Okay! So. I really, really wanted to publish this as a completed one-shot in time for the holiday, but, alas, I have failed at that. Miserably. And that's why I decided to break it up into smaller pieces. With that being said, the update schedule on this is gonna be really weird. Who knows? Maybe I'll post two chapters in one day? But, honestly, probably not. A gal's gotta cook.

Anyway, onward~!

The fighter and bartender called King groaned as she stared up at the ceiling from her place in her bed. Despite making such a displeased sound, she was comfortable; her blanket was nice and warm, and her cat, Marron, was peacefully sleeping by her left knee. Even better was that she had woken up on her own, not because of an alarm, and not because some nightmare had jarred her back to consciousness at some strange or inconvenient hour. It would have been glorious to just roll over and go back to sleep, but she had to get up. Not to go to work, but because she had to get ready for the second worst day of the year:

Thanksgiving.

King never understood the holiday. Give thanks to the all-seeing, all-knowing sky guy… by gathering in a group of people (who typically had mixed emotions about one another) and eating a turkey. Even if she believed in Sky Guy she still wouldn't have understood it. Thanksgiving was a truly baffling American custom to her, and it didn't help that the day always went wrong. Sitting down with her hateful aunt and uncle for a meal she couldn't fully eat because of her pescetarian diet only to end up arguing with them (or even their guests) in front of her little brother was not her idea of a good time. And even when she didn't see her family, things still ended up messy: Car accidents, dredging up past traumas… it just always sucked no matter where she was or who she was with, and though she was trying to hold out hope that this year would be different, she knew that the day wasn't going to go particularly well. Although there was a part of King that wondered if she was self-sabotaging, she had only had one decent Thanksgiving since her parents died and she moved to the United States. Literally one.

With a sigh, the Frenchwoman reached for her phone to check the time (it was a little after ten) before grudgingly sitting up. Although dinner wasn't for many hours, she still needed to get ready for the day, which she wasn't spending with her family, or even her great friends, the "Kyokugen Crew." This time around she had been invited to hang out with Mary and Mai, along with their beaus, Terry and Andy Bogard, and Terry's adopted son, Rock. She was on excellent terms with all of them (except maybe the kid, but that was because she simply didn't know him all that well) so, in theory, the day would go swimmingly.

In.

Theory.

Realistically, a lot could go wrong. A lot would go wrong. What it was, King couldn't think of off the top of her head… but there was something. Because there was always something…

At that moment, the text chime on her phone went off. She grabbed the device and let out a soft chuckle as she read the text from her little brother, Jean, that simply read, "U up?"

King smirked. She began to type a response but decided that calling would be better (and easier) than texting, so she navigated to the FaceTime app on her phone and initiated a video call. It rang only once before her brother appeared on the small screen, a somewhat confused look on his face.

"You didn't have to call right away."
"I know, but —" a yawn — "I'd rather talk to you now so that we can have a pleasant conversation before everything goes to shit."
"You're gonna be with your friends, Céc," Jean assured. "You'll be alright."
"In the long run, sure. But there's too much that can go wrong — as always," King pointed out.
"Like what?"

The bartender made a face as she once again tried to think about what could go south with the Bogards of all people.

"See? You can't even come up with anything!" Jean stated.
"I just can't think straight because I'm still waking up," King reasoned.
"Sure. When are you gonna go over?"
"I don't know. Maybe a little after two?"
"So there's no chance of you coming over here at all?"
"Sorry, kiddo —" King pushed some hair out of her face — "but between last-minute errands and traffic I'm just not going to have time. And even then, I would have to drive all the way out there, then drive back here. And! You know what happens when I'm around too long, especially on holidays for some reason."
"The way they treat you is bullshit," the boy grumbled.
"Language."

Jean gave King a pointed look.

"You know I say worse around my friends, right?"
"Yes, but I'm your sister — and an adult," King replied sternly.
"Fair."
"So what's on the agenda today? Maddy and Gary invited friends, right?"
"Yeah — Cynthia and Albert," Jean replied with an expression of disdain.

King couldn't help letting out a hearty laugh.

"...I beat up their son in eleventh grade."
"I think I remember that! You were grounded for, like, two weeks!"
"That was the price I paid for defending myself against Johnny Football Hero. He's not going to be there, is he?"
"Nah. He moved up north a few months ago," came Jean's reply.
"Good. You don't need to be around assholes like him."
"Well, his parents still suck."
"Not surprising. Just be on your best behaviour," King told her brother. "But don't take any shit, either."
"That goes for you, too, you know."
"I'm always on my best behaviour!"
"Lies, Céc! Always lying!"

The bartender felt a small pit forming in her stomach. She knew that Jean still held some residual resentment toward her over everything that happened with Mr. Big and the Syndicate. As much as it hurt, she couldn't blame him, though. She had lied to him — to everyone — for seven whole months; finding out that she — a person whom he loved and admired — wasn't being truthful about pretty much every single aspect of her life at that point because she was out doing violent crime was bound to leave some scars.

Maybe this was the disaster du jour…

"Jean," King started after taking a deep breath, "You know that I —!"
"Relax," the boy interrupted. "I'm just messing with you!"
"Are you…?! Are you serious?!"
"Love youuuuuuuuuuu!"

King let out a sigh of relief, glad that her brother wasn't upset with her (at the moment, anyway).

"Love you too, kiddo." A pause. "I should probably get going..."
"Okay, well… don't do anything weird and you should be fine. Just… if something comes up, be calm. Caaaaaaalllllmmmmmmmmm."
"Fly off the handle," King said with a nod. "Got it."
"Céc!"
"Now I'm just messing with you."
"Jerk."
"Don't dish it out if you can't take it," King chuckled. "I really do need to be going now, though. Be good, okay?"
"That goes double — no, triple — for you, Céc."
"And I will be!"
"Pinky promise," Jean suddenly ordered while holding up his pinky finger. His face was so serious that King couldn't help laughing as she held up her own pinky.
"Promise!"

There's not a whole lot by way of notes here, since this was clearly the setup to things to come, but there's some word of God stuff, so, without further ado:

* About King's diet: Canonically, she is a vegetarian, however, in illyverse here, she broke her diet for a brief stretch of time and had a little trouble getting back to it. She decided to somewhat compromise by going pescetarian instead.
* Dredging up past trauma, and car accidents, refer to Wonder What's Next and Accident, respectively.
* The one good Thanksgiving refers to her time with Mary in Thanksgiving Blues.
* Illyverse Jean is twelve
* Albert Simmons was mentioned by name in the story Breakfast of Champions, which takes place when King is a teenager
* Yes, that name is a Resident Evil reference that just kinda happened
* King's relationship with Jean was extremely strained after the events of Art of Fighting because of her having to lie to everyone to successfully carry out her ruse. Although the siblings get along just fine (now) Jean harbours some residual resentment toward his big sis

Alright! Hope that cleared some things up! See you next time! At least I hope? Also, if you celebrate, have a happy Thanksgiving! Cheers~!