The apprentice was leaving work the next day, only to be met with disappointment. He saw the young woman disappearing into the chicken coop as he neared the farm. Gray was startled from his soft sigh as he heard his name being called. A bespectacled young man with strawberry blond hair was hurrying to the entrance gate of the poultry farm from chicken coop. The blacksmith was aware of the overprotective nature of Popuri's brother and his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Gray, Popuri says she is going to be spending Starry Night with you and Saibara." Rick's tone wasn't necessarily accusing, but it put him on edge a bit.

The young man wasn't sure what to say in response. In one way, he felt Rick's words were a challenge. In another, he felt that the poultry farmer was getting a feel for him. Gray was not going to acquiesce; it wasn't as if he had done anything wrong in agreeing to Popuri's self-invitation to their holiday event. "Yeah, she's coming to Grandpa's place." He kept any emotion out of his voice to avoid possible conflict.

The young man adjusted his glasses absentmindedly and brushed his hair out of his face. "You're from the city, right?" He fussed with the sleeves on his jacket.

He gave a slight nod and looked at Rick curiously for his sudden change in conversation topic.

The poultry farmer knew that the apprentice didn't speak much, but he couldn't help but be concerned about the way he stared at Popuri. He didn't see Gray as a bad guy, but he simply wanted to look out for his sister, especially if things got serious between the two of them. Popuri needed a man in her life that she could depend on – one who wouldn't leave her…

"When my dad left home to search for a cure for Mom, he put me in charge of the farm while he was away… So is your apprenticeship something like that? Are you looking to take over the smithy someday?" Rick kept his tone casual, or at least he thought he did.

Gray could hardly keep from rolling his eyes; he knew exactly what Popuri's overly concerned sibling was doing. "I have no intentions on going back to that damn city, if that's what you're asking. Why would I go back to the place where I was abandoned?" he spat, kicking at the snow with the tip of his boot as a wave of rage welled up within him.

Rick adjusted his glasses. "Huh… your dad, too?" His voice was soft as his eyes shone with a newfound understanding.

It angered Gray that his throat was tightening. He gave a slight nod in reply.

Without warning, the snow began to fall heavily, and the young man was grateful for the distraction for once. The sky looked like the inside of a snowglobe, large flakes blocking any proper vision. In a way, it looked quite magical, but Gray found it more of a nuisance than anything else. He was grateful for the bill on his hat, otherwise he would be constantly squinting to see like his companion was.

The poultry farmer was looking around them, but Gray wasn't sure what he was searching for. It wasn't as if anyone could see anything in this blasted weather, anyway. "Hey, you wanna go to the bar for a drink? My treat," Rick offered cordially, leading the way to the north.

Gray shrugged, realizing vaguely that he wasn't being given much of a choice. "Eh, why not?" He followed the young man to Doug's Inn.

0o0o0o0

Everyone seemed to have the same idea that night; the bar was packed. Gray brushed the large snowflakes off of his shoulders and stepped up to the bar, his companion following him as he wiped his glasses clean. He turned around and noticed Rick's face was red from the cold and snow and he realized he must look the same. Most of the people who had rushed in to get out of the snowfall were sporting similarly flushed cheeks; it was a sea of pink faces.

"So, what can I get you two?" Doug approached the pair, wiping down a beer stein with a towel. "Huh, it's really coming down out there." The barkeeper observed more guests dusting snow out of their hair and off of their clothing as they walked in the doorway.

"Go on, order whatever you want," Rick encouraged the young man.

"Er, alright. Scotch on the rocks for me." He plopped down on his favorite stool and let out a small sigh of relief at something that would warm his insides.

"The usual for you, Rick?" Doug asked as he reached for the bottle of whiskey.

"Yeah."

The apprentice noticed his roommate enter the bar out of the corner of his eye. The young man started to head upstairs, not bothering to shake the snow from his long brown hair. Gray noticed that instead of rosy cheeks like the other guests that had come in from the snow, Cliff was deathly pale. He realized that he would likely be getting another "I don't want to talk about it" tonight if the blacksmith trainee made any attempts at conversation. Gray was in no hurry to return to his room for the evening.

The bespectacled young man pulled a bowl of peanuts between them and shelled one. "Did Popuri ever tell you how my parents started the poultry farm?"

The apprentice shook his head.

Rick chuckled. "Well, Mom and Dad weren't always into the poultry business. When they were on their honeymoon, Dad bought a rooster and a hen. The two started producing chicks, and, well, the rest is history," he popped the peanut into his mouth and nodded to no one in particular. "I always thought that it was cool that my parents had to learn everything from scratch."

"Well, I know what that feels like." Gray took a sip of scotch and relished in the warm sensations that traveled from his throat to his stomach. "I dunno if cool is the word I'd use for it. Maybe hard is a better term." He shelled a nut of his own.

The poultry farmer gave him a slap on the shoulder as he let out a breathy laugh. "Well, you sure are cynical. You're a lot different than my sister – she thinks everything is amazing." He drank deeply from his wine.

He wasn't sure how to reply to this. Gray chewed on his shelled peanut instead of speaking. If Rick thought they were too different, maybe that was his way of telling him to back off from his sister…

"Sometimes it's hard to pull Popuri's head from the clouds," Rick continued. "She's in love with the idea of traveling the world, but she has no idea that it will really mean."

The apprentice immediately felt his tension fade. "Eh? You mean seasickness and jetlag?" A hint of a smirk crossed Gray's lips. An image of the young woman on a ship with the wind playing at those cotton candy curls was an appealing image, albeit a romanticized one, much like the illusion he saw of her yesterday before she snapped at her brother. He realized she'd most likely be leaned over the edge of the boat or lying in her cabin, ill – she had mentioned to the young man once that carriage rides made her feel sick.

The poultry farmer shook his head as he shelled another peanut and popped the contents into his mouth. "She'd be abandoning Mom just like Dad did."

His companion's stomach did a flip at the notion. This wasn't about his own parents, Gray reminded himself. "I… I think she's focused on the idea of what she sees as adventure," he replied honestly, "but at the same time, I wonder if that would truly make her happy." He took another sip of his scotch and watched the ice cubes in the glass glisten from the lights above. Granted, he had his own selfish reasons for Popuri to stay, but when he really thought about the young woman, he couldn't imagine her leaving her family behind like that.

"Finally, someone who understands! Karen keeps telling me to lighten up, but she coddles Popuri… and because she gives her whatever she wants, I get to play the role of villain," Rick bit his lip as he stared into his glass bitterly, swirling the burgundy liquid thoughtfully.

"I'm… sure she doesn't see you that way." Gray was suddenly aware how stiffly he had been sitting in his barstool. He wasn't used to simply listening to other people vent and offering to provide comfort. The apprentice had spent so many evenings in his room ranting and raving to his roommate about how impossible Saibara's standards were and how he never thought he would be a good blacksmith. He never thought of how it made his roommate feel to hear this day after day. Cliff would always listen without complaint and offer a few words in encouragement in a calm, soft voice. Gray always felt great after a ranting session, but he was realizing for the first time that it took effort to listen to complaining, even if he did agree with Rick on a few things.

The poultry farmer seemed keen on changing the subject, embarrassed at his expression of unhappiness. Gray had a way of making him feel ashamed for feeling that way about both his sister and Karen. "When we were little, we had this weird tradition for Starry Night," Rick looked wistfully into his glass. "Dad would let me and Popuri each pick one chicken. I'd pick a rooster and she'd pick a hen. We would give them names and pardon them."

Gray finished off his drink and looked at Rick curiously. "Pardon them? For doing what, crowing too early in the morning?" he snickered as the alcohol hit him.

Rick chuckled. "Pardon them, as in not eat them."

"Ah," a sheepish grin spread across the apprentice's face. "My bad."

"So, what do you and Saibara do for Starry Night?" his companion asked, finishing off his wine with a long sip.

Gray grunted, shrugging. "Have a sit-down meal together, I guess. Try to be civil to one another. You know, the usual family stuff."

He jumped when he was met with a loud, hearty laugh in reply. "Oh, you're serious." Rick's face visibly fell as he went silent.

The young man tugged on his hat to conceal his eyes; his face was flushed with embarrassment. "He's not that bad, I suppose. Can't cook worth a damn, though. Not like I'm really one to talk," he mumbled softly as he stared at the liquid in his glass. The ice cubes clanked loudly against each other. The blacksmith trainee bought all of his meals at the inn so that he wouldn't have to cook. "… Although I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich," his pale blue eyes lit up as his tension broke and he let out a soft chuckle.

Rick beamed as he ordered another wine. The barkeeper looked at the pair curiously. "You better watch out, Doug! We got a real badass over here!"

"Oh, really?" He raised a ginger eyebrow in amusement, his moustache turning into a huge grin.

The poultry farmer bobbed his strawberry blond head. "This kid says he can make a grilled cheese sandwich like you wouldn't believe!"

The apprentice rolled his eyes. "You need to cut off Rick's supply, Doug," he smirked. The young man stole a glance at his companion and saw a pout on the young man's face that looked very similar to his younger sister's; Gray almost laughed aloud.

"What kind of cheese do you use?" The cook asked in a not-so-innocent manner, rolling up his sleeves as if challenging his tenant to a duel. A smug expression filled the man's honey-colored eyes as he sized up Gray.

"'Murrican…" came a mumbled reply.

The barkeep cupped a hand to his ear and fluttered his eyelids, leaning dramatically over the bar counter, his well-toned forearms intimidating Gray a bit. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that. Could you repeat that please?"

Obviously he had chosen the wrong answer. It was too late for do-overs. "I use a single slice of American. And I use two pieces of white store-bought bread, pre-sliced, of course," he explained with pride. "And I also use some new-fangled fake margarine they eat out in the city, not that real butter you rootin'-tootin' country folk out here use. It makes for a damn good sandwich," Gray beamed, fully aware that his cheeks were on fire.

Doug stared at him with an expressionless face in silence for what seemed like forever. A large smile suddenly cracked across his face and he burst into raucous laughter that vibrated through the entire room. "This kid ain't so bad! I guess even you can be funny every so often!" His face turned serious. "But don't let me catch you looking at my Ann. I won't have her living off of 'Murrican cheese sandwiches." He gave the young man a playful wink and walked to the other end of the bar to tend to a rather lucid Duke.

Gray rolled his eyes. "Yeesh… I think of Ann as a kid sister… Gross…" He took a long drink of whiskey.

"So are you going to make one of your famous cheese sandwiches for my little sister?" Rick asked curiously. Neither of the two was really sure what he was implying, if anything at all, but they both chuckled anyway.

"…Sure." The young man's reply was casual as a smirk crossed his lips.

He'd let Rick take that however he wanted.

0o0o0o0

Author's Note: Gray makes his grilled cheese like 90% of American children, haha.