AN: My Dear, Deranged Friend (who is mentioned in my profile, btw), how did you talk me into writing this? My attempt in three...two...one...
Mustardseed sighed through his nose. It had been a long day. Trying to modernize the Faerie (AN: I can't spell it! Ahh!), trying to take care of all of the residents, coming up with fund raising ideas, organizing Moth's trial, etc., had all drove him near the point of insanity. He flashed back to just before Puck's departure...
"Are you sure you want to leave?" Mustardseed had asked.
Puck grinned at him and ruffled his hair. "Yes. I have a new home now, and they don't expect me to run an ancient civilization that has survived into the twenty first century. Plus..."
"Plus what?"
Puck looked like he had something to say, then changed his mind. "Plus...I'm not the right one for the job—you know I've always been a trouble maker. You, on the other hand, have always been the good child."
"Is something wrong?" Mustardseed's reverie was interrupted by the businesslike voice of his mother, Titania. She was still wearing one of Oberon's suits, and was standing, arms folded, in the doorway.
"Nothing, mother." Mustardseed lied. You couldn't explain to her how tired he was. He got up, walked past her, and headed toward his bedroom.
"Were do you think you're going?" Mustardseed stopped turned, and looked at his mother as she told him, "We have a conference."
"Now?"
"Now!"
Mustardseed sighed internally and headed after her. It would be a long night.
