Fall had lazily strolled into Italy when Anabella whipped up something special in the bakery. The journey from the House was the usual one, but when Oliver arrived to his workplace, a waft of a heavy scent blew in his face, and he had to stop in the middle of the room to take a deep inhale. Anabella had drifted from the kitchen to investigate the newcomer, and grinned at the sight of her worker. He opened his eyes, blinking in surprise at her smile.

"That good?"

Oliver eagerly nodded.

"I made so many pumpkin spice cupcakes, I am afraid I do not have the stomach for them."

"Oh, but I do know plenty of people who do."

Anabella chuckled, and beckoned him to the kitchen. "Good. While they cool down, we need to pick up more confectioner's sugar at the food market. I want to see you behind the wheel on the way there."

The teen smiled and bobbed his head again. She shuffled back into the kitchen, and he automatically followed, lulled by the scent of early autumn. "I suppose we should start the icing, so we do not have to when we come back."

"Good, good," the elder wheezed, turning away from him to cough. Oliver's grin weakened, but he did not say anything as he dug around the cabinets for appropriate ingredients. He was aware of Anabella watching him work diligently, as she rested against the counter. "Keep this up, and you can run the bakery all by yourself!"

"I would not say that yet..."

"Ah, but you may soon," Anabella winked. She opened her mouth to say more, but a pained wheeze came out instead of words. A hand flew to her lips, and she turned away from Oliver, who dropped his whisk in horror. She leaned over the sink, gripping the rim enough for the blue veins in the back of her hands to bulge out with her heaving.

"Bella!" The boy exclaimed, and hurried over to her to pat her back. "It is all right, just get it out..." he trailed off, gawking at the blobs of red at the bottom of the basin. She took a shuddering breath, pulling away for the roll of paper towels. He grimaced as he turned on the faucet, watching the red run into the water, and slip down the drain. "Bella, we should go see a medical examiner-"

"Who's we?" The old woman snapped, crumbling the paper towel she used to wipe her mouth. "There is no need for drastic measures!"

"You are coughing blood!"

Anabella sharply pointed out, "Oliver, people become sickly at my age."

"That does not mean you have to suffer!"

"Enough," her voice crumbled, and she stuck the paper towel to her mouth, coughing again. "You are not the sickly one. Do not concern yourself with my problems."

Oliver knew that was easier said than done, but kept quiet so he would not upset his boss, his friend. He walked back to the house with more than a dozen of pumpkin spice cupcakes, only growing more hungrier from the warmth seeping out of the bottom of the plastic container. The scent must have pleased another nose, and as soon as the front gate closed, the fluffy chimera inched down a tree, wiggling its tail in greeting to the boy. He averted his course to the front door, and approached the tree.

"Apple?"

"Not this time." Oliver peeled the lid away, and lifted a cupcake out of the batch. "This is a cupcake. It is a delicacy," he explained, pulling the wrapper away awkwardly as he held onto the container, and held it out to the cat-monkey. The chimera gazed at the treat, and reached for it uncertainly. "All for you," the boy assured. Once it started nibbling, savoring instead of snatching its meal, he asked, "Do you like it?"

"I am eating it, am I not?"

Oliver giggled, clamping the container shut. "Do you have a name?"

The cat-monkey shoved the rest of the cupcake in its sharp mouth, gulping with a satisfied grumble. "One only needs a name if they are called upon."

"I assume nobody talks to you a lot, then?"

"Not until recently."

"Since I do, may I give you a name?"

The chimera tilted its fluffy head, almost laying it on its shoulder. "You would do that?"

"Yes! How about Gizmo?"

"Githmo?"

"Gizmo, with a Z."

"Githmo," the cat-monkey repeated quickly, unable to replicate the exact noises with its fangs. "You may refer to me as such if you with to speak to me."

"Thank you. I will-"

"Ah, I nearly forgot," Gizmo twitched, tossing a glance to the House. "Those...malcontented children are performing their antics again. You see, the cooler weather heightens animalistic drives, and I believe they were hunting that mate of yours. They went into that building, and I have not seen them since."

Oliver gasped, "Since when?"

"Since a few moments ago."

"Oh!" Oliver spun on his heel, throwing a thanks to Gizmo, and hurried to the porch. "What in the world-" He choked on his anger when a shadow fell on the front door's window.

Gizmo called from its perch, "Get back!"

Oliver clenched his container of cupcakes, and ran backwards a few paces as the wood paneling burst open with a body flying onto the porch. The kid groaned, wreathing from the impact. It was one from his neighbor's posse. The plastic squawked from Oliver's furious grip as he glared at his Housemate. More boys dashed out of the small opening, carrying panicked cries, and almost trampled over their fallen comrade. One even dove over the railing, yelping in fright as if his jeans were ablaze. The last streaked out of the House with a hand clamped over his ear. A trail of blood seeped pass his palm, and he dashed away after nearly tripping down the stairs as if Oliver was not there.

"Gosh, who has done this?" Oliver murmured, but the boy sprawled on the porch flopped to his side, whining from unseen pain.

A new figure stepped into the doorway, glaring at the body trembling beneath him. Allen's brother, Matt, of all people, moved his jaw as if he had something in his mouth. He held the object between his teeth for a moment, and the coward picked up his head with soft whimpers. The blond spat the object out, metal clattering onto the wood right before the boy.

"Your friend forgot his earring."

The boy screeched, scrambled to his feet, and quickly limped after his scattered buddies. Without the usual shades covering his face, Oliver could meet Matt's dark and dull gray-violet eyes, and the awful bags underlining them portending his attitude. He stepped to the side, revealing that he was gripping a battered broom. The plastic rod was nearly bent in half. Oliver did not know what to say; he was too impressed.

"Wow," was all he could manage.

"Yeah. If you see any of those assholes acting up again, send them my way."

Oliver beamed. "It will be my pleasure. Thank you."

Matt grunted, his eyes flickering away as another face wedged between him and the doorframe. "For what?"

Allen beamed and flapped a hand at Oliver. "For what? You totally kicked those guys asses. Come on, bro, I mean, I know I'm pretty awesome and shit, but they're are like, gangin' up on me like I was some piece o' meat." He looked to the other teen and called out, "Hey, baby!"

"Hi, Allen," Oliver called back curtly. "What in the world do you mean they were ganging on you?"

The other teen slipped onto the porch, and tossed his arms from his sides in a confused gesture. "I dunno! I was just chillin' out, an' they came into the lounge to start talkin' to me. Then they started sayin' all this stupid shit, gettin' me mad, so I had to punch one o' 'em in the face."

"Oh, goodness! You all right?"

Matt heavily sighed, and propped the battered broom against the entrance's wall. "You stepped on a hive of hornets, that's what you did."

"Yeah, 's'all good now. Lucky fer me that you were 'round, Matt! Thanks, man!"

"It was lucky," his brother irritably snapped, "but next time, you won't be as lucky."

Oliver's eyes drooped to the large container in his hands. He was certain Allen could be easily provoked, but those boys must have been asking for it. They had to either be very bored with themselves, or were out for something. The baker had little to no idea what they could have possibly want from him or any of his friends.

Allen's gaze zoned on the container he protectively gripped, and bounded off the porch. "Are those cupcakes?!"

"Uh, yes, they are. Oh!" Oliver exclaimed in delight when the other teen leaned over to plant a big, wet smooch on his cheek.

Allen turned to holler at his brother, "Hey, Matt! Ollie's got cupcakes!"

Matt immediately became animated. "Really? What kind?"

The baker pinched the lid, making it groan from the treatment. "They are pumpkin spice, but I should really give these to the girls. I sort of owe them-"

"Pumpkin spice?" Matt raised his eyebrows. "Holy shit, that's like the nectar of the Gods. Are you willing to share? I need to get the taste of pig blood from my mouth."

Oliver glanced to the bleachers wedged in the corner of the property's fence. The girls were not present, most likely scattered from the cool weather and evening darkness. If these boys gobble these goods up, then they will be none the wiser of their existence. "I am not going to eat all of these," Oliver shook the plastic, and both pairs of eyes were trained on treats inside. "Allen might, so make sure you get some for yourself."

"Let's eat them in the dining hall," the blond suggested, and hurried to the porch, leaving the others to follow him.

"Umf! I'm so excited!" Allen exclaimed. "Did Anabella make 'em?"

"Yes, she did."

"How she doin'?"

Oliver grimaced. "Not good, Allen."

The other boy lowered his flapping hands. "What'd you mean?"

"She was...coughing up blood earlier."

"Shit, really?"

"Yes, really," Oliver replied almost tersely. Miss Warden pushed the dining hall door from the other side, giving the pair a curious look, but went for her desk without a word. "She says that is what happens to people her age, but I cannot help but worry. She is a friend."

Matt was already sitting at a long table coming from the farthest and most secluded wall. His brother settled beside Oliver, giddy as he peeled off the lid, revealing the treats. The blond spoke up, "Oh, someone else may sit with us. I'm going to give him some of mine."

"That is all right," Oliver said, dishing out the pastries. "Everyone has plenty, even if I split it four ways, and make sure you peel off the wrapper before shoving it in your mouth, Allen."

Just as he was about to do that, Allen took his cupcake from his face, and tugged on the paper. Matt seemed piqued how Oliver did not have to look to know his brother was doing something stupid. "You willingly put yourself through that?"

"Oh, you know about us?"

"Al never shuts up about you."

Allen gaffed, crumbs flying onto the table. He snagged an arm around Oliver's waist, and proclaimed with his mouth still full, "This my babe!"

His brother keenly observed, "No shit."

Oliver held a hand against the nose nuzzling his jaw. "You are going to get icing all over me!"

Matt loudly cleared his throat, nodding to something behind them. "Hey."

The duo turned their heads to the newcomer, staring at him in subtle shock as he seated beside the blond. Siegmund moved his hands expertly, and jerked his chin to them. He pointed at the cupcakes in front of him, tipping his head.

"Um," Oliver gave himself a little shake from his gaze. "Matt said he was expecting somebody. Those are yours."

Siegmund nodded and shoved one in his mouth almost as sloppily as Allen did. Matt was glaring at a wall to the side, so he nudged his shoulder and signed. It was all strange movement to Oliver. The blond turned back to him, watching the motion, and replied, "I'm fine."

"Matt," Oliver asked, "When did you learn sign language?"

"I've been learning," Matt said, looking to the wall again. Oliver glanced to the panel and wallpaper, but did not see anything out of the ordinary.

Allen stared at the mute, looking puzzled. "Why are y'here wit' us?" From a sharp glare from his brother, he quickly added, "It's just that you're wit' Luciano's lil' gang most o' the time."

"So?" Matt challenged, "He can hang out with us if he wants."

Siegmund agreed with a furious chomp on his cupcake, directed at Allen, who furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Oliver clasped his hands together when a brilliant thought popped in his head. "Maybe we can hang out with him, and in turn, Luciano's little friends!"

Allen choked on a cupcake. "Little friends? Have you seen that Lutz guy? His arms are bigger than your legs!"

Matt swiped a wrapper from the table and lamely tossed it at his brother. "I thought you and Luciano used to butt heads."

Oliver wagged his head side to side in thought of the first time he had the (questionable) opportunity to meet the crazy Italians before bumping into any one else in the House. "Yes, we used to. We have been more...should I say civil, with one another."

Allen snatched the assaulting cupcake wrapper, launched it at Matt, and it landed on top of his head. Matt crossed his arms, going on as if it was not nestled in his hair, "That's good, I guess. I'm sure they won't mind, or at least prefer you to hang with them as opposed to those other assholes."

Oliver glanced to the other two teens and shrugged. "I say I would rather it be that way as well."