From the main street of the pottery shop, Zulwatha had a clear view of the nearest major intersection in the area. Foot traffic was light just after noon, and a large portion of the locals were either in siesta mode or preparing for lunch at home. All the better; it made trying to find her habitually late and somewhat unreliable brother all the easier given the lack of foot traffic.

The heat was strongest at that time of the day, and she was ever grateful that her work uniform wasn't as conservative as those worn at some of the other crafts stores in town. Even under the leather awning covering the front yard of the workshop, the Durotar heat was intense and she found herself wiping her temple with a handkerchief even in the shade. The sandals she was holding on to for her sister in law weren't cumbersome or any sort of a bother, but Zulwatha preferred not to hold on to the possessions of others. Inevitably, she found herself stressing over keeping the objects safe - from what, she did not know - and constantly checking the sundial or the mechanical gnomish designed clock to count how many minutes late someone was picking up their belongings from her. One of the downsides of being trustworthy with other people's things was constantly being asked to hold on to other people's things.

Fortunately, most of the shop's customers had chosen to show up early that morning, and by noon they had already reached their target for the amount of merchandise they aimed to sell every week day. A lull in the flow of browsers and buyers settled in, granting her the time to hand off the sandals to her brother and then take her lunch break.

As soon as he actually showed up to take the sandals, of course.

Apparently, the older of the two potters at work inside noticed her absence - quite often, the two of them became so entranced by their work that they didn't notice her or the customers. "Dear, your brother will come to the shop whether you see him first or not; there's no reason to let yourself languish outside," he stated from inside in a raised voice. Normally she wouldn't allow an unrelated man to refer to her as dear, though in the case of the well intentioned old potter with the grey goatee, an exception could be made.

Seeing no argument against what he'd said, Zulwatha stepped back inside. "I suppose your right. I just hope he comes soon; I don't want to leave and miss him when he drops by."

"His fault if he's late and missed you," the old potter replied without looking up from his work.

"Not in the eyes of a family like mine. Responsibility goes out the window." She regretted what she'd said just after saying it, chiding herself quietly for making negative comments about her own family in front of someone unrelated. "Him and his wife didn't want to fix the sandals until I mentioned I could get a discount at a place I always go to. I sort of got myself trapped in this one."

The two potters just continued their work. The older man grunted perhaps in affirmation that he'd heard her, but not necessarily that he agreed with her blaming of herself; the younger looked like he was about to say something, but shut his mouth at the last second and just continued working.

All for the better, Zulwatha thought. He was a great worker but not the best at giving advice. Stashing the sandals beneath the counter, she resigned herself to finding something else to occupy her time with in the shop until her brother showed up.

She didn't have to wait long. Outside the doorway, a shadow loomed in the shape of a local man carrying multiple objects in his arms. An internal groan rang out in her mind and she could already tell that it was someone who had come to complain.

"Good morning, sir," Zulwatha beamed as politely as she could, "and welcome to-"

"A shop that sells poor quality materials," the indignant Darkspear man interrupted as he laid four shattered pieces of a tall jug used for carrying water long distances on the counter. Without even looking up, the man began to arrange the pieces in some strange order as if the entire world could stop and wait according to his schedule. "This water jug is wrong," the man tried to explain, failing miserably. The older of the two potters continued his work, but his ears pricked up at the insult thrown toward the quality of their product.

Her patience a bit thin when she was nervously awaiting the arrival of her brother and the start of her lunch break, Zulwatha moved to cut off the man's coming rant. "Sir, what exactly happened that caused the jug to break?" she asked calmly.

"Well it isn't a good jug so it broke. I mean, look at it." The man's tone was almost incredulous as he spoke, as if he couldn't believe that someone would actually question him.

"How did it break?"

A look of pure disbelief spread across the whiner's face, but he appeared to be working hard to keep his cool. "It fell off the balcony, how else could it have happened?"

"Alright, I understand what happened now. And I am very sorry that your jug is broken, but if pottery made from any material fell from a balcony to the ground below, it would shatter. Did you purchase a warranty?"

"What? What the...? What?" The tribes man's big eyeballs squinted into small coin slots as a vein in his temple popped out a bit. "Did I buy a warranty? No, I didn't buy a warranty for a five silver water jug!"

The two potters, hard at work producing the shop's pottery, began to work even faster in irritation at the whiner's insults to their work. Not wanting an argument to break out, Zulwatha tried diffusing the situation the best she could, and her brother's truancy was quickly forgotten. "Well sir, unfortunately there isn't much I can do for you if you don't have a warranty; we aren't responsible for the wind, or however the edge of your balcony is constructed; perhaps you should contact the balcony shop and demand a refund from them." Just as she made her subtle jab back, the tauren that shared attendant duties with Zulwatha - Sequoia might have been her name, or something like that with an S - walked in and rolled her eyes, already discerning what exactly was happening.

The jab was, apparently, too subtle for the whiny customer who made no move to collect the pieces of the broken jug from the counter. "Shows what you know; balconies aren't sold in shops!" he sneered, much to the amusement of the younger potter, who snickered unnoticed at the disgruntled customer.

Breathe in, breathe out; Zulwatha repeated the mantra to herself as she forced herself to smile before she told the customer off. There was the off chance that he could be placated by a keychain or other cheap trinket, and would most likely return to buy more jugs the week after. Dealing with the insults was just a part of weathering the storm, though she found herself wondering what was taking Saqqara or whatever her name was so long to finish up in the dressing room and take over the counter so Zulwatha could escape.

Before she could try to pacify the whiner, a shadow bearing an oddly familiar gait poked across the doorway, and the sound of two toed troll shoes pattered on the gravel beneath the shop's awning out front.

"Um...excuse me, miss?" the raspy voice asked almost timidly from the front doorway. "Do you have a sec...can you answer a few questions about the pieces out front? I'd like to purchase pottery with a warranty."

It was the cute nerd who had stopped by the shop the previous week to ask odd questions. His shoeclad feet contrasted with the bare, calloused feet of the whiner as much as their attitudes did. There was a sympathetic look on the shorter but kinder man's face, though Zulwatha had difficulty focusing on his expression due to the fact that his shirt was tucked into his pants. She'd seen blood elves and some of the orcs wearing their shirts on the inside and pants on the outside before, but never a jungle troll; most of the men didn't even wear shirts at all. It just looked so weird to her on a man of her own race.

Seizing the opportunity before she lost it, Zulwatha turned on her cold shoulder and busy shopkeeper mode. "Yes sir, I would be glad to assist you in actually buying something," she replied while walking toward the doorway, almost surprising herself by how passive aggressive she sounded. She didn't like behaving in such a way, but she had a feeling that the disgruntled customer wouldn't take the hint any other way.

Challenge accepted; the whiner stared daggers at the nerd just as Sarasota clopped out of the dressing room. "Hey, I'm not done yet!" the gangly whiner griped after the pair as they exited the shop. From the outside, Zulwatha could hear the tauren asking who left their junk in the counter, leading to more complaining from the customer and finally some retorts from the two potters, who had heard enough complaints about their craftwork for the day.

Outside, the strange man with his shirt inside of his pants and his pants worn higher than was the style for most of their kind scanned the racks of pottery on display on the front patio. He looked a little lost despite having asked for assistance, and Zulwatha began to wonder if he was the type to forget about things he had just been looking at.

"So, um...hi! And, do these pots actually come with warranties?" he asked, tapping his finger on his lips as he appeared to ponder which piece of pottery he actually wanted to buy.

For a moment, she examined the man's behavior, wondering what exactly he wanted - he didn't seem to even know what he planned to ask. "Well, there is fine print on one of the form letters tacked to the wall inside - behind the counter. Our policy is that bulk orders can be covered by warranty, if you're interested in purchasing a dozen pieces or more at once," she explained, becoming more convinced that the strange man didn't know what he wanted.

"So a warranty couldn't really cover that guy's broken jug, then; could it?" the nerd asked with a grin. His teeth were perfectly white, and his relatively long tusks in relation to his height almost looked like they were polished. It was a far cry from the guys in Zulwatha's lower class neighborhood who often only brushed every two days or so.

Immediately, she stiffened up; she didn't know if the strange man was a secret shopper sent by management to check on policy enforcement. That hadn't occurred at their shop, but she'd heard about it from her friends, most of whom were also working in sales or services around town; if she wasn't careful, she could be entrapped. "Oh...uh...you heard that part of the conversation?" she asked, unable to hide her nervousness.

Such anxiety quickly filtered out of her system at the strange man's suddenly very casual demeanor. Clasping his wrists behind his back, he leaned back and spoke as if he was letting her on the inside of an inside joke. "Well, I was actually having my compass re calibrated at the workshop across the little street here." She had no idea what that meant, but he pointed to the goblin owned workshop further down the street that was constantly emitting noise, static and sparks. "I overheard that guy in there hassling you and thought you could use a break," the nerd laughed. Although he was thin, he somehow still had very slight dimples that showed when he smiled wide enough.

Still suspicious - laughing at his comment would mean laughing at a customer, which none of them were supposed to do - she tried to let out a polite chuckle. "Well, I can't complain about being given a break..." Her voice trailed off when she couldn't think of what else would be safe to say; she couldn't talk about the whiner inside safely, and asking him if he was sure that he didn't intend to buy anything would come off as ungrateful for the quick save from unpleasantness.

The two of them continued standing next to each other, and the man looked down in a way which was almost timid but not quite again. "I'm Taro, by the way. My work isn't near here, but I visit that repair shop frequently," he mumbled without making eye contact.

Forward but shy, she thought. At no point did she ever respond to personal comments from strangers, and truth be told, she didn't even like customers to know her name. One never knew if other people would take certain statements the wrong way and become friendly, annoying or nosy, and Zulwatha had no shortage of nosy people in her life.

But...he was nice, and seemed rather harmless. There was no reason to be rude. "I'm Zulwatha. And I work at the pottery shop."

"You don't say? I was wondering why you're here every day," Taro answered, still looking down but speaking with a little more confidence in his voice.

"Yeah, that's what the uniform is for," she replied, tugging the strap of the sash that all female employees wore. "I wouldn't wear an outfit like this otherwise..." She trailed off again, immediately asking herself why she'd bring up what she did or didn't wear outside of work with a man she didn't really know. Luckily, he didn't take it as an invitation to make comments on her clothing or appearance.

"Well, it's a...a nice shop, what you all have here. I could use some new pottery for my place now; it's a little empty."

Just as a lull began working its way in the conversation, a sunset orange mohawk the same color as Zulwatha's mane flashed at the end of the street, and she remembered that she couldn't start her lunch break until her brother picked up his wife's sandals. "Hey, that's my brother at the end of the street. I need to get something from inside and hand it to him and then...we're having lunch." Technically a white lie as she didn't enjoy socializing with any of her four siblings other than Mira, but Zulwatha was ever mindful of letting strangers know that she might be eating or going to any public place alone.

"Ah, it seems you're saved from that guy in the shop once again."

"Yes, just at the right time," she chuckled openly, relaxed enough not to worry about Taro possibly being a secret shopper.

When he didn't bid her farewell right away, she remained standing next to him as her brother approached, not wanting to blow the man off since he looked like he wanted to say something. "That guy is still in there; would you prefer if I walk inside first and pretend to browse so he doesn't see you when you get that thing for your brother?" Taro offered.

This time, she was the one that grinned. "You're not obligated to do that...but seriously, I would appreciate not having to deal with him again before I leave."

"Don't worry about it; it costs me nothing and helps someone else out. Here." At that, Taro promptly stepped inside, and Zulwatha noticed that the complainer had already cleaned his broken jug pieces off of the counter.

Not wanting to waste time, she filed in after Taro, who was using his frame to block the doorway and part of the counter. The space to squeeze in to the shop was so narrow that she practically had to brush up against his back, and she noticed that he smelled not only like the musk typical of male trolls but also of aftershave and some other scent. Successfully, she grabbed the sandals in a bag and exited unseen, save by Taro who surreptitiously winked at her as she left.

Her older brother, and the absolute oldest of the five siblings in their family, had all but reached the shop by the time she made her way off the patio. As tall as her ex husband and built for the manual labor he performed constructing houses and other buildings, Julando wore no shirt or shoes and was very much the opposite of Taro. Without even greeting her, he took the bag of sandals and stood in place to inspect them even when Zulwatha continued walking past him to find a restaurant cool enough at that time of day.

Just as she moved away from him, he took notice. "Hey," he called after her without following. "Are you going to eat lunch now?" he asked.

"Yes, it's about that time; I have to get back to work in less than an hour," she replied, holding her tongue from adding that the reason was his lateness.

"I'll go with you."

Finally he began to catch up with her, and she looked at him sideways. "That has to be the first time in a few years that you've asked to have lunch with me."

"I didn't have money of my own to take any of you guys out at restaurants a few years ago."

Though she accepted him walking next to her as she headed toward an adobe building selling plain tauren food nearby, she bristled at his implication. "You're not taking me anywhere now. Nobody pays for me; you know my rule."

"Oh come on, what am I, some kind of a stranger over here?" he asked incredulously. "Come on, I'll pay for my sister's dessert at least."

"I don't eat dessert. It's extra money for unhealthy food."

"No, it isn't extra money because I'm paying for it-"

"No."

The two of them walked in to the restaurant and sat themselves at a table - tauren restaurants always had enough room on the seating rugs for people her older brother's size - before they let the miniature argument die out. Barely a few minutes and he was already getting on her nerves, and her creeping suspicion that he would try to send some sort of a message from their mother didn't abate even when the waitress took their orders and returned to the steamy cooking room.

Fried vegetables spiced by chili sauce and wrapped in corn tortillas, a specialty of the herbivorous tauren, caused both siblings' mouths to water, and the issue of who would pay for what was pushed to the wayside as they drank precious fresh, filtered water and caught wiffs of chili sauce wafting out of the cooking room.

"This place cooks some great stuff; I don't think we'll eat like this at mom's this weekend," Julando remarked in between sips, immediately confirming Zulwatha's suspicions that he'd been sent there by their family. "It's not a huge ordeal, it's more to get the family together than anything."

"Sounds great," she replied, trying to keep her sentiments and comments to herself. She continued to drink more of her water, and although her brother didn't look directly at her, she could tell that he was trying to gauge her response by his lack of movement.

"Quetzal and Dex won't be there, but it will still be a nice dinner," Julando continued, talking for the sake of talking as she began to feel that he was searching for a reaction.

"I'm looking forward to it."

Momentarily giving up, the oldest sibling fell silent again. Of all the family members, Julando and Mira had been the only ones to keep in touch with her during the height of her quarrels with their mother. Mira was the closest to her; her daughter, Rima, was named as a sort of tribute to the woman. Though Julando had distanced himself from Zulwatha after she moved out on her own, he still asked about her and even visited Mira sometimes as an excuse to see her. That didn't mean he was willing to defend her before their parents, however, which had soured Zulwatha toward him; perhaps more than it should have, she admitted to herself. He had never done anything to her directly, and for sure he was under pressure not to contradict all their mother's criticism of the disobedient daughter, but the fact that he never stuck up for her had hurt her more than he or she had expected.

Feeling contrite, she turned to face him, finding him looking up to see her quickly. "Thanks for coming along," she conceded, trying to take solace in the fact that even if he never defended her, he at least wasn't antagonistic like their younger brother.

In a flash, his eyes lit up at the comment, and his body language loosened. A simple man and by no means deep, it took little to make Julando happy, and her lingering resentment was at least mixed in with relief that he at least disagreed with their parents' inside his heart.

The door was opened, and he became bolder. "Mom is glad that you're finally going to visit," he said, his expression blank and unreadable.

For a few seconds she closed her eyes and tried to separate the comment from the commenter. Much less independent than herself, Mira or Quetzal, he was likely just a reluctant messenger for their mother as the woman tried to renew her mind games. "I was always ready to visit; mom never invited me."

"The house is always our house," Julando replied shyly and dispassionately, referring to their parents' household. "Any of us can go to visit any time."

"Julando, do you remember at all what mom said after I moved out? The things she said-"

Saved by the bell, the waitress came and set the communal plate down for the two siblings to eat, cutting short a sentence that Zulwatha surely would have regretted. The food smelled incredible, and her bubbling irritation at her brother's ostrich like behavior was swept away by the salient, sizzling scene of spicy chili.

Just as hungry as her, Julando forgot the conversation and the two of them both devoured their food rather quickly. The two of them had almost finished before he had the chance to speak again.

"I'm buying you dessert," he insisted.

"No."

"I'm buying it. Waitress!"

"I said no."

"Waitress, we need flan covered in caramel over here!"

"Stop yelling across the restaurant, the servers at these places work really hard."

"Two saucers of it!"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm paying for dessert."

"Julando I'm being serious, you know my rule!"

"Don't care. Waitress!"

"She already heard you, just leave the woman alone!" Once the irritated waitress disappeared into the cooking room, Zulwatha succeeded in getting her brother's attention again. "Don't shout in public like that, they'll think we're river people."

"Your kids are half river people."

"What! Why would you bring that up!" she snapped, old memories of a topic she considered off limits flowing back to her.

For a second he just stared at her like a deer in the headlights of a dwarven war machine, but eventually he realized why she was upset. "Oh...Thawa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up your ex. Man, that's wrong of me-"

"It was a slip up. Please don't do it again," she replied, her lips pursed together tightly. "Especially not at mom's house."

The disgruntled waitress brought out the flan, and after Zulwatha apologized to the furry, horned woman profusely, the two siblings slowly began to eat their dessert. This time, Julando didn't simply scarf everything down in as few bites as possible. "Mom gets stressed out sometimes. She likes the house to be a happy place."

"She likes to be happy herself. Everybody else needs to focus on making her happy."

"Come on, Thawa."

"If she starts to say bad things about me at dinner, what will you do?" Zulwatha asked bluntly.

"Mom isn't going to say bad things; she's the one trying to get everybody together for dinner."

"She's done it before. You know she has. Will I just sit there and be insulted?" After pausing for a second, Zulwatha spoke again quickly before her brother could launch into another denial. "Don't say she won't, because she did all the time, before."

Staring at his flan, Julando already looked lost and confused and he hadn't even been faced with pressure from two opposing sides yet. For all his age and stature, he still wasn't as independent as his sister. "No, you won't," he replied quietly, not exactly convincing her that she could count on him. "But please...your kids and mine will be there. This should be a happy time. Sometimes she says negative things to all of us; try to ignore it for just one night, and then you don't have to listen to it for another few months."

Easier said than done, she thought. Still, it was the most he'd done to try and find a solution for mitigating the problems he knew that their parents caused at such gatherings, which was a weird form of progress in a way. Enjoying the caramel more than she'd expected, she tried to slow down and focus on the moment - and the flan - and push the thoughts and worries about the upcoming dinner out of her mind.

"Thanks, Julando..." By the time she'd looked up from her dessert, she realized he'd managed to stand up without her seeing and was already in front of the cashier. "Julando, nobody pays for me!" she shouted like a river person as she jumped up and tried to pull coins from her purse before it was too late. If only he could be as doting an older brother as this when the time came to face the family, she thought.