"See, it's one thing," Kat said, still in her flannel panda pjs and slippers, "to have popcorn at movie night. But come on, M&M's and popcorn?" She jumped in front of Lucy stealthily with an excited grin.

"It's like magic!" Casper said, waving his hands in an outward motion.

Soon she was ambushed, both her wide eyed roommates standing (and floating) in front of her, blocking the door.

"Please?" Kat smiled.

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Casper added.

Lucy shook her head playfully and smiled.

"Alright, alright," she laughed. "I'll go to the store on my way home."

"Oh, and Lucy, could you pick up a feather duster?" Casper said.

"A feather duster?" She looked at him, perplexed.

"Yeah, Uncle Stinkie shoved the only one we had up his nose, and it got… stuck…" he scratched his arm uncomfortably.

Lucy sighed. "So that's, three boxes of popcorn, two bags of—"

"—Three." Kat said, tilting her head.

Lucy's shoulders dropped. "Three boxes of M&M's and a feather duster." Casper and Kat nodded.

"Add tissues to the list why don't ya?" Stretch's obnoxious voice echoed loudly from behind, followed by the snickers and cackles of his two brothers.

Kat closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Ya might need some for your little chick flick fling tonight, huh?" He laughed, elbowing his brothers for encouragement.

"I'm flying, Jack! I'm really flying!" Fatso and Stinkie quickly mimicked the famous titanic scene.

"Oh no! A fifty foot shark!" Stinkie threw Fatso overboard in a hurry and they laughed together in a pile on the floor.

Kat crossed her arms and scoffed. "Don't you three have anywhere else to be?"

"Where else would we possibly go when we have skin sacks like you to patronize?" Stretch's neck slithered right up to Kat's face.

"Oh, I don't know, the afterlife?"

Halos and wings suddenly appeared on the heads and backs of Stinkie and Fatso, who grinned at each other. Stretch, on the other hand, snarled, his face reddening in anger.

"Newsflash kitty Kat, we already in hell," he said cunningly.

She furrowed her brow. "Funny, me too."

"Ooh, hurricane Katrina takes the lead with one point!" Fatso made his tail into an intercom while his voice boomed like a radio host.

"Hey shut up, you big ball of bleach!" Stretch spat.

"Um…excuse me?" Lucy squeaked.

The trio, Casper and Kat turned to her mousy voice immediately.

"I'm just…gonna go now," she grimaced and grabbed the door handle. "Does anyone else need anything from the store?"

"Be a dear and get me a box of chamomile tea," Fatso said plainly.

This time all eyes were on him.

"What? You know I can't sleep without it!" He said defensively.

"That is so stupid, you hurt my head, you big dope!" Stretch reached and made a hammer out of long outstretched arm and whacked Fatso.

Lucy flattened her lips and nodded, scrambling out of the door as fast she could.

"Remember not to get in the car with any fleshie you don't know!" Stretch called, materializing a rather matronly polka dot skirt.

"Look both ways before you cross the street, dear!" Fatso followed.

"And remember you can only get one candy bar from the store, you don't want to spoil your dinner!" Stinkie cried.

"They grow up so fast." They all cooed.

Lucy was halfway down to the large and forbidding gate before she could block out the sounds of the dreaded trio's chaotic laughter. Even with her headphones on full blast, clinging to her ears like a lake leech. She tapped a few buttons on her beaten up mp3 and began to quicken her pace as she closed the gate behind her. She let out a sigh of relief upon leaving the Whipstaff property.

Upon hitting the sidewalk, she felt the pavement grind under her large boots and the cool breeze brush her pale cheeks. Even though she'd made amends with Stinkie and Fatso, and Kat and Casper had quickly become very dear to her heart, being shut up in the big dusty mansion made her feel claustrophobic at best. So, she looked forward to her weekly walk around Friendship, admiring the old architect of every old church and the crack covered sidewalks. It really was beautiful, in all it's simplicity, and Lucy—almost for a split second— thought she could envision herself living here.

But that thought quickly passed when an oncoming jogger abruptly bumped her shoulder. At Lucy's gasp, she looked back mid-pace and smirked. Lucy's face burned and she clenched her fists. With tilt of the head, a nearby sprinkler suddenly sprang to life, showering the woman from head to toe.

"Oops," Lucy said, smiling to herself.

Lucy resumed her slow-paced venture and put her hands in her pockets. She couldn't ignore the faint jab in her ankle—her wand wedged uncomfortably between her foot and boot. She hated having to hide it in such blister-provoking places lately, but she couldn't leave it at the house even under the watchful eye of Kat and Casper. For there were three pairs of eyes with stealthy and grabby hands whom under no circumstances, could have in their possession. She shivered at the mere thought. But it was her time, her quiet time to reflect and get some much needed exercise. And maybe get those M&M's Kat asked for.

Back at the mansion, Kat and Casper had gone off to do whatever it is those two got up to on a daily basis, and Stretch glided into his favorite, dysfunctional fleshie's office and plopped down onto his back; slouching against the purple sofa. He waited impatiently for his brothers to come soaring in, accompanied by their endless cackles, but they didn't. Only Dr. Harvey's kind face and usual dorky sweater vest came waltzing in, straightening his glasses on his large nose.

Stretch sat up quickly and squinted, feeling a shortage of courage and comfort. He watched closely as Dr. Harvey toddled around and whistled a light tune. He gathered a few papers and sat down comfortably in his big, important, therapist chair, crossing one leg.

"Morning." He said with a smile in a calm tone. Stretch didn't like this one bit. He felt uneasy and targeted. Vulnerable you might say.

"What the hell is dis?" He asked in an accusatory tone scrunching up his face.

"A therapy session." Dr. Harvey said innocently, raising his eyebrows.

"No shit Sherlock," he spat. "I mean why am I sittin' here all my my damn lone self?"

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" He asked.

"Wha—no, of course not!" He crossed his arms and stuck his large nose straight up into the air. "I mean, not that I don't enjoy our little 'sessions'…" he snickered thinking back to all the pranks and one sided laughs they'd shared at the doctor's expense. "…but I got cigars that won't smoke themselves in da parlor—" he began to get up but Dr. Harvey picked up a large chart and held it up before he could leave.

Stretch suspended himself in the air for a few minutes and examined it with a blank look on his face. "What's dis?" He asked.

"The Feelings Chart. Please," Dr. Harvey gestured for him to take a seat back on the couch.

Stretch—slowly and suspiciously— lowered himself from the air and sat back down.

"Now, tell me how you're feeling today."

"Dis whole thing is stupid. I ain't no mental patient!" He frowned and watched Dr. Harvey write something down. Feeling uneasy, he took another glance at the chart. "Three, I guess." He crossed his arms.

"Three?" Dr. Harvey looked at the chart.

"No, six!" He said, frantically.

"Six?" Dr. Harvey clarified.

"Seven! Er—eight!"

"You only have to pick one, you know."

"Well I can't do that with you breathin' down my neck, now can I?" Stretch snapped.

"You're in control of your emotions, Stretch. No one can decide them for you," Dr. Harvey said calmly.

Stretch felt his shoulders drop and his temples soften. They tightened back up again just as quickly.

"I know that!"

"Are you always this defensive?" Dr. Harvey asked quietly.

"Are you always this annoying?" Stretch quipped back. "Speakin' of annoying, I got a joke for ya!" He snickered.

Dr. Harvey shrugged.

"How many therapists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" He said, holding back laughter.

"One." Dr. Harvey said plainly. "But the lightbulb has to be willing to change." He held a finger in the air.

"You're a real ball of fun ain't ya, Doc?" Stretch grumbled in response.

"Can we continue with our session, please?"

Stretch thought of a come back, but decided to remain silent. It wasn't as much fun without his brothers to back him up anyway.

"So tell me, what emotion are you identifying with today?" He asked. Stretch took a closer look at the chart.

"Two."

"Relaxed?" Dr. Harvey said, surprised. He pointed to the matching face, a light blue one with sunglasses.

"I was thinkin' more, cool as a cucumber. But I guess that woiks too," he shrugged.

"I'm picking up on more of a guarded facade today, Stretch. You seem nervous."

His words made Stretch's neck burn uncomfortably. He was nervous, hungry, and craving a smoke.

"Am not!" He said.

"See, there go your defenses again, stronger and more stubborn than the Great Wall of China." He leaned in closer. "Stretch, it's perfectly normal to be nervous."

"… It is?" He asked, slowly unfolding his arms.

"Of course! Confrontation makes you nervous, I see. And without your brothers here to aid you and build a wall between you and reality, you're vulnerable. And you can't stand feeling vulnerable can you, Stretch?" He asked.

For the first time in perhaps all of his afterlife, Stretch was silent. No witty comebacks, no jokes being cracked, just a vulnerable soul in a big lonely mansion.

"You fear commitment, crossing over. Allowing yourself to have a better afterlife and have some level of peace." He said.

Stretch just sat, staring at his fingers and the floor that showed through them. "But most of all, you're afraid of you own emotions."

He felt pain from somewhere deep. The thought of that bothered him, for some reason. But who cares?

He rose up into the air quickly, catching Dr. Harvey off guard.

"I'm not the one chasing after someone who's been dead for seven years, huh? I'm not some miserable, condescending bone bag! And I ain't scared of emotions! Not now, not ever. I think it's time you threw the towel in Doc, cause we ain't goin' nowhere and you can't make us!" With that, Stretch bolted out the door like a tornado, blowing all the papers and books off shelves.

He flew out the front door in huff and felt as though he were on fire. His eyes burned and his tail was throbbing. And oddly enough, so was his ego.

It was almost four by the time Lucy had concluded her walk and headed back in the direction of the manor. She walked out of the convenience store with a box of M&M's, a feather duster, and Fatso's tea. She hummed a light tune and walked, just like every other day of her time spent in Friendship, Maine. As she drew closer to the house she noticed a fork in the road, one that she assumed led to an alternate route, maybe one that would lengthen her alone time. She stepped lightly and walked through a clearing lined with rocks where the shore brought small waves of dark blue water over them. There were docks accompanied by boats and sails, and the faint smell of fish started to make her nose crinkle. But it reminded her of when she and her dad used to go fishing, so she welcomed the smell with open arms. She just hoped the inhabitants at Whipstaff would too.

She closed her eyes and stood, letting the breeze pick up her hair and sting her eyes. Hands in her pockets, she listened to the seagulls and distant horns, making her feel at ease.

For all but one moment. The wind started to pick up, and the seagulls began to flurry and cry out in discomfort. Lucy opened her eyes, but not soon enough. A grey tornado hurtled towards her and knocked her down flat onto dock. She looked up, bewildered, and wished she'd never taken the scenic route in the first place. Stretch's angry, purple eyes were glaring into her's, and she felt a rush of blood go to her head instantly.

"You," he growled. "Of all places to stick your nose, you had to stick it here? In my house, with all ya shit?" He snapped.

Bewildered, she scrambled to her feet. "Stretch, please I—"

"You know I've had just about enough of your pale sack of flesh sticking it's nose where it doesn't belong!" He yelled, clenching his fists.

Lucy felt panic rising in her throat as he started to yell. She found her voice, but took several steps away from Stretch. "Okay, you know that's not fair because—"

"—Another fleshie! Just what we needed! Eating my food, stealin' away my brother, and sleepin' in her bed!" The color that had been rising in his cheeks vanished as soon as those words escaped his lips. He froze, and turned an icy, cold blue.

Lucy was silent, not daring to move.

His chest moved up and down in a frantic motion, like he was of breath. They both remained in silence for a moment, and the atmosphere around them seemed to change.

"…Who's 'her'?" Lucy asked quietly.

Stretch looked just as confused as she was, and his shoulders drooped in defeat. He stuttered for a moment and glanced around, like he was looking for backup. He turned back to Lucy, looking genuinely bewildered.

"I—" a look of intense concentration suddenly crossed Stretch's face, as if he were trying to remember something important. Lucy thought he looked constipated, and she pondered for a moment if ghosts even could get constipated.

He looked as if he were about to say something, but the sound of a sudden, small, cry interrupted him. It was timid and frail, but just loud enough to catch the attention of both of them.

Stretch shook his head and frowned at Lucy. He inched closer with a look of pure anger in his large purple eyes. He poked her in the chest. "You got no business here, you stuck up, bag of bones."

Lucy curled her lip, starting to get more angry than afraid.

"I never asked for any of this to happen! Or to be the newest victim of your constant tormenting!" Her voice began to rise. "I think," she said with a snarl on her face, "that you're the one who has no business being here."

"Why you little—" he rose above her, and Lucy flinched back instinctively.

The cry rang in the air once again and Stretch turned abruptly towards the sound, clenching his fists.

"What da hell is that damn noise?"

Grateful for the distraction, Lucy stepped toward the sound and looked over the edge of the dock. Bobbing in the water was a small fishing boat, crusted with grime and barnacles. In the center, a kitten lay tangled in a fishing net, its mouth opened wide in a silent cry.

"What's dis?" Stretch asked in a completely different voice. He lowered himself to the edge of the boat, all traces of anger gone.

"We have to call for help!" Lucy said frantically, feeling panic rise in her chest again.

Stretch edged closer to the kitten, outstretching his arm as if to stroke it. At his approach, the kitten began mewling loudly, as if crying for help.

"It's okay, don't worry," he said softly.

Was he…comforting it? Lucy stared in shock as he began gently untangling the kitten from the netting. "This 'lil guy is in pretty bad shape," he murmured, setting the kitten on the dock to get the last bit of rope free.

Indeed it was. Lucy bent down to get a closer look, talking gently to it as Stretch worked at the net. Wet fur clung tightly to its tiny frame, making it look smaller than ever. One eye was closed tight, and the other stared cloudily back at her. Lucy thought it looked around three months old, and she wondered briefly if there were others about.

She stepped away from the two of them, feeling strangely like she could trust Stretch not to cause any mischief for once.

When she was out of earshot, she stopped to look around. "Vitae Revelio," she murmured quietly, so Stretch wouldn't hear. The area grew grey as she scanned the docks and boats with sharp eyes. Brightly shining silhouettes flashed in the water and in the air—seagulls and fish. Tiny glowing specks signaled the presence of insects flitting about. She glanced back at Stretch and the kitten, one a tiny glowing lump and the other a tall, strangely flickering form. She sighed. No more signs of life nearby; either its owner abandoned it, or it got separated from its mother and siblings. She blinked three times, and her vision went back to normal.

"I can't find anymore cats, I think its all alone," Lucy said sadly, stepping back over to Stretch.

"Well 'o course he's all alone, look at 'ow scared he is!" Stretch shot her an irritated glance before tossing the net back into the boat. He bent back down and showed the kitten his fingers, gently coaxing it over.

Lucy watched in amazement as the kitten slowly made its way, wobbling as it put weight on its back leg, to Stretch's hand. It sniffed his fingers and let out another small cry. Stretch's gaze softened and he gently lifted it into his arms, rising into the air.

"Wait," Lucy pulled off her jacket and handed it to Stretch, who gave her a suspicious look.

"It's for the kitten," Lucy sighed. "He's probably cold, and your hands—"

"—'Nuff said," he stopped her short and took the jacket from her, carefully swaddling the kitten so that its little head poked out. "C'mon, let's take it back to da house."

They set off in the direction of the mansion in an awkward silence. Lucy was surprised to notice Stretch keeping pace with her, but she watched her feet as they walked, hands stuffed into her pockets. She was still a little shaken up from their argument, and didn't know how to broach the subject. Besides, this was a side of Stretch she'd never seen before, and had no idea how to handle it. He really was capable of kindness, so why was he such a jerk all the time?

She shot a glance at him. "Do you…do you think he'll be alright?"

"It's a, uh, she," he spoke up.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, 'dere's a certain double act missing from the pahty."

Lucy giggled, despite herself, and she thought she saw Stretch flash a genuine grin at her.

"We just need ta get 'er fed, I'm sure she'll be up and at 'em after a good night's rest." Stretch stroked the bridge of the kitten's nose.

"Good thing Dr. Harvey got more milk this morning, Stinkie drank a whole carton last night," Lucy couldn't help but smile at the thought.

Stretch scoffed. "Usually he waits 'till it spoils but I guess 'e need 'is midnight fix."

"Pfft. Yeah."

They fell into silence once more, and Lucy was relieved when they reached the mansion's steps. "Okay, you get the kitten inside and get her warm. I'll go find a first aid kit, it looked like she was having trouble standing on all four legs. One might be sprained or something."

"Uh, yeah. Sure 'ting."

Lucy went immediately to the bathroom and began rummaging around in the cabinet for the first aid kit Dr. Harvey mandated was necessary. She felt she had to agree with him. "Bandages, bandages, bandages," she muttered to herself as she pushed aside ointments and disinfectants. "Yes, perfect," she lifted the gauze out and ran a washcloth under some warm water to help clean the kitten's face from grime. She privately wished she could use a healing charm on her leg, but judging by the way Stretch was holding her she didn't think she could separate the two. She dashed out of the bathroom and ran down the stairs, jumping the last step. Was she right to leave them alone together? She had no idea where Stinkie and Fatso were, and she didn't like the idea of all three of them taking charge of a helpless kitten.

"Stretch?" She called out worriedly, her voice echoing off the walls.

She heard the distinct cry from the kitten coming from the parlor, and burst open the doors.

"Stretch don't you dare—" she stopped dead in her tracks.

Stretch was sitting on the couch holding the kitten and rocking it back and forth, gently holding a bottle of milk to her mouth.

"Shh!" He said in a harsh whisper. "You'll scare da poor thing!"

"S-sorry," she made her way over with the cloth and bandages.

"She's holdin' on best she can," he said quietly, gazing softly at the kitten.

Lucy felt her shoulders relax at the look on his face. "Where'd you find a bottle?"

"Casper's old things," he said without looking up.

"Here, let me wipe her face," she bent down.

"Okay, but jus' be careful," he shot her a warning look.

"I will, I promise."

Stretch nodded and lifted the bottle.

"Hey there, sweet girl," Lucy said quietly as she wiped the dried mud from her soft face. "There's a white cat under here, somewhere," she murmured as the kitten mewled at her. To Lucy's surprise the kitten still hadn't opened its left eye. She gently thumbed the lid to get a closer look.

"Don' bahther," Stretch said quietly. "She's only got the one."

"Oh," Lucy gasped softly. She lifted the blanket and gave her a good wipe-down, then bandaged her hind leg as Stretch held her up.

"There we go, good as new," Lucy smiled. "Better give her some more of that milk," she laughed, as the kitten pawed at the bottle in Stretch's other hand.

"Slow down there girl, or you'll be as bad as Stink," Stretch readjusted her to make her more comfortable and brought the bottle back to her muzzle.

"You're…doing a really good job with her," Lucy offered kindly.

"Yeah well…I ain't that heartless," he avoided eye contact, keeping his gaze fixed on the kitten.

"Could have fooled me," Lucy said jokingly, laughing nervously.

He glanced up, looking guiltily to the side. "Look, um, Lucy…" he began.

"Yeah?"

"I'm…I'm sorry for yellin' at ya…you didn't deserve 'dat," he was still glancing nervously around, clearly out of his element.

"Stretch…" Lucy said softly. "I—" he remained silent. "I know all this has been weird. Thank you for apologizing…I forgive you." Lucy looked at her feet and rubbed her arm bashfully.

He looked up and his face softened. "Er—" he stuttered, at a loss for words. "Don' worry 'bout it," he mumbled.

Lucy smiled and sat down on the couch next to him, smiling at the hungry kitten.

"She's a cutie," Lucy cooed.

"Yeah she is," Stretch said, smiling.

Taken back by how genuine his smile was, she felt emboldened. "Can I?" She held out her arms.

Stretch squinted at her. "Don't be gettin' your fleshie germs all over her. She's fragile," he eyed Lucy closely.

That was more like the Stretch she knew. "Don't worry, my hands are clean." She put her hand over her heart solemnly.

After a moment of consideration, Stretch handed her the kitten.

"Careful 'wid her, she's just a baby."

Lucy cradled her in her arms and smiled.

"She's so small," Lucy whispered.

"I know, I's afraid I'd crush her," he said, crossing his arms. "Den I remembahed that I have no muscle mass."

Lucy gave him a look.

"But you better believe these bad boys were the sheriff and deputy of Massachusetts in my lifetime," he said, flexing his nonexistent muscles.

"Oh, I'm sure. Had all the ladies wrapped around your slimy finger, didn't you?" She said sarcastically.

"You know it baby!" He said with a smug grin.

Lucy rolled her eyes. After a moment of silence, Lucy looked towards Stretch who was twiddling his thumbs.

"Whata you lookin' at?" He asked defensively.

"Oh nothing, nothing," she smiled, rocking the kitten back and forth. "I just never took you for such a softie."

"I ain't no softie!" He puffed his chest up, hands on his hips "You better watch your mouth, skin sack!" He said.

"You can drop the tough guy act, you're brothers aren't around," she said calmly.

Stretch made many attempts to reply but each one failed. He sat in a slump and pouted to himself.

"I think you secretly have feelings," she said, looking at him softly.

He sat up a little and uncrossed his arms. "What do you know about my feelings?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Big tough guys like you don't just come to the rescue of cute little kittens. The Stretch I know would've laughed and kicked sand in her face."

He tightened his lips, as if affronted by the very thought.

"Maybe ya don't know me as well as you think ya do." He stuck up his nose. "Christ ya such a know-it-all. All ya damn fleshes think ya know everything just cause ya have a pulse," he said shaking his head.

"Well, you haven't exactly given me reason to think there's more to you than just piss and vinegar. Besides, maybe you don't know people as well as you think you do."

Stretch was silent.

"People are complicated, they're not all the same," she said.

"Oh don't play games wid me!" He said. "All ya fleshies are the same. Boring, stupid sacks of flesh."

Lucy sighed. "I wonder what happened to you when you were alive to make you so cold and mean."

"Well dat's none of ya damn business now is it?" He said.

"No, I'm just a boring, nosey sack of flesh right?" Lucy squinted.

"Bingo," he said, leaning back and smoothing his head.

"Now, gimmie back Snowball," he abruptly reached for the kitten.

"Snowball?" Lucy couldn't help but laugh.

"I mean da kitten!" He said, the color returning to his cheeks.

Lucy handed her back to him, and he cradled her gently in the crook of his arm.

"Snowball," she grinned again.

"Hey shut ya yap would ya?" He said defensively.

"No need to snap. I think it's perfect," she said kindly.

"You—you do?" He asked, meeting her glance. His demeanor was calmer than before.

"Absolutely," she said chuckling.

Stretch smiled softly and glanced back at the kitten.

"Snowball it is den."

Lucy smiled.

"Ya know," he said awkwardly. "You ain't so bad."

Lucy raised her eyebrows.

"For a fleshie," he interjected quickly.

Lucy smiled and shook her head.

"You're not so bad either. For a cranky ghost." It was at this point Lucy really noticed the lack of tension in the air, and for the first time she fully relaxed in Stretch's presence. Things were changing, that was for damn sure.