A/N: Rewrites? 3.5. Patience with this chapter? Gone. Upload streak? Broken.

Hotel? Trivago.

I have written over 4000 words in total for this chapter. This final version is about half of that. IDK why I had such a hard time with it, but this is as good as it's going to get at this point.

I need opinions on the perspective switch in this one, it wasn't part of the original plan and its not a character I've spent much too time with in this story. Also, the characterization stuff. Yeah.

Thank you to Muttlpe Mike and Kitkatkatester for once again reviewing the last chapter. :)

Enjoy!

The ability to walk without too much difficulty or pain was a luxury Mike had nearly forgotten existed, at least for him. Sure, he still had a limp, but he didn't really notice it half the time. He was too busy focusing on his work while keeping his physical state of being in mind, not something he used to do; he made sure to stand himself up straighter between small breaks from cleaning the floor, always checked to keep his worse leg from locking up out of nowhere as it had at the beginning, and watched the progression of the scars on his face and hands fade more and more.

His hair was starting to get longer than it already had been, and he'd tried pushing it back with his usual bandana, but it didn't always work out and either flopped over onto his face or stuck up in odd places, as if it couldn't decide how it wanted to look. He hadn't cut it in...it had to have been over a year by now. He'd considered asking Noah about getting it cut in town some time before recognizing the fact that he'd most likely answer no.

As a counter to this, he did a search around the house and found an old, thin piece of fabric that was stuck in a corner. After giving it a good dusting, he found worked surprisingly well as a sort of hair tie for the majority of his hair. It wouldn't win any awards for beauty, sure, but it got the job done. Whatever it didn't keep back he was able to combat with the aforementioned bandana, at least when he was doing housework.

That was more often than not, as had been the case before, and there were times that Mike almost wished for his leg to act up again, just so he would be able to rest for longer than a few hours each night.

The time he did spend outside the house continued to be under the semi-watchful eyes of Scott or the less-watchful gaze of Vito, the latter of whom would often spend more time failing at speaking to women in town than caring if Mike went out of sight for a few minutes. At this point, the two of them had reached a greater, silent understanding with one another that Mike wasn't going to run off, and Vito wouldn't say a word when he happened to stumble across someone he knew, and the arrangement was working out thus far in Mike's favor.

Scott was less forgiving in that regard, but also couldn't care less about errands getting done, so any trip with him was filled with tense silence and the occasional beratement, but nothing overtly physical. He'd insist on holding the money while refusing to give it to Mike, who actually knew what they were supposed to get, and spend it on things that seemed of little use beyond the occasional small blade or a snack.

Mike always felt infinitely more anxious around him; he couldn't exactly rat Scott out for his spending habits to Noah, because his opinion didn't matter. He would point fingers at Mike, and Mike would get the punishment for not doing as asked. Usually involving a lack of food, or extra work to do, maybe both if Noah was feeling generous.

On one unfortunately timed trip, Scott hadn't had the greatest of mornings, so being told he had to go out into town again with Multiple Mike just gave him an excuse to take out his frustration on the servant. He'd been looking a little too hopeful recently; Scott could've sworn he heard him talking to Vito about something the other day. He didn't understand why his brother acted nice to Mike, but that was a confrontation for another time.

He would make sure to give Mike an extra hard time, starting by making him wait for an obnoxious number of minutes at the door, earning the scolding of Noah to 'hurry on up already'. He watched him sigh under his breath before adjusting that stupid ponytail he'd been wearing his hair in recently. It didn't even keep it all back, what was the point? Scott's naturally red hair was nice and short, if a bit prickly at times. Maybe if he grew it out it would soften up a little, but he wasn't planning on doing that...he wasn't soft. Mike had his all long and messy, and somehow it was spiky and wavy at once?

After stewing in his thoughts a bit longer for no good reason, Scott waltzed on over to the door, sparing only the meanest of glances at Mike before exiting out the open entryway. Mike followed behind, carrying one of those dumb baskets he always brought to hold the bought stuff in...at least, when he was able to come home with things. Scott smirked to himself, deciding today was one of those days he'd really ruin it for Mike; he was still having too good a time of it, and that needed to change.

Like usual, they made it to town without much fanfare. Mike walked a couple of steps behind Scott, mainly due to his limp. "You got a rock in your shoe or somethin'? Hurry up!" Scott demanded with a frown when they were about to enter town. Oh, he knew that Mike couldn't help his leg acting as it did, but it was fun seeing his reaction to the order.

Mike looked at him in an odd way; Scott couldn't always read his expressions, and this was one of those times. "Sorry…" he apologized without actually changing anything about his speed.

Scott scoffed and kept moving. "So where's the money?" he asked after they'd entered the town square. It was a market day; there were more people than usual around.

Mike hesitated as he pulled the small bag that Noah always handed off the money in out of the basket. Scott grinned schemingly as he snatched it from Mike, causing him to flinch a little, and shook it a little bit. "This shouldn't take too long…" he said more to himself than Mike. He could hear Mike steadying his breath, 'cause for whatever reason he got all worked up at the slightest things...what a weakling.

The two of them navigated through the marketplace that was set up. Mike mostly let his eyes wander around at all the things he knew they were supposed to buy, but couldn't bring himself to ask for some of the money back.

Scott, on the other hand, was eager to make a quick run to one of the stands he always frequented when it came around every odd month, forgetting about Mike for a minute as he pushed through the crowd towards his intended destination.

When he reached the booth, he scoured the display for anything interesting, sending a small nod to the guy who ran it, Tyler, who was not one to notice when someone swiped some of his goods from under his nose since he was too busy organizing himself while also knocking stuff over. Since his wares were so varied, it was hard to keep track of it all.

Another guy approached the booth and stood next to Scott, beginning to conversate with Tyler. "I think you'll like this belt I got when I went down south, Manitoba," Tyler said with some excitement, rifling through a bag filled with stuff.

"It better not be anotha knock-off, mate," the guy with the weird name warned with a half-joking tone. "I got too good eyes for ya to stiff me again."

Scott looked at him, feeling weirdly short as he saw how much taller Manitoba was to him, maybe even taller than Mike was on a good day. The guy looked tough, but not super intimidating. He wore a stupid-looking hat and clearly spent too long in the sun with that tanned skin of his. Hmph...weirdo.

"I wouldn't do that to you again! Not on purpose, anyway…" Tyler insisted while pulling out the belt. It looked nice and sturdy, with some adornments here and there that made it appear more ornate than the average belt.

"Hand it ovah 'ere," Manitoba requested. Tyler obliged, passing it over the table that separated customers from the seller.

Scott found he liked how that belt looked. It would probably fit him better than this Manitoba guy, who was examining the belt like it was some sort of artifact.

"How much for that?" he asked Tyler, pointing to the belt.

"Oh, I'll have to think about it...how much do you have?" Tyler questioned, always up for a good haggle.

"Whatever's in here," Scott said, holding up the little bag he'd swiped from Mike.

"Hold up a second, I think I like this for myself," Manitoba interjected, giving the belt a slight tug. "Feels like a real good find ta me."

"Well I don't care if you think it's a find, I want it," Scott persisted, crossing his arms and turning his body towards Mani. "I'm willing to bet I've got more to pay with than you do, since you clearly don't spend much on keeping up your appearance."

Manitoba frowned, then handed the belt back to Tyler for the moment before also turning to face Scott. "Ya tryna start somethin', dingo? 'Cause I got places ta be." He placed a hand on his hip, where there was a length of rope coiled up and strapped to his worn-out looking belt.

"I just want to buy a belt, is that too much to ask?" Scott wondered aloud.

The two stared at each other. Scott narrowed his eyes; Manitoba's gaze was strong and steadfast, he would only admit to himself, but he stood his ground. Scott's hand gravitated towards his pocket, inside of which he had a small covered blade.

"Aw,c'mon, you guys...there's no need to fight over a belt!" Tyler interrupted the silence, hoping to prevent one of the two from possibly hurting the other.

"Well...I don' much care for bein' insulted by this lil' bludger 'ere, and I ain't givin' him what 'e's hopin' for," Manitoba remarked, glancing at Tyler. "I'll come back later, Tyler, mate. Got stuff ta buy." He started to walk off, stealing one last unsavory glance at Scott.

Scott snickered, looking back at Tyler. "Sometimes it's too easy…" he said louder than he'd intended.

Very quickly he felt something tie around his ankle, tripping him and making him fall to the ground with a thud before it just as quickly retracted. "Ow! My arm!" Scott had hit his arm on the cobbled ground, bruising it. Making a sound resembling a grr, he scrambled up and shot his focus towards where Manitoba had walked off in. "You'll pay for this!" he declared.

Passerby watched him pick himself up before he realized something:

The little money bag was gone.

Long author's end note, yaaaay...

For some reason the concept of Tyler being a traveling merchant is my new favorite thing. Thinking about writing up a short little backstory for him, might put it in my profile... anyone interested in that?

Please please PLEASE take a moment to review this chapter if you want to. It was such a mess to write, I wonder if it's actually any good.

I'm back in(virtual) school so don't expect the weekly uploads again unless I get really inspired and have time to write.

Stay safe out there, and I'll see ya next time. :)