they walked under the setting sun towards Calvin's home.

"If you'd like. Also, ask your mother about those upgrades, she should have a few gold coins to spare."

"I make my own income, actually."

"Oh? Excuse me, then. Do you help around the farm?"

"I foraged, and then saved up for a hammer and fishing rod, and I've started mining and fishing on the side to raise enough funds for a house of my own."

"Oh. A smart head on your shoulders, that's good."

Farhana guffawed. "Yes, that's what Yolanda has told me. You're far from first."

Calvin opened the door to his rather large house, before delving into a drawer and rummaging around for the beloved map she wanted. The straight talking girl stood by the doorway, a slight sweat shining on her smooth forehead.

"Here you are." He laid it against his thigh, smoothing out the crumpled edges.

"I warn you, it will be hard to decipher." Calvin finished with a smile.

"Hah." Farhana glared at him coolly. "I'm 19, I've been around here long enough to solve tricky problems."

The archaeologist raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, then, ma'am. I happen to be a young 31 myself."

"Young?" Farhana laughed as she turned to walk home. "I must admit, Calvin, you sure as hell don't look 31."

Calvin smiled and waved her off even though her back was turned. He hoped she'd seen his polite gesture.

He did know, however, that Angela had done a damn good job on her.

A/N - I decided to throw one of these babies in at the end. I've had this sitting about for a while, so I decided to finish it. I know the age difference may seem immense - well, 12 years - but c'mon. It could work. XD At least as friends if not lovers. Remember, R&R!