.

Two

(In which Lyon ventures into town and loses every encounter.)

Light was already filtering through the window when Lyon awoke, and it threw his groggy brain into further confusion. The life of a hardworking fisherman started before dawn nearly every day, and it had been a long time since he had woken to the sun. At least it was his day of rest and he needn't be in a hurry today. A small mercy.

Small, because he seemed to recall something about finding a selkie on the seashore last night. He would need a much bigger mercy for that one. Although, as far as mercies went, perhaps it had just been some unusually vivid and fantastical dream.

He yawned widely and slithered out of bed. His eyes burned with tiredness and threatened to stay gummed shut with every blink, but he forced them open and shuffled about to retrieve clothes from his dresser and wriggle into them.

Holding his breath, he pulled the door open and stepped into the living area to ascertain whether he had become a victim of fever dreams or realized fantasy. He thought to check his mother's old room and see if there truly was a mythical guest lodging there, but his eye caught almost instantly on the girl hovering by the front door.

She wore one of his overlarge shirts that hung to mid-thigh and clutched a furred seal's pelt in her hand. One hand wrapped around the door's handle, and Lyon knew instinctively that she was attempting an escape.

"Wait," he said. "You need some more time to rest your ankle first."

Juvia started and turned. She blinked at him for the briefest of moments before whipping back around and throwing the door open. Lyon lunged after her with a startled oath as she dashed out the front door. She was no match for his long strides, and he wrapped a firm arm around her waist before she'd gotten more than a dozen steps. She struggled silently in his grip and flailed about.

"Calm down! You're going to hurt yourself more!"

He dragged her back inside even as she thrashed about and tried to kick him with her uninjured foot. Lyon winced as her foot connected with his shin but hobbled on to deposit the little hellion in a chair by the table.

"Stop it," he growled, holding her down as she surged back up. "You aren't fit to swim, and running around on your ankle is only going to worsen the damage. There will be plenty of time to run back to the sea when you aren't injured anymore."

Desperation swam in the pools of Juvia's stormy eyes. Something frenzied lurked there, as if the ocean was calling her and it was driving her wild that she couldn't go to it. Selkies were bound to the sea and it would always call them home, and they would leave behind anything and everything to return the moment they had their skins back. Lyon should have thought of that. In all honesty, it was amazing that she had stayed this long before effecting her escape.

As much as Lyon wished he could let her go, he couldn't let her injure herself further. She needed to stay here long enough to recover before returning to the sea. And the only way to ensure that would be to take her skin.

With a heavy heart, Lyon pried the pelt out of her death grip and held it out of her reach while she struggled to snatch it back.

"I'm sorry," he said solemnly, "but it's not safe for you to go back out to sea yet, not while you're still hurt. I can't let you do that when I'm the one who got you hurt in the first place. I'm going to make sure you have time to heal first, and you won't be able to resist the ocean while you have your skin. So I'm sorry, but I'm going to take it for now. Whenever you're healed enough to go back, I promise I'll return it to you."

Juvia's lips trembled and tears filled her eyes, and she slumped back in the chair as she realized she was beaten. Lyon averted his gaze. He felt like the bad guy, and the last thing he wanted was to be the one to make her miserable.

"I'm going to town for a couple hours," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "I want to get you some clothes and something to help your ankle heal faster. Just…stay here and rest your foot, alright? I'll be back soon. If you're hungry, you can get anything out of the kitchen."

He beat a hasty retreat, clutching her pelt tightly and glancing back only briefly at the deflated woman wilted in his chair. He shut the door and started down the path, reasoning with himself the whole way. It was okay to take her skin if he was planning to give it back. He wasn't like those men from the stories who stole the skins and used them to trap the selkie women into marriages. He just wanted her to be safe. It wasn't the same.

Still, he would have to make sure Juvia didn't find her skin until she was fully healed and ready to go. He was sure that she would search for her skin in her desperation to return to the sea, and it seemed like selkies always won out and found their pelts in the end. He would have to hide it well.

He looked back at the house. His house was small and sparsely furnished, and he wouldn't be able to find a good hiding place there. Maybe he shouldn't try. Unlike most of the men from the stories, he would hide it elsewhere.

Lyon circled around to the rocky crags hanging low above the water, with the pebble-strewn paths leading down to the shore. He moved stealthily to ensure Juvia couldn't see him if she looked out the window and found a narrow little hideaway to stow the skin inside.

Satisfied, if still feeling a little dirty about the whole affair, he picked his way through the rocks until he reached the well-worn dirt path snaking towards town. He dragged his feet and cycled through all the possibilities of how he should handle the situation and how much he should tell the townsfolk, until what should have been a five-minute trek turned into nearly fifteen minutes. But he couldn't put it off forever, so he took a fortifying breath and trudged into town.

Some three dozen small houses and shops and buildings gathered in clumps around the main street and square, and some of the townsfolk were wandering out in the sunshine to make the most of their day off. Lucy and Natsu strolled down the row of shops, bicker-flirting as usual.

"Come on," Natsu said, widening his eyes in a fair semblance of a puppy. "Won't you tell me?"

"It's not finished," Lucy said. She swatted Natsu's hand away from the leather-bound notebook tucked under her arm. She was fiercely protective of that book and wouldn't let anyone touch it. Even when she shared her work, the book stayed firmly in her hands. "I've already told you that, Natsu."

"You can read it to me," he wheedled.

She braced her free hand on her hip and gave him a stern look. "Not until it's finished."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"I said no."

"Plea–?"

"Can you two take your flirting elsewhere?" Lyon asked dryly as he approached.

They both threw him exasperated looks. He considered adding something else to tease them with, but decided against it. They were a couple years younger than him and in his brother's circle of friends rather than his own, and he couldn't tease them with the same ease that he joked around with his own friends.

"We're not flirting," Lucy said primly.

Lyon was not convinced. "If you say so…"

"Come on, Luce," Natsu said, rolling his eyes. "Let's walk down to the beach."

"Sure. By the way, Lyon, make sure you talk to Sherry. She's starting to think you're avoiding her."

Lyon resisted the urge to sigh as the lovers linked arms and strolled out of town, already back to bickering about whether Natsu could read Lucy's latest story. Ah, Sherry. He hadn't exactly been avoiding her, per se, but she could be a bit much to handle.

Speaking of Sherry, he did need to buy Juvia some clothes. Lyon headed for the seamstress's shop and slipped inside to look for his pink-haired admirer. Pre-fabricated garments were strewn about the room, while the custom orders and repairs would be handled in the back.

"Sherry? Are you here?"

Something thudded in the back, and Sherry came hurrying out of the backroom. "Lyon!" Her face lit up. "It's been a while since you've dropped by! I was almost starting to think you were avoiding me."

"So I've heard," Lyon muttered. "As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I have some other errands to run and then I have to get back. I need to buy some dresses."

Sherry's eyebrows crawled slowly up her forehead and nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Dresses?"

"Yes." Lyon belatedly realized that there was no way to make this request sound normal.

"Do you have a girl staying with you?"

"No, of course not," he said hurriedly.

For one, he wasn't sure he wanted everyone to know there was a selkie in his living room. And two, bringing another girl into the picture would only complicate things with Sherry. She had been in love with him for a long time, and everyone assumed that they'd end up married someday.

Lyon assumed that too, but he hoped it was later rather than sooner. He liked Sherry and thought she was a sweet girl and good friend, but he wasn't ready to settle down just yet. He'd rather live a bachelor's life for a little longer, which was easier said than done in a town where the norm was to marry young. He wouldn't mind settling down with Sherry eventually, but she had started to get a little pushy about it recently.

If possible, Sherry's eyebrows managed to climb even further and the beginnings of a sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Then you want the dresses for yourself? Is there something I should know?"

"N-no!" Lyon spluttered, flushing.

"Then there's a girl?"

He gave in, remembering why Sherry always won. "Alright, alright. There's a girl staying at my place because she hurt herself and I didn't feel comfortable letting her run off while she was injured. Her clothes were pretty…worn out."

Sherry pursed her lips. "What size is your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend! I only met her last night, and I scared her and she fell and hurt herself. She'll be leaving as soon as she's better."

Sherry looked a little mollified. "What size is she?"

"…Size?"

"Oh boy."

"I don't know anything about girl clothes."

"Is she skinny?" Sherry brightened and added, "Or a bit on the heavy side?"

Lyon thought back to the slender selkie draped across his chair. "Skinny."

Sherry's lips pursed in disappointment. "How tall?"

"Uh… Shortish?"

"Lord have mercy. Shorter or taller than me?"

"Maybe slightly shorter? I don't know."

Sherry shook her head in disapproval but got down to business. She bustled about the shop as she asked rapid-fire questions about Juvia's physical measurements—including her chest size, which Lyon was convinced was for the twofold purpose of finding out if the mystery girl was better-endowed than Sherry herself for jealousy's sake and for flustering Lyon so that she could laugh as he turned beet-red and nearly coughed up a lung—and searched through the hanging garments.

"Here, this is the best I can do with your frankly pathetic estimations." She handed him an armful of dresses and shirts and skirts—and undergarments, which were frankly embarrassing to even look at and whose purpose was entirely mystifying to Lyon, who thought they looked more like torture devices than anything—and he wondered if women really needed that much clothing. "If they end up being too small, bring them back and I'll exchange them."

"Wouldn't it be better to just get the biggest ones to make sure they'll fit?" Lyon wondered aloud.

"You really know nothing about women, do you? Trust me, things will go over better if she doesn't think you're under the impression that she's the size of a whale."

Lyon would take her word for it. "Okay, okay, if you say so. How much do I owe you?"

"If you give me a kiss, you can have them for free," she said with a wink.

Lyon cleared his throat uncomfortably and shifted the heap of clothing to one arm so that he could dig through his pocket and snag some coins. He held them out.

"Here."

"I was joking." Sherry looked away, and Lyon felt bad. He knew that she only kept teasing and pushing because she was trying to prod him into finally making a move, and he didn't like to feel that he was leading her on. "Keep it."

Small, soft hands slid against Lyon's large, calloused ones and curled his fingers shut over the coins.

"But–"

"It's fine. Just bring me a fish next time you come into town. Maybe have dinner with us. Don't be a stranger, alright?"

"Yeah," Lyon said quietly. He slid the coins back into his pocket.

"Here, let me find you something for that." Sherry turned in a whirl of skirts and disappeared into the backroom again, emerging a minute later with a leather bag. She held it open while Lyon wrestled the clothing inside, and then gave him the handle. She wrapped her arms about her stomach and stepped back, staring down at the ground instead of at him. "Lyon, I know that you…"

Lyon braced himself, knowing she was working up the nerve to broach the subject. "…Yes?"

"Never mind." A sad smile tugged at her lips. "Drop by again soon, alright?"

"Of course. I owe you a fish, don't I?" Lyon hesitated and then stepped forward to press a chaste kiss to her forehead, breathing, "When I'm ready, you'll be the first to know."

Her cheeks were dusted red when he leaned back, and she ducked her head to hide her smile. "Okay. Good luck, Lyon."

"I'll see you soon."

Lyon beat a hasty retreat, resolving to address that can of worms once he finished things up with the selkie. Sherry had been very patient waiting on him and respecting his boundaries, and she deserved better than to be left waiting forever. She was ready to settle down and start a family, and Lyon would have to compromise sooner or later, even if he wasn't quite as ready as she was.

But he would have to fix up Juvia before worrying about Sherry, so he pushed the issue out of his mind with no little relief. Settling back down to business, he headed for the apothecary.

An old, rusted bell clanked discordantly as he pushed his way inside. The shop smelled musty and damp and was dimly lit, with rows of rickety wooden shelves bearing orderly groups of bottles filled with various liquids. Lyon ignored them and headed straight for the counter, knowing better than to look too closely lest he attract the healer's wrath.

"Porlyusica?" he called, leaning up against the counter and craning his neck to squint at the doorway to the backroom.

"I heard you come in," came the ornery reply. "Why do you think I have a bell? Be quiet and wait, or you might as well leave."

Lyon kept his mouth shut. Porlyusica's temperament had clearly not improved since he had seen her last. If anything, she had only become more crotchety and ill-tempered with age.

He was left waiting for longer than he felt was strictly necessary—perhaps as a warning or a lesson or out of simple tetchiness—before the elderly woman bustled out from the back and fixed him with a cold look.

"What do you want?" she asked without preamble.

"I wanted to ask your advice on how to treat a broken ankle. Do you–?"

"Do you have a broken ankle?"

"Uh…" He blinked at her, taken aback. "No?"

"Then why are you wasting my time?"

"Uh… Look, give me five minutes and I'll be out of your hair. How long does it take a broken ankle to heal?"

The wrinkles on her face deepened as she gave him the most scornful look of disbelief he'd seen in all his life. "That depends on how injured it is and how well it's treated, doesn't it? Up to six weeks, on average."

"Six weeks?" Lyon's heart sank. That was longer than he had been hoping for.

"Did I stutter? What else do you need, boy?"

He blew out a breath. "How should it be treated, and are there any of your fancy medicines that can help?"

"Keep ice on it until the swelling goes down, keep it elevated, and rest instead of walking around on it. And first, of course, you would come to me and let me look at it to make sure it's set properly. I'd wrap it and give you some painkillers and poultices to accelerate healing."

"Can I buy some of those poultices?"

Porlyusica's eyes narrowed. "You don't have a broken ankle?"

"…No."

"Does someone else have a broken ankle?"

"…No?"

"Are you planning to break an ankle in the near future?"

"No?"

Clearly, Lyon had not done a good job of planning this out beforehand. He wasn't sure why he wanted to be so secretive about the whole affair, but it would have probably been better to just admit there was an injured girl after all. He'd already told Sherry as much, and word would spread here sooner or later. But if he told Porlyusica that, she would demand to see Juvia. Lyon wasn't sure it was wise to hand a selkie over to the town.

Porlyusica's suspicious gaze raked across his face and seemed to burrow through his soul like knives, but he was saved by a loud crash and the sound of shattering glass from the backroom. The healer whipped around.

"What are you doing in there?" she barked. "Stop playing around. Wendy, clean up that mess and replace all of those potions now. Chelia, get out of here. This isn't a playground. Stop distracting Wendy from her work."

A small, pink-haired girl scurried out of the backroom and dashed around Porlyusica's fearsome figure. "Sorry!" Chelia wailed as she ran for the door. "See you later, Wendy! Hi, Lyon. Make sure you see Sherry while you're in town!"

She darted outside, the bell creaking after her, and Lyon shook his head. Sherry's younger cousin was great friends with Wendy, Porlyusica's apprentice. Those two were thick as thieves, and double the trouble when they were together. Wendy was a polite, mild-mannered girl on her own, but Chelia was bubbly and wild and brought out the mischief in her quieter friend. Lyon had a soft spot for the both of them.

"I'm so sorry," Wendy said from the back, her voice wavering. "It was an accident. I'll fix it right away."

"Forget it," Porlyusica grunted. "It's the Sabbath. Go play with Chelia, but let this be a warning: stop inviting her in here when you're supposed to be working. And when she comes sneaking in, you shoo her out or I will."

Wendy's head popped out from the backroom, eyes wide with surprise. "Really?"

"Hurry up before I change my mind," Porlyusica growled, flapping her hands to shoo her apprentice out.

Lyon hid a smile behind a cough. Porlyusica would rather die than admit it, but everyone knew she'd grown fond of her young apprentice even if she still couldn't stand the rest of the townsfolk.

Wendy hurried for the door, flashing Lyon a shy smile as she went. "Good morning."

"'Morning. Have fun, and try not to get into too much trouble."

She laughed and disappeared outside to enjoy her unexpected freedom. Meanwhile, Porlyusica stalked around the counter and browsed the rows of shelves, plucking bottles and jars from their dusty homes.

"Here." She handed Lyon a thick glass bottle filled with green-tinged liquid and a jar that leaked an herbal scent even though it was sealed. "I need to fix their mess. Take one tablespoon of the painkiller every six hours as needed, and spread the poultice over the injured area once a day to help stimulate healing."

Lyon could hardly believe his luck. "Thank you," he said, snatching them up and burying them safely in the bag of clothing. He gave her a handful of coins, which she accepted without counting.

She fixed him with a hard look. "If someone does have a broken ankle, bring them up here as soon as possible so that I can take a look at it and set it properly."

"Of course," Lyon mumbled, backing away from her piercing gaze. "Thanks."

He got out of there as fast as his feet would carry him. Porlyusica was tough as nails, and he would be in hot water if she decided to keep pushing the issue. It would take a braver man than Lyon to hold firm against the blistering onslaught she could produce.

He stopped in the street and spun in a slow circle, his eyes skimming over the wooden houses and stores. What should he do now? Go back to the selkie, undoubtedly, but he wouldn't mind avoiding that for a few minutes more. The sun shone high overhead now, but a long stretch of afternoon still waited before them. He would have time to figure out that problem in a bit.

While he was here, perhaps he should do some research. He knew the sanitized fairytale stories, but he found them severely lacking in usefulness now that myth had become reality.

Hefting the bag of clothing and potions higher on his arm, he headed for the pub. Many of the men would be taking advantage of their day off to lounge around the bar, although hopefully they wouldn't be drunk yet so early. They would be his best source of information.

He approached the long, low building with something not dissimilar to the grim determination of a man going to war. Pushing the door open, he swept his eyes across the assembled townsmen.

Old Makarov, the pub's owner, was asleep in a chair behind the bar, which was his new favorite place since deciding that the prerogatives of the elderly should include frequent naps during the workday. The general consensus in town was that he ought to just hand the pub over to his grandson already, but he was harmless enough and well-respected, so they let him do whatever he wanted without comment. Mira, the barmaid, was plenty capable of running the place while he was asleep.

Cana sat slumped over the counter with a collection of empty tankards beside her. It was never too early for her to drink herself into a stupor. Yuka, Jura, and Gajeel sat around the large wooden table nearby, and Lyon didn't doubt they would be joined by others later once their wives let them go for the day. Lyon elected to join this latter group, and dropped onto the rickety bench beside Yuka. It groaned and wobbled under his weight, and he gave it a skeptical look as he dropped the bag to the floor.

"You ought to look into fixing this place up, Jura," he told the carpenter.

"If your boats weren't all constantly falling apart, I would have the time," the broad-shouldered man said mildly. He took a sip of his ale and returned to eating his lunch.

"Look who finally decided to come into town!" Yuka said, clapping Lyon on the back. "Have you talked to Sherry?"

"I talked to her already," Lyon grunted.

"Poor woman's been waiting on you forever," Gajeel said with a snicker. "At this rate, Natsu and Lucy are gonna get hitched before you even ask her out."

"None of your business."

"Lyon!" Mira slid out from behind the bar and swept over, blue eyes sparkling warmly. "It's been a while since we've seen you in here. Would you like something to drink? Eat?"

"Sure to both. Just give me whatever you've got."

"Coming right up!"

"But seriously," Yuka said as Mira hurried off again, "it's like I never see you anymore."

Lyon leveled him with an unimpressed look. "I see you nearly every day. We work on the same boat…"

Yuka slammed his glass down on the table. "Speaking of which, Lamia Scale has another hole in the bow. Jura is going to fix it up in the morning, so show up early so we can get it taken care of before heading out."

"…You have got to be kidding me."

"Like I was saying," Jura said dryly.

Gajeel cackled like a fool. "No wonder my team's always beating you. Your boat's always falling apart and your crew doesn't want to work."

"They're working fine," Yuka muttered.

Lyon looked between him and Gajeel. "Toby caught the Sabbath sickness again?"

"Funny how he always gets sick right before it's time to go back to work," Gajeel said with a sly smile. "One might think he was only tryna get out of the Monday blues. Anyway, you shoulda scrapped that heap of junk you call a boat a long time ago. It's more patch than boat at this point."

Lyon sighed and rubbed at his temples. He wasn't looking forward to having to replace the boat, which always proved to be an expensive venture, and continually patching it up wasn't much better. And it looked like the weekly chore of convincing Toby he wasn't too sick to work after the Sabbath was not going away any time soon.

Mira slid a plate and tankard in front of him and gave him a smile, and he thanked her as she returned to the bar. Although he was hungry, Lyon took only a casual bite as he decided to quell Yuka and Gajeel's argument by getting down to business.

"Have you ever heard of a mute selkie?" he asked.

The men around the table stopped bickering and stared at him.

"Since when have you cared about selkies?" Yuka wondered aloud.

"Just curious," he muttered defensively.

"Sure you're not mixing them up with mermaids?" Gajeel asked, turning his nose up. "Maybe 'cause you've always thought you were too good for the likes of the stories."

"Never heard of a mute selkie," Yuka added with a shrug. "I mean, there are those mermaid stories, but they're only stories. You know, when the mermaid gives up her voice in exchange for legs and usually has some kind of curse unless she gets the guy to fall in love with her. Heard a few variations of that, but I've never seen a mermaid."

"Cursed…?" Lyon mused, half to himself. "Do you think a selkie could be cursed?"

"How should I know? I don't believe in curses."

"Why you so curious all of a sudden?" Gajeel asked suspiciously. He grinned. "Didya finally catch yourself a selkie?"

Lyon turned red and backtracked. "Don't be silly. I was just curious."

"You ain't been curious before," Gajeel teased. "And you're asking strange things."

Lyon opened his mouth to further protest his innocence, but found himself interrupted.

"You'd do well not to mess with selkies," Cana slurred. She had propped herself up and was watching the men now, eyes hooded. "You give your selkie girl her skin back and send her back out to sea. Ain't nothing come from selkies but broken hearts, and you're fixing to get yours broke."

"There's no selkie," Lyon muttered, looking away.

"Oh, you still alive over there, Cana?" Gajeel asked. "Here I thought you'd drunk yourself to death years ago."

"Still alive and kicking," she said shortly.

"Dunno what makes you such an expert. One-night stand and suddenly you're a genius."

"Who says I only seen him once?"

Lyon stared at her, and the men around him stopped moving all at once. Cana's eyes, usually so clouded with drink, shone hard and cold now as she glowered at Gajeel. She was starting to get worked up, and worked up enough to talk about what usually kept her mouth sealed shut. Gajeel was a bit abrasive at the best of times and even more so with a drink or two inside him, and he was getting under her skin now.

"Ain't no one seen a selkie again once they return to the sea," Gajeel scoffed.

Cana snorted. "What would you know? You ain't never seen nothing but seals on the beach. You'd learn more from Natsu, at that rate. He's got the right idea. Sometimes they come back. I've met mine a handful of times since."

Gajeel remained skeptical. "If you seen him again, why you ain't taken his skin?"

"'Cause I'm not as cruel as the rest of you woulda been," she snapped. "Selkies, their heart's with the sea. Even if they love you, they ain't never gonna be happy without it. They're not your playthings. They're wild as the ocean and like to be just as free. It ain't right to tie them down. Mark my words, Lyon, that selkie of yours ain't gonna bring nothing but trouble if you don't let her go."

This was a side to the story that Lyon had never heard. Maybe because the townsfolk told their stories but not their lives. It was one thing to say you'd loved and lost a selkie, and another thing entirely to dive into the details. He looked at Cana with new eyes.

"She's right," Jura said tightly, his brows drawn together. "Selkies can love, but they won't be happy if you keep them from the sea. They might seem happy enough, might even be happy with you, but the sea always calls them back and they aren't at home on land. Eventually it'll start breaking your heart to watch her pine when she thinks you aren't looking, and it'll break the rest of the way when you decide that you love her enough to let her go."

Lyon started. "Did you let yours go? I thought she found her skin and ran off?"

Jura shrugged and poked at his food moodily. Here, then, was another story that had too many layers hidden beneath the surface.

"If Cana's selkie comes back, why don't yours, then?" Gajeel asked, unconvinced.

"Cana's was still wild," Jura said. "Once you've taken their skin, they're gone the second they make it back to sea. It doesn't matter if you gave it back to them or they found it themselves. I don't know why that is, if it's part of the rules or the magic or what. No matter how much she loves you and you love her, she's not coming back for visits if you ever took her skin first."

Lyon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rolling his shoulders in a covert attempt to ease the itch of his suppressed conscience between his shoulder blades. He had already taken Juvia's skin, although he was convinced he had good reason for it.

"So they're all doomed loves from the beginning?" Yuka wondered.

Lyon smiled wryly. "That much should be obvious even from the sanitized stories."

"I always thought they were kind of romantic."

"That's because you're a closet romantic with a soft spot for bittersweet endings."

Jura shook his head and went back to poking at his food. "Be careful, Lyon. If you found a selkie, take care what you do with her."

"There's no selkie," Lyon said firmly, the lie sticking in his throat. "Anyway, how bad is this hole, Yuka? That's the third one in the past four months."

Cana turned back to her drink with one last shake of her head and Jura stayed quiet, but the rest of them smoothed over the awkwardness with a subject change. Lyon played along, but ate his meal as quickly as possible before heading for the counter to pay Mira.

"I don't suppose I've gotten any mail?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone of voice. She had become the town's unofficial postmaster, distributing the mail that came in along with the gossip drunks whispered to their drinks.

Mira smiled knowingly. "There's nothing from Gray, but he just wrote a couple weeks ago, right?"

Lyon flushed. "I don't…"

"Why don't you just ask him to come down and visit?" Yuka called.

He sighed and deflated. "I have. He says it's probably better that we don't meet in person again for now, and I don't want to push it in case he decides to stop writing letters too."

"Well," Gajeel said, "I guess you shouldn't have been such a– Ow!"

Lyon was grateful for Yuka's intervention. He wasn't in the mood to hear Gajeel's blunt commentary on the past today. Sighing, he turned away and headed for the door.

"See you in the morning, Yuka."

"I'll let you know as soon as I get something from Gray!" Mira called after him.

"Thanks."

Shoving his disappointment down into a hard ball in the pit of his stomach with all the rest of it, Lyon escaped from town and hightailed it back to his place. Time to refocus and deal with the whole selkie problem.

But when he opened the door and peered inside, the selkie was gone.

Note: In all honesty, I just had such a fun time finding roles for everyone and watching them savage poor Lyon lol