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"Well, that was interesting," Dad said as Nick turned his jeep in the driveway and he and Roddy drove away.

"Yeah. I don't think anyone should ever give Nick any sharp objects." Mom and Dad had told Barry stories about Grimms, sure, but Barry hadn't even been thinking about that when Dad and Nick had come downstairs and asked if they could join him and Roddy for a game of darts. Barry was reasonably good at the game, Dad not bad either, and as it turned out Roddy could hold his own as well, but watching Nick nail everything that he'd aimed at had been seriously creepy.

Dad looked over at him. "That wasn't what I meant."

Oh. Duh. Barry flushed.

"What did you think of the Reinigen pup?"

"He seems nice. Kind of quiet, but I can't really blame him." Barry hadn't exactly been in a chatty mood either, and this was his house. And that was on top of the fact that he was way, way higher up the food chain than Roddy was, even if they weren't exactly living in ancient times anymore.

"You told him what happened with...?" Dad trailed off with a vague wave of his hand.

"Some of it. I mean, I told him about the ankle monitor and a little bit about why I've got it, but I didn't figure the name of the actual ritual would mean anything to him." And getting into the more...detailed...details was more than Barry had been willing to do at a first meting.

"He was okay with it?"

"Definitely not okay, I think he was pretty close to bolting at first, but..." This time Barry was the one who trailed off, shrugging. "I tried to explain that it had all gone too far too fast, and he seemed to get that. And he did stick around for darts. And he said that might come back." Barry wasn't totally sure that he'd meant that last part, but he'd pulled out a weirdly basic phone for number swapping when Barry had asked which was at least something.

"You'd like that?"

"I think so." Maybe they wouldn't end up actual friends, Barry still wasn't too sure about the process there, but even if he was just someone to play games with every once in a while, it would be a nice break in Barry's routine. He hesitated. "Is that okay?" He really didn't like going against his parents—well, his father, now—and Dad definitely hadn't been thrilled about extending the invitation even if he'd been the one to call Nick back in the end.

This time Dad was the one who hesitated, but after a minute he nodded. "I suppose. He seems polite enough, at least, and he obviously takes his classes seriously even if music as a career seems a little impractical."

Barry was almost certain that there had been at least one orchestra among the lists of causes that Mom and therefore Dad had supported so presumably some people managed exactly that, but whatever. At least Dad wasn't objecting to Roddy himself. Barry still didn't get why being a Reinigen rather than something else would matter anyway...having a human coming around might be a little tricky, sure, but a Wesen of any sort would know the score.

"You know that you're going to have to be careful if he does come over, though," Dad continued. "He might weigh a little more than half what you do, there's no way he hits two-thirds. You can't play rough him the way you could with the twins."

That almost rated an eye roll since Barry wasn't an idiot, but he understood where Dad was coming from. He and Jason and TB had left more than their fair share of broken furniture in their wake over the years, and Barry suspected that most of that furniture was sturdier than Roddy. At the very least the pool table probably weighed more. "I doubt it'll be an issue. He might be willing to come over again sometime, but I think he'd rather that I stay out of arms' reach."

So that had been anticlimactic. Barry's parole officer had finally put in an appearance for that home visit, but he'd declined an invitation to come inside, and the visit itself couldn't have taken more than fifteen minutes. It might even have been closer to ten as he'd read through a series of clearly-standard questions and hadn't seemed too invested in the responses.

Yes, Barry was still living here. Obviously, although Barry hadn't said that part out loud.

No, there were no firearms or other dangerous weapons on the property. Barry had, of course, selectively ignored claws and fangs and such as any Wesen would.

No, he wasn't taking any drugs or consuming any alcohol. Despite being required to take several drug tests while in prison, experiences that Barry could have done without although they'd been relatively minor in comparison with everything else, drugs were a nonentity as far as he was concerned since no self-respecting Jagerbar would ever do something like that. And while Mom had started allowing him a glass of wine at formal dinners way back when he'd been fifteen or sixteen, there hadn't exactly been any of those since his arrival back at home.

No, he hadn't had any interactions with anyone from the prison or connected with the prison, presumably referring to those gang contacts that he still didn't have, since his release.

No, he wasn't working anywhere, he was focusing on his classes and community service requirements. And yes, he had registered for all of his community service rotations prior to leaving the property.

Yes, he had been obeying all of his other parole restrictions as well.

Yes, he had interacted with law enforcement recently, and that part of the conversation had lasted the longest since Mr. Marin obviously hadn't been expecting it, but once Barry had explained that except for Nick and his partner showing up at one of Barry's community service rotations for reasons that had had absolutely nothing to do with Barry they'd all been social interactions, he'd lost interest.

Mr. Marin—Barry was pretty sure that his first name was Mark, but he also figured that he was better off being as respectful as possible—had left shortly after that with a reminder that Barry had an appointment with him at the parole office next week and that he'd be verifying Barry's previous answers before then, and while Barry assumed he meant that he'd be checking in with whatever companies were doing the ankle and online monitoring, there hadn't been much for Barry to say in response except to agree and wish him a good day.

Barry waited until the car was out of sight and then headed back inside and to the snack that he'd abandoned. Anticlimactic and generally weird, really...surely as long as Mr. Marin had come this far it would have made sense for him to actually check out the house? There was nothing he'd asked today that he couldn't have asked just as easily next week so they only thing he'd really accomplished was confirming that Barry was here. Which, presumably, the ankle monitor could have told him.

But whatever, requirements were requirements, and maybe verifying that the ankle monitor was working properly was part of that.

The remains of the snack were gone in two bites, and then Barry headed downstairs. He'd done marginally better on the calculus retest than the original version, but he really needed to do a better job of staying on top of the material going forward. Granted that leaving the prison and getting settled back in here probably hadn't helped, but the break shouldn't have affected him that much.

Once he'd reviewed and submitted his latest set of calc homework, he finished off his next set of history problems as well since there wasn't much to them and then checked next week's schedule. History test next Tuesday—essay format, which Barry kind of preferred—but he'd have to do that after his meeting with Mr. Marin. He didn't have any assignments due in his communications class until a three-essay portfolio submission a little less than two weeks from now, but he did have a message from his teacher, and he opened it quickly.

"Huh." Barry appreciated the compliments on his writing, although he had attended fairly prestigious private schools for twelve years which he figured gave him a little bit of an advantage over some of his current classmates, but while he'd always done well with his writing even at those private schools no one had ever asked him about tutoring before. She even talked about the usual rates for tutoring and pointed him towards the college writing center which was kind of cool.

Jobs were allowed while on parole, hence Mr. Marin's questions, and while Barry hadn't seriously thought about trying to get one before something like this might be kind of interesting. The closest thing to a 'real' job he'd had before, aside from working the loading docks in prison, had been when Mr. and Mrs. Colbert paid him and the twins to help out with big open houses or Mom and Dad had done the same for charity fundraisers. Those didn't exactly count.

Barry checked the writing center link his teacher had pointed him to, but according to their requirements he couldn't even try to apply until next semester since it required at least one full semester as a student at the college. That wouldn't affect the individual tutoring her email was asking about, though, and after a minute Barry typed out a quick reply. If whoever was asking about a tutor was wasn't willing to meet online he'd have to figure out the whole parole requirement thing sooner rather than later, but since he was going to meet with Mr. Marin next Tuesday anyway he could at least ask.