Chapter Eighty Two
...
Jetstream forced herself to come to an abrupt stop, her reflection far too close in the building's windows. She could practically feel the citizens inside, staring and whispering to each other. She smiled brightly, turned, and flew back down to the fight. The villain, Forcefield, was strong and she wondered for the first time in a long time whether she and Steve would be able to win.
Forcefield kept the Commander pinned to the ground, their power increasing the gravity around him, the invisible barrier pushing down on him until it crushed him slowly. Forcefield had almost kept Jetstream down too, but she'd managed to fly out before the gravity became too heavy for her to resist. Forcefield didn't have exact precision over their power and they couldn't make the entire street heavy with gravity either, as that was too advanced for the amount of power they had right then.
Shit, maybe they weren't ready for this. But Hourglass had said... Well, the seer hadn't technically said that Forcefield should go for it, but it was close enough.
"Stop now! You won't win!" Jetstream called out.
Forcefield grit their teeth at her mocking words. Jetstream had her back to the camera, so no one would see her expression, but Forcefield did. Increasing the gravity pushing down on the Commander, Forcefield threw out a hand to focus on Jetstream. Their anger alone would increase their power, Forcefield was sure of it.
As they suspected, the burst of anger made their power slightly stronger, and Jetstream was pushed down by a disc of increased gravity. The air around Jetstream was too heavy for her withstand for long, her body slowly being forced down towards the ground. Unlike before, where the gravity had been a thin amount to try to pin her down, Forcefield's anger had increased the width of pressure so she wouldn't be able to fly out and escape this time.
"Kuso. Papa, come look at this! Forcefield might actually beat the Commander and Jetstream!" Ry called out, his eyes wide. (Shit.)
"I'll be right there," Connor called from his bedroom.
Closing his laptop lid on the ex-Mrs. Harland, Connor had to breathe several times to contain his anger. After Victor's comment about seeing her on the news, he'd been curious as to what had happened. He'd resisted his curiosity for days, but today he'd finally succumbed.
God, the things she'd said about supers in general were bad enough, but the things she'd said about Craig made him want to punch something. He and Ry had both discovered at the pot luck that Elijah and Elliot were both supers as well. Connor felt sick at the thought of those two wonderful babies being raised by such an awful woman. Craig had had to live with her and those comments for his whole life. How on earth was he such a well-adjusted person after dealing with all of that shit for so long?! Rubbing his hand over his face and sighing heavily, Connor headed out to the lounge area where Ry was watching the TV, enraptured by the fight.
Connor looked from his son to the TV, blinking in surprise when he saw that both Jetstream and the Commander were grounded and screaming in pain. "What did I miss?" he asked, sitting by his son.
"Forcefield controls gravity," Ry said. "They took down the Commander first then Jetstream."
"Interesting strategy. What would you do with Forcefield's power?"
"Both at the same time. The Commander's a charging bull, but he's good at it; Jetstream can be sneaky, and if she got hold of Forcefield, the flight could disrupt Forcefield's concentration and free the Commander. It was a risky strategy," Ry added, shaking his head. "What about you, Papa?"
Connor took a moment to think of his own strategy, watching the screen. One of the cameras zoomed in on Jetstream, who was going for something on her utility belt; probably one of those new high-pitched noise pods. She was moving slowly, whether due to the increased gravity or so she didn't draw Forcefield's attention, Connor wasn't entirely sure.
"Noise pod," Ry said. "Could be enough to disrupt the gravitational field; depends how strong Forcefield is," he added.
"That's what I thought. I'd take down Jetstream first. The Commander would try to catch her, and I could take him down while he was distracted."
"Ooh, using the family as a distraction? Evil, Papa," Ry snickered.
"Evil but effective."
Ry conceded with a nod. "We're still going to the dojo, yeah?"
"Ready when you are," Connor confirmed.
"Great. Ready," Ry said, turning off the TV.
"You don't want to see the fight?"
Ry shook his head. "Nah. Jetstream will use the noise pod, Forcefield will fall on their ass, the Commander will be freed, and the fight'll be over," he said, shrugging.
"All right. Grab your things then," Connor said, gently pushing Ry off the lounge and towards his room. He glanced over at the fridge, wondering if they needed anything else at the shops.
"We don't need anything, Papa. We've been to the grocery store every day this week. Just text Victor, would you?" Ry said over his shoulder.
Connor winced and wondered if his son was psychic or if he was just that ridiculous. Looking to his phone where he'd started and deleted what felt like a hundred different texts to Victor, Connor concluded he was just that ridiculous.
...
"Steve, the open house is starting," Josie hissed, this close to dragging him away from his interview.
"I don't see what the problem is, dear. We have more than enough money to miss an open house or two. My father left everything to me, remember?" Steve pointed out, covering the microphone and glancing out to the journalists who didn't look happy at the delay.
Of course, that wasn't stopping them from speculating and writing what they thought was an argument between the two beloved superheroes.
Josie's jaw clenched. They could live for another hundred years and still be well off, and still have more to leave to Will and their future generations. The fact that the money came from Captain Stronghold made the reminder sting; the man had never liked her, not until Will had been born. "That's not the point, dear."
"Of course, dear. I'll just finish my interview. Two more minutes," the Commander called to the journalists with a broad and charming smile.
"Are you and Jetstream fighting, Commander?" one journalist called out.
"Only over who's cooking dinner," Jetstream said, with a bright smile and light laugh.
The reporters' laughter eased the tension in the room, and they continued with their two minutes of questions for the Commander.
Jetstream flew off two and a half minutes later when it seemed the reporters weren't finished asking the Commander their questions. She was late and she could pick Steve up on the way home. It would serve him right to wait anyway.
...
"Josie, what a surprise to see you here," Trixie said with a smile that was as fake as her... teeth.
"It's my open house, Trixie; what are you doing here?" Josie asked between clenched teeth, smiling just as insincerely as her competition.
The house was Georgian, with six bedrooms, three baths, an ensuite, lock-up double garage, and worth more than six-hundred thousand. It was also Josie's, as she'd been the one to convince the Barrs' to sell.
"It seems that Mr. and Mrs. Barr aren't convinced you want to sell their house, Josie. You're late to their open houses, haven't contacted them about the market or potential buyers, and they're not impressed. I offered to take on their house for a smaller fee and higher sell price. You should have received an email from Mr. and Mrs. Barr this morning stating that they no longer required your services."
Josie's eyes widened. "You can't take another house from under me, Trixie! The Realtor Handbook - "
"I can if the clients decide to leave you for someone else. I didn't force their hand, Josie. But it's okay, you're being the best super you can be," Trixie said condescendingly.
Even after almost having her body crushed by gravity, somehow Trixie's words hurt Josie more.
A couple walked in, eyes wide at the tension in the air. "Uh, we're here for the open house?"
Trixie smiled brightly and turned to the couple. "Of course! Come right this way," she said, leading them away without looking back.
Josie cursed under her breath, then flew back to 100th Street to pick up her husband.
...
"I can't believe you didn't tell me that there was going to be a fight! Forcefield stepped over 100th Street, like, six times! I could've had him!"
"Them," Steve corrected Will, who frowned in confusion.
"I did tell you, Will," Josie said, her hands on her hips and thoroughly annoyed.
She'd almost lost to Forcefield, her everything still ached, then there was the sting of Trixie's comments and how she'd stolen the Barrs' Georgian from her, and now Will was accusing her of not telling her something when she had definitely told him!
"Maybe you forgot? You've been spending a lot of time with Magenta lately, Will. I know how distracting... love can be," Josie said, turning to the stove so Will wouldn't see her eye roll.
Will opened and closed his mouth a few times, his eyebrows furrowed. Had she really told him about the fight? Had he really forgotten about it?
"I thought you liked Magenta?" he asked, trying not to sound petulant.
Josie smiled as she stirred the spaghetti. Men were so easy to distract.
...
Hey Victor. Want to go out with me sometime?
"No," Connor muttered, deleting the words and frowning as he attempted another message.
Hey Victor. Want to go out for coffee? Or dinner? Or anything anywhere at anytime?
"Hell no. Why the hell is this so hard?"
"Whoa, I came in at the wrong part of this conversation... That you're having with yourself? Do you need me to call Doc?" Ry asked, frowning.
Connor finished deleting the unsent message and shook his head. "I don't need to talk to Doc, Ry. I'm just... Well, I'm trying to send a text to Victor, but I've got no idea what to say."
Ry snorted. "You're so gone on this guy, Papa. Give me your phone, I'll send the message."
Connor narrowed his eyes at his son and held his phone tighter. "What are you going to write?"
Ry grinned, tugged the phone out of his hand, typed a message in five seconds flat, and then handed the phone back to him.
Hey Victor. Ry wants to visit the twins, and I'd like to see you again. Do you mind if we come over this weekend?
"That could actually work. Thanks, son," Connor said, sending the message.
Ry grinned. "Anytime, Papa. Now, I've set up the mats in the living room and moved the TV out of the way. You want to practice with me or are you planning on spending the rest of the night in here watching your phone?"
Connor forced himself to set the phone aside. "All right, that's enough cheek from you, son."
Ry poked his tongue out and ran from the room laughing. Connor shook his head and with a quick glance to his phone, he followed his son to the living room.
...
"Hey, hippie. How was your day?" Warren asked.
"Exhausting. The Mayor's arguing with the Mayor of Westville about Airborne fighting there. Airborne's technically considered the property of Maxville due to his ties to Jetstream and the Commander, and he lives here not in Westville. It's a political minefield; it's worse since he hasn't fought a villain yet," Layla said, running a hand through her hair and sighing.
"How would him fighting a villain make things any better?" Warren asked, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder as he kept cooking dinner.
"It's in his contractual obligation; he'll be able to straddle the border easier or something like that," Layla murmured, yawning widely.
"What happens if he doesn't?" Warren asked.
"Hmm?"
"What if Will doesn't fight anyone?"
Layla frowned. "I don't know. It probably means more arguments between the two Mayors. Lots of tension, definitely."
"Think you can handle it?" Warren asked teasingly.
"Of course, they're citizens. Their idea of tension is nothing compared to ours," Layla said, rolling her eyes. "Oh, I heard a tidbit about the Super Bureau from the Mayor. They met with Jetstream about the anti-super group. She was apparently pissed, but the Mayor was upset that they went with her idea instead of his."
"What was her idea?"
Layla huffed in annoyance. "No idea, he got a call from one of his mistresses and practically threw me out the door."
"He did what?" Warren growled, the flames on the gas-fuelled stove flaring up.
Layla couldn't help but smile at Warren's protective growl. "Don't worry, he didn't put a hand on me," she promised. "He wouldn't have a hand if he tried that," she added, her voice sweet and poisonous.
"Good."
"How was your night?" Layla asked, realising that she hadn't asked and poor Warren had had a double shift, and probably been standing for the last twelve hours straight.
"It sucked. Mrs. Woo kept asking about you every five minutes, and Kim was a total hard ass because I burnt one guy's meal."
"Why'd you burn his meal?"
"'Cause I couldn't burn him. He was a dickhead and he made Mei Ling cry."
"Super Jesus, what did he say to her?"
"Some racist crap about how she should go back to her country and how she was stealing jobs, shit like that. Mei Ling was born in fucking Connecticut," Warren said, rolling his eyes.
"Did you get a seed in his car?" Layla asked curiously.
"Yep. I conveniently had my break after he paid for his meal."
Layla laughed. "I love you, Warren."
"Love you too, hippie."
"You're still coming to the Hive tomorrow after the language class, right?"
"Yeah, I've let Mrs. Woo know I'm not available, even if everyone calls in sick," Warren said with a grin. He paused and lowered his voice. "What're you wearing?"
Layla laughed again and hung up on him.
"Super Jesus, if you were any cuter, I'd probably puke," Adam said, rolling his eyes.
"I know, right? It's just so sappy," Nina said, snickering from the doorway.
"I can and will burn your dinners," Warren deadpanned.
"Nah, man, you won't do that?"
"And why's that?"
"'Cause you love us," Adam said, grinning.
Nina laughed and sat at the bench next to Adam. "He's right, kid. Now, what'd you make for dinner? I'm starving."
"You could've eaten earlier," Warren pointed out, though he felt a little guilty that they'd both waited to eat dinner with him.
"We wanted to wait. Besides, neither of us can cook," Adam said with a shrug.
"I can cook, thank you very much. Tell Adam about that meal I made for you that time," Nina said.
Warren rolled his eyes and served up three bowls, serving two to Adam and his mother. "You mean the roast chicken we had to get from the store because yours came out so burnt we couldn't even scrape it off the pan?"
Adam laughed when Nina scowled at Warren.
"See who gets chocolate on my next grocery run."
Warren grinned and sat down to eat. "Love you too, Mum."
...
He parked his car in the garage, muttering about how he should've called the health inspector on that fucking awful restaurant. He'd finally got a replacement for the burnt crap he'd been served, which he knew was that waitress' fault. He was going to call the restaurant in the morning and make a complaint against her; see how long she had her job then. Fucking bitch.
Heading into his house, he sniffed and frowned at the scent of acrid smoke.
Had those fuckers burnt his food for a second time? Fuck, he knew he should've checked before he'd left! Hell, they'd probably just scraped that pile of shit into a container and handed it over with a smile and fake-as-tits apology.
Opening the bag, he wrenched open the two containers, blinking and his anger deflating when he saw perfectly-cooked rice and beef.
Why the fuck could he smell smoke then?
Looking around the house and through the windows, in case one of his neighbours was having a cookout, he didn't see a thing. Not a hint of smoke or flames, but he could smell it.
People smelled smoke when they were having a stroke, didn't they?
There was no arm tingling or numbness on either side of his body, though.
He'd smelled the smoke when he came in from the garage; maybe something in there was on fire? The thought had his eyes widening in fear as he ran to save his precious car. Swinging the internal door open, his mouth dropped to an O of horror.
His car was on fire, a steady blue flame without a wisp of smoke in sight. He had the odd thought that it wasn't like the movies. In movies, cars went up in a bright burst of orange flames and they were on fire all over. This fire seemed to be contained just to the trunk of his car, as though... as though it was waiting.
He whimpered and rushed to the laundry basin, shoved a bucket in the sink and turned the taps as fast as he could, hoping to put out the flames.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he could put them out now? A paint job and his precious car would look as good as new.
...
"Good evening. This is Tasha from Westville's Evening News. Maxville and Westville fire crews have spent the better part of this evening extinguishing the fire that destroyed the house of Mr. Hamm, a 45-year-old Westville resident. It seems his car caught fire and the accelerants in the garage set the rest of the house ablaze. The internal door was locked and his garage door couldn't open due to the fallen debris. As such, Mr. Hamm was caught in the blaze and died on site after he was trapped in the garage with his car. It's a sad night for this street," Tasha said solemnly. "I have one of his neighbours here with me. Were you friends with Mr. Hamm?"
The woman snorted. "No fucking way. He was an asshole."
Tasha's eyes widened and she hurried to think of something else to say to salvage this fuckup of an interview. "Uh... You called the fire department?"
"Yeah, 'cause I didn't want my house going up in flames. That fucking bastard probably set the fire himself just to lower the rest of the street's worth on his way down to Hell," she said, spitting on the deceased man's driveway.
"Thank you for your time. Back to the studio," Tasha said quickly, indicating to her cameraman to stop recording.
Roger lowered the camera and tried not to laugh. It was clear that Mr. Hamm wasn't exactly a beloved neighbour; this was the fourth resident who seemed pleased the guy was dead. He wondered if he should have a street party sometime soon. Being hated by your neighbours wasn't a great way to go out.
"I'll just wait around a bit more. One of the firefighters might have something else to say."
"Doubt it, Tash. Sure you're not just waiting for Airborne to show up?" he teased, grinning.
Tasha glowered, her cheeks red. "Oh, shut up. Let's go; I'm beat," she said with a tired sigh.
"Hey, why don't you come over on the weekend? The kids'd love to see you, and the missus keeps saying how thin you're looking," Roger said.
"She noticed? That means the gym membership is finally paying off. I'll think about it, okay?" Tasha added gently.
Which they both knew meant 'thanks, but no thanks'. Roger sighed and nodded reluctantly. "All right, Tash. Let me know if you change your mind."
Tash nodded distractedly, glancing up to the sky as a plane flew overhead. She wasn't disappointed; she was just checking the weather, anyway.
...
"Think we'll get lucky and he'll be loaded like Mr. Phillips?" Layla asked, smiling as Warren kissed her neck.
"Doubtful, hippie. What do you say we close early?" he murmured, his fingers slipping under her shirt.
"I think I can be persuaded," she replied with a smile.
They pulled apart as the Hive's front door opened and three customers walked in. Layla gave Warren an apologetic smile, and he knew she'd be busy with them for a while yet.
"I'll check on the bees. We might have enough honey to restock," Warren said.
"Thank you," Layla said, kissing him briefly before turning her attention to the customers.
Warren headed to the kitchen with its new door, locking it behind him in case someone tried to follow him again.
"You guys need more space. If I did even the most basic tai chi set, I'd probably injure myself," Ry said, frowning.
"We've got Eden," Warren replied pointedly, taking his beekeeping suit from the hook behind the dining table and tugging it on over his clothes.
"Yeah, I guess. Still, indoor space is good too, y'know?"
Warren shrugged. He and Layla still weren't a hundred percent certain on Ry and didn't want him in the lower Hive just yet. Their vines had responded to him with curiosity rather than confirmation of being permanent, so they were waiting for now.
"Want to see the bees?" he offered, hoping to distract Ry.
"Can I?" Ry asked, looking surprised.
"Sure. You'll have to wear Layla's suit; we don't have a spare."
"Cool by me."
Craig came into the kitchen, looking annoyed. "Adam kicked me out."
"Did you eat his pudding?" Warren asked.
"He's got a whole mini fridge of pudding, dude. I just wanted one," Craig muttered.
Warren rolled his eyes. "Adam told you not to touch his puddings. C'mon, we're going out to see the bees. You can help with the frames."
"Oh, cool," Craig said, opening a cupboard in the kitchen and taking out a long tray that had traces of wax and honey on it.
"Don't you need a suit?" Ry asked, frowning and halfway into Layla's suit.
"Nah, dude. I'll just jewel up," he said with a wink, his skin taking on a shiny quality. "'Sides, Warren's awesome with the bees and they've never stung anyone yet."
Ry considered that as he pulled on the rest of the suit, along with the hat and gloves. "Does he talk to them or something?"
"Probably, but he's not a zoolingualist. You'll see when we're out there," Craig said, nodding for Ry to follow Warren outside.
Curious, but feeling safe with the suit, Ry moved his bulky frame through the back door and into Eden.
"How do you think their date's going?" Craig asked with a grin.
Ry didn't have to ask who he was talking about: he'd turned up with his father for his now-usual weekly visit to the twins, only to find Edith on her way out with Elijah and Elliot in their stroller, and Craig on her heels to go to the Hive. Craig had invited Ry along, meaning that Victor and Connor would be left alone. Ry wasn't going to let his Papa miss out on that opportunity, especially when it was practically served up on a silver platter.
"I hope they're doing something fun. Papa doesn't have enough fun," Ry added, shrugging in the suit when Craig looked to him.
"Yeah, Victor doesn't either, nowadays. It's either work or the twins. As much as I love my nephews, they can be a handful, especially now that they're powering up," Craig added. "Just, fair warning: my sister totally screwed Victor over, so he might not be in the best headspace for dating and stuff, okay? I mean, he's crazy interested in your dad, but... don't let him give up if some bad shit happens, okay?"
Ry nodded awkwardly in the large suit and hat. "Don't worry. Papa's good at fighting for what he wants, and he totally wants Victor," he added with a laugh.
Craig sighed in relief. "Good. That's really good to hear. C'mon, Warren's doing his thing," he said, leading Ry the last few metres to the hives.
Ry stared incredulously at the sight of Warren's hand on fire. A pine-scented smoke wafted around the hives carefully, almost looking natural if not for Warren's intent concentration.
"This is nothing, dude. Wait 'til Warren gets pissed off; he totally lights up like a human torch. His clothes stay on though. Well, most of the time," Craig amended. "I swear Eth's dying to test his fire with different materials to see what's the thickest density Warren can en flambé."
"What's his control like?" Ry asked warily, eyeing the trees and wooden house around them.
Craig laughed. "Fucking unbelievable, man. You're totally safe, I promise."
Ry nodded, his shoulders losing their tension; he trusted Craig more than he realised. "All right. If I die, I'm totally haunting you."
"Sure thing, man. Just be prepared to see some kinky shit, okay?" he added, grinning despite his blush.
Ry shook his head. "When I was a kid, I tried to find my mother on Google. The search results for 'beautiful Japanese lady' brought up more kinky shit than you could ever imagine."
"Ooh, that's harsh, dude. But I've got a tonne of imagination. Just ask Donny," Craig snickered.
Ry laughed.
"Would you two stop giggling and help me already?" Warren asked.
Craig snorted. "Yeah, we'll be right with you, dude. You feeling okay with the bees 'n stuff?" he asked Ry, who nodded in response.
"Yeah, I am. Warren's doing a great job," he added, seeing that only a few bees were flying around, lazy and slow.
Behind his hat, Warren smiled. "Thanks. Now, seriously Craig, get your ass over here before I light you on fire."
"You love me."
"Not the point, Craig."
Craig grinned and brought the tray forward so Warren could place the frames down carefully.
"We've got to take them inside; there's a honey extractor in there. Just gotta get the wax off first," Warren said. "How good are you with a knife?"
"Uh, good, I guess?" Ry replied, hesitant and wondering why he was asking.
"The wax has to be scraped off with a hot knife. It's a precise job; you can ruin the bees' frames if you're not careful. I'll heat the knives if you've got gloves?"
"I forgot them," Ry said.
"I've got a spare pair," Craig offered. "Jewel won't mind you borrowing them."
"Thanks."
"All right, that's all the frames with honey. Craig, head in and show Ry what to do, okay? I'll be in soon," Warren said, taking one of the fine-mesh screens to cover the open hive and stop the bees from escaping.
"Sure thing. C'mon, Ry," Craig said, bulking his arms to carry the tray of honey and wax frames inside, Ry following him in the bulky suit.
Warren glanced after Ry curiously. His vines had sharpened at Ry's response about the knives, though it didn't make any sense to him then or now.
Once the hives were covered, Warren sent another wave of smoke out to keep the bees calm while he was extracting the honey from the frames.
Heading inside, he found Craig explaining how to angle the hot knife to get the wax off the frame in the most precise manner. Ry was listening intently, his head tilted as he tried to follow Craig's motion.
"I'm better at the practical, not the theory of things. I'll give it a shot on a small section, if that's good?" Ry asked, looking between Craig and Warren.
"Yeah, no problem. If the frame breaks, don't worry; Layla can fix them easy," Warren said as he stripped out of his suit and hung it next to Layla's.
Thinking of the giant apple tree she'd grown from Edith's table, Ry just nodded.
Taking the extractor out of the kitchen, Warren set it on the dining table and put a tub next to it. Craig collected the knives and put them next to the tray so Warren could heat them.
"I'll go get the gloves," Craig said, walking through the wall.
Warren heated one of the knives to the correct temperature before taking the first frame and scraping the wax caps into the tub.
"What do you do with the wax?" Ry asked curiously.
"Haven't done anything with it yet. Any suggestions?" Warren asked.
"I know some girls that'd kill for beeswax lip balm or lotion. Or you could make candles? Plain beeswax, as well as scented candles with Layla's flowers, I guess? I don't know how to make candles, but I'm pretty sure wax is involved," Ry said with a grin.
"Yeah, most likely. Thanks for the ideas."
Ry shrugged. "No problem."
"Found 'em," Craig said, walking through the wall again.
"We've got customers; would you stop powering up?"
"The door's closed; no one saw me," Craig said with a pout, handing the gloves to Ry.
Ry pulled the gloves on and took the hot knife from Warren. Grabbing a frame, he held it at an angle and carefully scored the knife down the frame, the wax caps falling into the tub. "How was that?"
"Practically perfect. It took me ages to get it right," Craig admitted with a grin.
"You okay to do a few more? I'll get these frames set up in the extractor. I don't like leaving the bees without their frames for long," Warren said.
"Yeah, I'll keep going," Ry said, grabbing another frame.
"Ooh, that honey's gonna be amazing. I reckon we should bump the prices up, Warren."
"Talk to Layla," Warren said, setting up four frames in the extractor and turning it on, the extractor spinning the frames at a wild speed.
"How long does it take to extract the honey?" Ry asked.
"A couple of minutes," Warren replied, watching the frames spin and the honey starting to pool at the bottom of the extractor.
"Imagine what it'd be like without the extractor? We'd be here for hours," Craig groaned.
Warren rolled his eyes and ignored his friend.
In the time it took the extractor to finish the first four frames, Ry had finished taking the wax off the remaining twelve frames.
"Thanks, Ry. You're a natural," Warren said, grinning.
Ry smiled. "Thanks. Does that mean I can get some free honey?"
Craig laughed when Warren shook his head. "Ooh, you're sneaky. I like you."
"Same," Ry said, not as surprised by the easy admission as he might've been once.
Layla opened the door, her hair braided back. "I've closed up. How's the honey coming along?"
"Good. Just doing the extractions. Want to put these frames back for me?" Warren asked.
"Sure. Want to do the counter, Craig?"
He scrunched his nose up. "I was out by a nickel last time and Eth cold shouldered me for a full hour."
"Then double-check your work," Layla said, tugging her suit on.
Craig groaned loudly. "Fiiiiine. I hate you."
"Love you too," Layla quipped, kissing his cheek before pulling her hat on.
Ry watched the extractor curiously and saw that Warren's hand was on fire. "Are you all right?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I keep the extractor warm to help the honey move out of the frames faster. Want to fill the jars?" Warren offered, nodding to the row of empty jars that were sitting on the kitchen bench. "The honey's like liquid, so it comes out fast. Close the spout when it's almost full, like this," he said, taking the jar beside him and filling it with an expert hand in a matter of seconds.
Ry looked at the jar, then nodded. "Sure, I can do that."
"Don't worry if you spill anything; that's what the bucket's for," Warren said. "There's plastic gloves by the jars."
Taking off the borrowed gloves, Ry put on a pair of plastic gloves, and grabbed an empty jar to start working. It was repetitive work for the most part, but Ry found it hypnotic, watching honey flow out of the extractor's spout like liquid gold.
"That's the last of the frames. Want to rest now? It's been half an hour," Warren said.
Ry closed the spout once the jar was full. "Yeah, I might walk around Eden, if that's good?"
"Sure. I'll finish the jars," Warren said, taking Ry's seat once he was standing and stretching.
Grabbing his long hair, Ry tied it into a knot, then walked out to the garden. Remembering his earlier comment about tai chi, Ry figured the movements would be relaxing enough, and he stood in the proper starting position, closing his eyes as he began.
One of Ry's earlier childhood memories was of watching his father do tai chi in their lounge room. His movements were perfect and precise, his eyes closed with a sense of calm exuding from him. Ry had watched, completely captivated by the movements and the strength he could see in his father, even though the motions were calm and not at all aggressive. It was an inner sort of strength instead, and even at two years old, Ry knew that he wanted that for himself.
When Connor had finished his set, he had opened his eyes and looked at Ry with a smile, as if he'd known he was there all along. He had offered his hand to Ry and then restarted his set, teaching Ry each movement. His father's calm had never shattered, even when Ry had a small tantrum when he couldn't do a movement right.
In fact, in all of his known life, Ry had never seen his father's calm shatter. Ry could probably rob a bank and Connor would still be calm. Disappointed, perhaps, but still calm.
Grinning slightly at the thought, Ry continued through his set calmly. He came to a stop and opened his eyes, only to be face to face with Layla.
"Sorry, I didn't meant to startle you," she said quickly, seeing the surprised expression on his face. "It was very beautiful. Tai chi, right?"
Ry nodded. "I, uh, wanted to stretch after sitting down."
"Good idea," Layla said with a smile. "Could you teach me? Or recommend something for me to learn? I don't want to impose on you."
"Oh. Papa's a better teacher than I am," Ry said.
Layla smiled again. "I'd prefer you, if you don't mind?"
"Could I learn as well?" Warren asked from the Hive's doorway.
"Same here. Dude, that looked awesome," Craig said.
"It's just tai chi."
"Yeah, which none of us know how to do, so therefore, you are the master. Or should that be sensei? Hey, Adam? What's the name for the dojo karate master thing?"
"Soundproofed room, Craig," Warren said, shaking his head.
"Ah, shit. I keep forgetting. Well, you know what I mean."
"It's only if Ry agrees," Layla said. "I don't want to pressure you, so take as much time as you need to think about it, okay?" she said with a warm smile.
Ry nodded. "Thanks."
Warren turned and tugged Craig out of the doorway so Layla could come inside with her bulky suit. Ry lingered in Eden for a while, stretching and breathing the sweetly-scented air. When he walked back inside, he stopped short on seeing Warren cuddling Layla close while Craig was draped over his back like a monkey. Warren saw Ry and picked something up, throwing it to him faster than he'd intended.
Ry caught the object quickly, and he frowned at the jar of honey in his hands. "What's this?"
"Honey. As a thank you for helping out," Warren replied, though he felt somewhat stunned by how fast Ry had caught the jar.
"I never get honey for helping out," Craig said with a frown.
"That's because you ate more honey than you jarred last time you helped," Layla pointed out.
"It was delicious," Craig said, sighing contently at the memory.
"We had to buy a new spout for the extractor because of you," Warren muttered.
Craig snickered and pressed a smacking kiss to Warren's cheek. "No regrets, dude. None at all."
...
End of the eighty-second chapter.
