The man standing before her was barely worth her attention, but he seemed to be of the opinion that he deserved all of it. While Myra continued to hurl some of her books into a chest, he folded his arms and made that tetching noise. Maker, how she hated that fucking thing. Whenever he decided she was doing something wrong, he'd go 'ahek hek hek' until she'd stop and glare. Which then gave him the opportunity to tell her everything she was apparently wrong about and how to do it his way.

At least she didn't have to suffer it anymore. Bright side and all.

"You're overreacting, Myra," he scolded as if she was some child that pretended to see a monster under the bed. Too bad for him, in Myra's life the monsters were real and she was often front and center to their deaths.

"That so, Joss?" she slammed the trunk closed and eyed him up. In the college dormitories, a few people kept walking past her open door. At first they'd glance in, curious, but at the sound of Myra getting angry more than a few heads slowed and made a deliberate attempt to see what was about to explode.

"Yes," he tapped his feet and continued to cross his arms tighter as if he could find more protection in his armpits or something. "Cherie and I are friends. Nothing more. You're being hysterical."

Perhaps he expected tears. She thought about it for a minute but decided he wasn't worth that. Or maybe an argument. Myra was known throughout the college for her tendency to blow up when pushed too far. Not literally, most mages could fight better with magic, but few could dole out a punch like her. And she knew how to end arguments fast.

Instead of breaking down, or hurling a book at Joss' head, or even screaming herself hoarse, Myra cocked a hip and began to laugh. It started slow, a chortle really, but as the man clearly grew uncomfortable her little giggle took on a life of its own until tears of hilarity rained from her eyes.

"Oh did you pick the wrong woman to cheat on. Let's begin with the obvious here, Joss. You and Cherie have been spotted by no less than three people, of varying connections, feeling each other up in the library."

He staggered up onto his toes, a hand raised as if he was about to argue with her. What about? Of course he was. He loved shouting her down, always under the delusion he won instead of Myra getting tired of the fight. "Those are just jealous people, lying to..."

"Two, I saw you exiting her room in the middle of the night," Myra glowered.

"You..." Joss' mouth distended like a fish fighting for air out of the water. The look reminded her how shit of a kisser he really was. Maker's breath, why did she even bother? Was it boredom? Boredom always did her in. Trying to shake his agape moment away, he hissed, "I didn't see you."

Myra leaned closer and snarled in his ear, "No shit you didn't." She'd been managing stakeouts since he was figuring out what to do with his willy, not that he had a great grasp on it even now at age 27.

"This is all circumstantial," Joss wouldn't let it go. No doubt he needed her to take him back just so he could be the one to do the dumping. Posturing was vital in this world of mages where there were enough people you could form pecking orders, but the world so small gossip whipped through the echelons faster than a sunrise.

"You could be right," Myra shrugged bringing a glint of hope to the poor bastard's face, "but here's the real kicker Joss." She raised her voice to be heard by all the people crowding just outside her door. Jabbing a finger towards his chest, Myra growled, "You're wearing her robe, you moron."

Joss' eyes shot open wide and he glanced down at what was clearly a mage robe that fit far too tight to what he was used to. The fact he hadn't caught on sealed his fate the minute Myra caught him marching over to tell her off for the poster she nailed to his door. It only seemed fair to tell everyone that a "Cheating Bastard" lived inside. "Now," she pointed out the door and snarled, "get the fuck out of my room and never, ever talk to me again."

Her story faded as Lunet yanked up a bottle from out of her drawer. Myra blinked, honing in from her far too recent memory up at the College to focus on the here and now. She sat perched on her mother's desk, which Reiss would ream her out for if she caught her. Good thing she wasn't going to as she was off on a call, or problem, or whatever, leaving Myra all alone with Auntie Lunet.

"Did the bastard give you shit or shuffle sadly on past?"

Myra snickered, "The shuffling, though the crowd of people glaring at him while he still reeked of ill gotten sex was a rather nice cap on it all." Groaning, she tipped back in the chair and stared at the ceiling of the agency. She'd only been back for an hour or so since her caravan rolled into town, but with the problems of the college in the past it almost felt as if she never left.

The twins greeted her with the same gruff grumble, her mom shouted to wait for her as she dashed out the door because murder stopped for no one, and Lunet was all ready to greet her with a big bottle of koomtra. It was good to know that in this world of gods and monsters, some things stayed the same.

"Did he try anything after?" Lunet asked.

Myra shrugged, "Dunno. I shipped out a few days later, thankfully. Let his little trollop try and deal with that mess. Blech." She threw back half her glass of fermented tree sap and groaned. "Why is this so Maker damned hard?"

Lunet chuckled, "What? Dating? You ain't had that hard a time of it."

The glare off of Myra could start fires alone. "Let's see, there was that kiss-ass, Dane, who seemed to think getting with me would put him in the King's good graces."

"Yeah," Lunet shook, "your Dad really hated that one."

"Riken, the elf."

"Which your mom was certain you'd fall deeply in love with and marry on the spot."

Myra groaned at that. She should have known the minute she mentioned in her letters that she was with an elf her mother would have already sewed up her trousseau and collected a dowry. Riken wasn't awful; all things considered in her past, he was probably the best of the lot. Which, sadly, wasn't saying much. They got on okay, working together in rune crafting class, but the spark of attraction was a lukewarm noodle left to harden on a counter.

"I never should have told her about him." In truth, Myra figured she'd be dumping Riken before he even got to the meeting her parents stage, but there was never a good reason to do it. He was fine, she was fine. Together they were fine. Just fine. It was bloody boring. Then her parents all paid a surprise visit to the college and she wound up stuck to him for another two months before both adults in the situation came together to admit, 'This is stupid, we should just be colleagues.'

"And finally Joss. So now I can add serial cheater to my list of epic failures."

"Serial?" Lunet shook her glass.

"I didn't figure it out until after, as at first he was smart enough to wait until I was out of the college to fuck around, but..." Myra groaned, "You know the worst part? How stupid he thought I was. This was elementary cheating. I'd have caught him when I was twelve. Bastard wouldn't even wash off after, the stench of Cherie's powders thick enough to kill a rat."

Sure, when she first found out she was livid. Thought about making his life a true trip to the void. But stepping back Myra came to realize how much of a true shitheel he was not just in cheating on her but in general. Why the hell did she stay with him? kept ringing in her ears for a week with no easy answer in sight.

Grumbling, Myra smooshed her face into her hands, her words falling to mush. "I hate dating."

"Men, I think what you're looking to hate is men," Lunet, the woman happily married to another woman less than helpfully pointed out.

Myra glared over her fingers at her, but her mom's best friend was too deep into the bottle to notice. She'd been trying to talk Myra into trying the softer sex for awhile now, but that wasn't going to take. Though, turning into some kind of man-murdering she-devil did sound rather tempting at the moment.

"Is it too much to ask to find a nice guy? One who's not an asshole, that doesn't try to mess with my mind like watching a chicken play chess? That can laugh at my jokes? And is easy on the eyes?"

"Course not," Lunet reached over to pat Myra on the shoulder, "I bet one will just come strolling through your door and right into your arms. All you got to do is wait."

"Ha ha," she sneered, rolling her eyes. Absently, Myra picked at the warm rabbit fur cinched against her neck. It was a bit much in summer, not that she'd dare go without, but served her well on the cold trip down south with winter nipping at their faces. Why didn't she stay in the north next to the warm sea for Satinalia?

"So, you've been doing some magic crafting thing?" Lunet began.

Myra groaned and rolled her eyes, "Rune crafting. I've been studying it to see if..." Her boring explanation of her latest research that Lunet was certain to fully forget about the second it left her lips faded. A jangle of a bell meant someone walked into the office, probably dragging a bit of snow in with. The damn street was covered in it.

"Good afternoon," the front desk greeted whoever wandered into the agency.

"Ah, hello," a voice that lapped around the room like a perfect brandy or that drippy cheese you melt on crackers spoke. It was so low, one had to tip down towards the floor to meet it through all the office walls. "I'm looking for someone."

"Dead or alive?"

"Maker's breath!" he gasped, "Alive, I pray."

Myra smiled and hopped off her mother's desk. Dashing out from behind the office, she had to peel around the other desks while only able to see a shadow of a man dancing in the front. A wall hid most of the inner workings from everyone else in the waiting room.

"Could you describe whomever you are looking for?" the front secretary continued.

"Well, she's got blonde hair and..."

When Myra skidded out from behind the wall, doing her best to keep from seeming winded, his speech fell away. A smile lifted up those pillowy lips and bright amber eyes darted right to her. Myra laughed, shouted "Gavin!" and ran for him. He lifted his hands the same time as her, the pair falling into a great hug.

As Gavin's head burrowed into the fur keeping her shoulders warm, Myra got in a good breath of his cloak that stank of horse. Not that she was much better after the trip. "Myra," his voice practically sang her name, no doubt happy he wouldn't have to deal with Frank working the front anymore. "You're here."

"Yup," she smiled, sliding back to give some breathing room between friends. "Just got in a little bit ago. Northern Ferelden's still there." She smiled and eyed up the man she hadn't seen with her own eyeballs in nearly a year. "Maker's breath, when did you get so much hair?!"

"Ah..." Limply Gavin ran a hand over the...was it scruff or a beard? At what point did the patches of hair stop messing around and form something fancy? "Yes. What do you think?"

It was a bit unorthodox for him to not be clean shaven, but she'd seen it before when he was between towns. What really bowled her over was his hair. With the locks nearly two or three inches long, soft tan curls nestled on top of a sea of black. She ached to rustle her fingers over the highlights shifting in the wind, but kept her hands bundled behind her back.

"The beard makes you look older, but then your longer hair sort of youngers you. So, I guess it all works out?" Myra said with a shrug.

He kept massaging his chin as if he was mentally berating himself for not shaving, but didn't pick at the head hair. Far as she knew, he hated having it long. Maybe he was trying for something different now?

Gavin blinked a moment and pointed at her. "Your hair is different as well."

"Oh?" she thumbed back to her blonde mop before remembering. "Right, I cut it like six or seven months ago." She knew her mother would have a fit, having been of the opinion that girls should grow their hair as long as the Maker allowed. But when it became a serious hazard for working magic, Myra didn't hesitate for the big chop. Now the waves of gold that once cut off around her butt wafted near her shoulders, above or below depending on if she bothered with a trim or not.

"My turn, I guess. What do you think?"

The smile returned as he tipped his head to look at her, "It's lovely."

It should be a simple enough sentiment, friend to friend complimenting hairstyles. But Myra's stupid stomach couldn't stop churning at how he looked at her, nor her cheeks from rising in a blush. Attempting to try and cover both with her hands while acting as if she just really needed to scratch her face at that moment, Myra danced back and forth on her heels.

As the heat faded and a silence fell, Myra gulped and swallowed down the clown that lived inside of her veins. "Gavin," she bit into her lip, her voice flattening out, "I'm so sorry about your mother."

He full body flinched at her words, not surprising. This wasn't something you walked away from in a month, or six, or even a dozen years. But when he looked at her there seemed to be something else in there. "How did you know?"

"My dad," she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. "He's...not been taking it well." The boy who lost his mother shuddered and she reached an arm out to try and hug him. He didn't return it, but looked over a moment in gratefulness. "How's your dad doing?"

The specter of tears rose in his amber eyes and Myra mentally kicked herself for dredging up so much pain. Gavin turned away and his voice dropped low, "He...passed."

"What?!"

"A few months after mom did."

"Maker's breath, Gavin..." her breath hitched in her throat, the tears rising in her eyes now, "I am so, so sorry. That... Shit."

"Shit indeed," he tipped his head to her, the forehead nearly brushing against hers while he smiled dolefully. Maker, she wished she could do anything to wipe away just a moment of the pain wearing on his brow.

Suddenly, he tugged back a bit and walled off. "I should have written to you. I did receive your letters, but... It was my duty to respond to you."

Myra held up a hand and shook her head, barely able to slurp down a laugh at the absurdity of him worrying about such a small issue. "Don't be daft. It's no big deal."

"I kept meaning to, but every time I tried to find the words..."

"Gavin, it's okay. I knew you weren't trying to spite me. You were...you're in pain. Dad gave me the lay of the land. And, shit," she shook her head, panic rising in her eyes, "I, I thought maybe hearing about my stupid day to day problems might lighten you a bit, but now I can see how callow it would seem. Shit."

"No, no, it was nice to read them. To hear from you and know that there was still... Thank you. I'm glad you're not mad at me."

Her palm skirted against his cheek, smoothing down the rough patches of face fur and finding a new scar buried underneath it. "Mad at you? Never. I understood, you needed time so I...I mean, I was worried, but I figured that..." As her words trailed off, Myra's eyes skirted around the very full office who had little to nothing to do before Satinalia and were all listening in on this rather private conversation.

She tugged her hand off him and bundled it behind her back. Trying to smile without it looking like a grimace, and failing spectacularly at it, Myra shrugged, "Maybe we should talk elsewhere. Where there aren't a hundred people listening in. Don't think I can't see you Jorel. We can all see you. I can see you even when I'm up at the College."

Gavin nodded in agreement and moved to undo the cloak draped across his strapping shoulders, when the door blew open. It nearly shattered into the back window as the lady Solver herself dashed into her agency mumbling under her breath, "Blighted pain in my ass. Didn't even need..." she knocked up her hat and spotted her daughter. Dashing forward, Reiss pinned Myra tight into a hug.

"My!" she cried as if her wayward daughter had been gone for ten years.

"Yeah," Myra grunted, afraid she might hear a rib crack, "I'm still here even after you ran out the door."

"Sorry about that. Alienage business, not really. Ever since that fat arse appointed himself in charge it's been one crisis after another that only I can deal with, and when I get there nothing. So...you cut your hair." Her ranting about whoever in the elven slums was bugging her took a sharp turn as she eyed up her daughter.

"Yep," Myra smacked her lips. "Gonna tell me how much you hate it?"

"It's...it suits you."

Myra's eyes bulged out of their sockets and her jaw smashed through the floor.

"Makes you look older, certainly more sophisticated than you really are. As I imagine everyone learns once they talk to you," Reiss snickered, getting in at least one good jab.

That. That was impossible. All her life it was 'Don't cut your hair, Myra.' 'Step away from the scissors. You'll thank me when you're older.'

She swung a sly eye at her nonchalant mother and crossed her arms, "Dad told you, didn't he?" Reiss only let her sight dart over Myra for a second, but it told her all she needed to know. "How much ranting and raving was there before you calmed down? Did you blow a new hole in the roof?"

Reiss sighed, no doubt about to chastise her for leaping to such arrogant and no doubt accurate conclusions, when Gavin coughed. "Ah, perhaps I should speak with you another time. You seem to be..."

Spinning right to him, Reiss melted into a puddle of pity. Myra'd seen it in theory, but rarely aimed at her unless shit went fully sideways. "Don't be silly, you should remain. Catch up with My while she's in town. In fact, you should stay for dinner."

"Dinner?" Gavin turned to Myra. It seemed obvious a string of panic was darting in his words. Was it safe for him to remain?

Myra nodded her head at him and licked her lips. "It'll be fun, mostly fun. Dad's bringing food."

"Your father is coming?" Now Gavin looked as if he wanted to climb out of his own skin and make a run for it. Poor boy, out of the frying pan and all that.

Reiss smiled at the trepidation without perhaps catching onto the source. She wrapped a motherly hand around Gavin's arm and guided him towards the back of the agency. "Don't worry. He should be bringing us some dumplings from the alienage. I think I talked him out of cooking for your first meal home."

"Thank the Maker," Myra laughed. "Cause if he does, I might just leap on the first boat back up to the north."

She fell in beside Gavin while they walked around a mess of desks. For a moment his eyes drifted over to hers and she regretted chopping all her hair off. The way he stared so intently at her, she wanted to hide behind all three feet of it until the blushing wore off.

"Are these Ineria's dumplings?" he asked.

A great smile rose on her mother's cheeks as she patted into Gavin's hand. "I knew I liked you." Giving into the tug, Gavin had no choice but to stay for dinner with the Sayers.