Chapter Seven:
Arum

"ardor, faithfulness"

Disclaimer: I do not own the series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Like, at all. It and all its respectable characters are © to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, and ViacomCBS and Nickelodeon. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me, unless it is stated otherwise. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.

Summary: Life had been simple. Shay had moved out of LA to Montana's deep northwestern woods with her kids. She had a ranch and house. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than LA. Shay, however, hadn't planned on hosting a bunch of mutant turtles that stemmed from old comics, movies, or shows. Just how far will she and her kids go to protect them from their tight knit community?

Notes: Apologies for the lengthy delay in postings between chapters. Been trying to sell my house for the past few months and it hasn't really gone past inspections with potential buyers. It's frustrating.

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"Without imagination, there can be no genuine ardor in any pursuit or for any acquisition, and without imagination, there can be no genuine morality, no profound feeling of other men's sorrow, no ardent and persevering anxiety for their interests."
— William Godwin

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"Do you have to work today? It's Saturday!"

The utter despair written on Korra's face was palpable. Shay knew her daughter was one step away from turning the page and slipping into a pouty, grumpy mess. She seemed to be doing that more often. Shay sighed and bobbed her head a few times.

"Yes, I do, because my boss is a jackass. And Auntie Georgie is coming in today since her mom is out of the hospital now."

"Is it Peter making you come in?"

"Yes. Ugh. Him. That motherfucker." A flash of a book's surface skittered across her mind and she could recite the short poem word for word. 'Ah, there he is. That motherfucker. What a tool.'

That was it. That was exactly how she felt about Peter.

"He's a jerk." Korra concurred with a sage little nod. "He's always picking on you, like a bully."

"Damn straight." Shay checked her back jeans pockets, feeling the familiar contours of her wallet in one, her phone in the other. Shay patted the top of her head, fingers glancing off the lens of her sunglasses. Korra trotted along behind Shay, hot on her mother's heels as they moved toward the front door.

"But don't worry, baby girl. I won't let him get under my skin. It's much too thick to let him. And just you wait, the schedule will return to normal tomorrow and Auntie Georgie said I can take an extra day off, or she'd go over Peter's chrome dome to the business owner."

"Jason?"

"Julian," Shay corrected, wrapping an arm around Korra's narrow shoulders reassuringly. "And I've got some insurance to back me up, just in case."

"So that you don't punch his lights out." Korra finished dubiously. Shay winced, incredibly abashed and realizing that talking about wanting to punching Peter—or anyone, for that matter—was probably not the right example to set for her kids.

"This is one of those 'do as I say, not as I do' moments, honey. Please don't go punching people, not unless they actually deserve it. You'll burn more bridges than make them, trust me."

Korra thought on that for a few lingering moments before responding to her mother.

"So, if a boy or a girl was hitting me, I can hit back."

"In a case like that, absolutely. You should be able to defend yourself. Just don't get caught. I've had some, uh…personal experience. The person who throws the first punch in a school fight is hardly ever the one who gets in trouble, it's the person who tries to defend themselves."

"That's messed up," Korra responded as she looped her arm around Shay's middle and gave her mother a squeeze. Shay wrapped her arms around her daughter in return, thankful for the reassuring embrace.

"I need you to help hold down the fort for me today, okay? Keep an eye on your brother, but don't be a jerk to him, please—you're not the mommy, I am. Pay attention to the clock, make sure you guys eat lunch at noon. If you have any homework, you need to finish that before you watch movies or play games. I took out that rump roast so it can be put it in the stew I've got on the crockpot, so don't let it get back in the fridge, it's still kinda frozen. I need it to defrost more so it takes less time to cook. Check on it sometime after lunch, and if it's not all that frozen, put it in, please."

"I know, Mom, I know." Korra rolled her eyes but grinned up at her mother. "Don't hit anyone unless they deserve it. Put food in the soup goop and make sure we eat something at lunch. Don't be a jerk to my little brother."

"Roget that, kiddo." Shay returned a brazen smile and kissed Korra on the crown of her head. Korra's thick curly hair tickled Shay's nose as she pulled away and she could smell the lightest traces of her daughter's flowery shampoo and conditioner.

"Be good. And listen to the adults in the house, please? If they tell you to do something like clean something up, listen to them. Don't get all huffy and pissy with them, I don't care if you're asked to help out with anything. You complain once and I hear about it, you can kiss your allowance goodbye alongside any privileges regarding video games, movies, and all things in between for two weeks. I mean it."

Korra's smile fell and pulled a face at her mother. Shay poked her on the forehead, earning a small groan from Korra. "That's the face. Don't pull that on them." Shay dithered by the front door, even as she reluctantly broke the embrace and gathered her keys up from the little seashell-shaped bowl sitting on the table by the front door. It was one thing to ask the brothers to help watch her kids after school while she was away at work. They only had to do it for two, three hours, tops. This was going to be the first full day they've had to watch the kids and that alone made her anxious, guilty. A weekday was one thing. Weekends were quite another.

I wonder if I would get in trouble with taking them into work with me, Shay thought as she toyed with the idea in her head and felt ready to spring atop it. Fuck Peter and the stick up his ass. He's allowed Chelsea to do it, so fuck it.

She reached for Korra's hand, intent on ushering her daughter back to her side.

A green three-fingered hand beat her to it, gently tugging Korra back. Shay looked up, startled to see Michelangelo there. He grinned at her before shifting his gaze to Korra.

"Hey, kiddo! We had a lot of fun yesterday, didn't we? What do you say we watch something after your homework's done to keep the good vibes going, huh?"

Korra's attention shifted from her mother to the orange-banded turtle, and she smiled up at him. She swiveled on her heel to follow Michelangelo, already jibber-jabbering about school and her friends and more. Before they turned the corner that led to the living room and kitchen, Michelangelo shot Shay one last parting grin, a wave, and a wink.

"Don't worry, sweet cheeks, we'll take good care of the kids. We've got this. Have fun at work!"

A split second later, they were gone, just like that. Shay could just barely hear her daughter still talking, and peppered between her words, Michelangelo laughed and responded with enthusiasm and glee. The anxious thoughts and worries that had riddled Shay minutes ago quelled at last. She had nothing to be concerned about. Her kids would be just fine and more than that, they'd be safe.

Shay quietly slipped out the door, somewhat more ready to face the workday and confident that her kids were in safe hands.

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"So, kiddo, you got any homework you need to finish?"

Korra shrugged, slumping forward onto the kitchen table. Her stomach rumbled, still hungry even after having a full bowl of cereal. She glanced at Michelangelo sitting beside her. "Not really. School gets out for summer in, like, a month. They've kinda slowed things down and stuff."

Castiel, in contrast to his older sister, was curled up on the couch in the living room, a PlayStation controller in his hands as he navigated the home page with practiced ease.

"You don't have any assignments? No reports, no projects?" The orange-banded terrapin pushed, still tentative above all else.

Korra shook her head in reply.

"Mm-mm. Just end of the school year stuff. Cas doesn't even get homework. He's in second grade. They don't give homework to second graders here."

"We brought home art projects and stuff," Castiel piped up, tearing his eyes away from the flatscreen to motion to the kitchen. "We just had Mother's Day, and Mommy put up our cards on the fridge."

"What about your dad?"

Michelangelo puzzled over the shakes of the heads from the kids, and for one sinking moment, the glimmer of the worst possibilities began to rise up.

"Mommy and Daddy are divorced. He lives in Wisconsin. We see him every summer break." Castiel offered nonchalantly, returning his attentions back to the PlayStation. He continued his quick navigation through the menus until he got where he wanted to go. Netflix signed on, flashing across the television screen.

"That…kinda sounds like it sucks." It wasn't as bad as Michelangelo had originally thought, and it was also a relief that it wasn't a dreaded case of 'dead parent', like many comic book characters' backstories. That would have been a total bummer. Divorce was a surprisingly amicable step up from that. He still thought the actual state of things had to be hard for the kids. His head was already churning at a hundred miles per hour, speeding on past the downer thoughts.

"What do you guys do for fun? When you don't have homework, that is."

Korra perked and sat up, turning in her seat just a smidge toward Michelangelo.

"Well…we have the clay stuff in the work shed. We got one of those pottery spinners, too. That's always fun. Sometimes we go fishing, or berry picking. Ooh! And mushrooms. We always have to be careful though. Some can make us really sick. And my Mommy used to take us out on rides on trails through the forest, but those poachers kept hunting in our forest and then too many predators kept coming in to eat what was left over. Last winter, we had a mountain lion on our back porch!"

"Whaaaat? You sure it wasn't that big kitty cat up there?" Michelangelo lightly teased as he pointed to the taxidermized big cat lounging on a high shelf above the kitchen entrance. He split his attentions between the mountain lion and the kids, smiling broadly. Too high for a simple step stool, it would have needed a ladder to prop up along the ledge. It was posed in a languid position, body splayed out as though it was laying down to rest. Its false amber-coloured eyes were staring attentively at something distant.

"No. We got Peaches from an antique shop in town. It's actually a shop across the parking lot from where she works in downtown Whitefish!" Korra stated in a matter-of-factly voice. She then began to dive into a series of stories about their time in Whitefish, prattling on with enthusiasm. Cas peppered in his own broken bits of commentary, some of it vague and filled with doubt due to his young age and overall uncertainty.

Some memories simply didn't stick in their entirety.

"Can we have some more food? I'm still hungry," Korra requested, cutting off from her previous train of thoughts regarding taxidermy big cats, her mother, and everything else.

"Uhhh, sure thing, kiddo. What didja have in mind?"

Michelangelo slipped out of his seat with fluid ease, leading the way into the kitchen. Cas hurried over and was close on his heels, staring up at his shell with wide-eyed curiousity. Korra watched as they disappeared into the kitchen.

"Is that heavy?" Cas queried. When Michelangelo turned to face the boy, Cas emphasized his question by pointing to the shell. The orange-banded turtle broke out into another infectiously easy-going grin.

"Nah, not by a long-shot, little guy. I hardly notice it. Kinda have to, since it's part of me." His smile remained in place, even as he paused for a moment, taking note of the slightest crease of confusion that crossed Castiel's features. "It's not like it's a backpack. I can't just drop my shell off my back and call it a day. It's attached to me, see?"

He motioned on either side of him, giving the young boy a full view of where shell connected to scaled flesh connected to plastron. He watched as the light in the boy's eyes grow exponentially with wonder. Cas lifted a hand, hovering in the space between them before snatching it back with even more questions written plainly on his face.

"Can I touch it?" Castiel's voice was hushed, almost reverent as much as it was hesitant. His little brow beetled in concern and uncertainty.

Michelangelo hardly hesitated, his broad smile remaining painted across his face as he motioned enthusiastically to the boy, even stooping down to allow for better access. "Sure, go ahead, little dude! And don't worry, I don't bite!"

Castiel was quick to take him up on the offer, tiny hands spreading wide as he poked and prodded at Michelangelo's side. He spread them across the rougher texture of his shell, to the slightly smoother surface of his skin. Fascination was bright and fevered in Cas's maple-dark eyes. Fascination alit his entire being as a grin split his face. He giggled incessantly, giddy as can be. He was completely at ease with the orange-banded turtle and followed after Michelangelo like a puppy-dog, right on his heels. He poked at the shell a few more times, asking if Michelangelo could feel it.

"Nah, you'd need to scratch it a bit harder. Even then, it's not really like scratching skin. It's…more like pressure? Donnie would be able to explain it better, but I'm pretty sure it'd go over your heads. It goes over mine, and I've been doing just fine!"

It didn't take long for the two of them to turn it into a game of keep-away. Cas chased after the orange-banded turtle with his hands outstretched to tag Michelangelo, laughing hysterically. Korra watched, warring within herself on whether she should join her younger brother or chastise him on the whole affair. It didn't mean that she didn't laugh under her breathe at her brother's silly antics.

It also didn't take long for Michelangelo to turn it into a more advanced version of keep-away. He would let the little boy come just barely into range and dance out of reach right before Cas could tag him. Castiel didn't take it as an obstacle to sit down and cry over. He took the challenge seriously. He began to stalk Michelangelo through the living room—the best way a six-year-old could. Korra chose to opt out entirely and instead settled to watch the antics as they unfolded. She gathered up her food—a task abandoned by everyone else—and returned to the living room.

Bandit, an orange and white calico, lounged beside his girl at his leisure. This was the same cat who had slept on Shay's pregnant belly when Korra was in it—and then would affectionately snuggle with and groom Korra in her crib or her bassinet as a baby. After Cas was born five years later, Bandit held true to his instincts in hovering near the children. If they weren't in the house, Bandit would wail his displeasure with deep-chested meows that echoed across the house. As Korra's Nonnie was fond of pointing out, Bandit was the kids' cat, through and through.

He was snuggled up closely to her on the couch now, looking as content and happy as a cat can be. Once his lantern-orange eyes closed and his body stilled, he had no intentions of moving for quite some time. Softly, he purred away while Korra stroked his head. She turned back to a movie that Cas had put on earlier, although she was hardly paying it any mind. The rumble in her stomach grew the longer she sat on the couch. It simply drew out her exasperation the longer she waited.

When it became apparent that her earlier mention of food had been all but forgotten, she got up and ambled into the kitchen. She wasn't nearly as surprised to see one of the other turtles in the kitchen as well, hidden behind the fridge doors. She carefully sidestepped behind him to get to the walk-in pantry. The door opening resulted in a noisy creak from its hinges.

"Find anythin' good?"

Korra didn't turn around at the sudden inquiry. She merely shrugged, carefully moving canned goods and boxes of quick-fix meals and stand-alone ingredients to see what was behind them all.

"Mm-mm. I'd say leftover enchiladas, but somebody ate what was supposed to be leftovers of them last night," she responded. A snort and a short laugh answered her back.

"Wonder who did that."

"I dunno, but they must've been really hungry. Someone who eats more than the average person."

"Ya know kid, I feel like I'm gettin' called out."

"I never gave a name or accused anyone specific," she answered back slyly.

Korra continued to rummage around in the pantry's shelves, taking pause at a trio of Pop-Tart boxes. One of them was already pried open, and she knew neither she nor her brother had any at all in the last several days. When she picked it up and looked inside, she was surprised to see glaringly opened wrappers.

"What the heck…?" She looked up and turned her questioning gaze on Raphael, wagging the box in hand. He saw what she was holding in her hand and his shoulders rolled, a frown flickering across his face.

"Take it up with Donnie, he's the frosting-licker."

"How do you—"

"He's admitted to it before," Raphael replied before she could finish her inquiry. Korra replaced the pop-tarts back onto the shelf and found a box of cereal she had originally been craving for.

Korra jumped at the sudden crack of thunder that rumbled from overhead. She stepped out of the pantry, clutching the cereal box to her chest. Stepping further out of the kitchen, she wandered to the sliding glass doors that led to a raised patio deck. Outside, dark clouds clung to the sky above, casting everything in the steely dark haze of grey and muted cold shadows. The trees surrounding the property swayed constantly, their leaves and branches rattling as the wind gusted through them.

"Um…guys?"

Korra hugged herself, shivering at the sight of the ominous storm clouds that seemed to drop lower and lower with every passing second. She pursed her lips when nobody else seemed to notice the weather. Korra whirled on her heels, gave one impatient stomp and shouted, "HEY, YOU GUYS!"

When she finally got everyone's attention, she pointed out the sliding glass door, in the vague direction of the barn and paddocks.

"I think we should probably bring in the animals. It looks like it's going to start raining any minute and I don't want Mom getting mad that we didn't do it. Plus, I don't want to see the animals all soaked and get sick and stuff."

Castiel groaned softly, his outstretched hands dropping limply to his sides. His joyous expression also fell as he seemed to slump in on himself.

"I'm not big enough to bring the horses in by myself, and neither are you!"

"Aw, little dude, we can help. Think we're big enough together to get it done?"

The offer from Michelangelo was all the encouragement Cas needed to hear. He perked up almost instantly, wired with a sudden flood of invigorating energy.

"We can do it!"

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"Oh, my god. Girl, you were exaggerating when you said he was creepy looking. He's a fine piece of ass! If anything, you should hit that."

Shay wished that she could pause this moment in time just to bang her head against the register desk without worrying about customers staring. Just a quick freeze. It was a crying shame that life didn't come with a pause button.

She shoved those instincts down, down, down and instead rolled her eyes as she gently took her phone away from Georgina, stuffing it back into her pocket.

"You would chase after anything on two legs, George."

Georgina balked, making a complete show of it—a mocking gasp, hand flying to her chest, leaning backwards, eyes widening in false offense. The whole nine yards.

"Excuse me, but there are plenty of things on two legs I would never chase after. Like an ostrich or one of your damn chickens, for example. You, on the other hand, are a workaholic who's obsessed with her kids and her pets in all her free time, has no life outside them, and chooses to pass up fine pieces of ass over, what, watching a bunch of gory horror films in the middle of the night, in the dark, munching on snacks."

"Still mad at me for making you watch Green Inferno, huh?" Shay deadpanned before sighing at her friend. "George, you don't even have any kids, how would you understand that? You've got a new boyfriend every month from all over the place, and I just don't have that kind of time!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, Shay wished she could take them back. Her nerves were so frayed and frazzled, things didn't go through the filter quite as effectively. She also realized it was a pretty asshole-ish thing to say to a friend.

Georgina leaned away from Shay, perfectly plucked eyebrows rising up as the smile left her face and slid downwards into a frown.

Shay's shoulders fell, slumping forward as the rest of her sagged.

"I…I didn't mean it like that, George. I'm sorry. That was…rude. And mean. And really, really bitchy of me to say. I only meant…I wish I could be like you. More easy-going when it comes to dating. I didn't really do it in high school, and when I did, my ex was a slime-ball. He…" Shay sighed before continuing. "He said he wanted a break after only a month and a half of dating. I came to find he started dating someone else. I felt stupid, not realizing he was actually breaking up with me. I still don't know what I did wrong. And then, when he and his girlfriend were fighting almost two years later, he came to me for consolation. I thought he was maybe coming back to me, but he just…"

"Wanted to get a pity fuck out of you," Georgine finished flatly, lips pressed into a thin line. Shay nodded.

"He didn't get it out of me. When that failed, I found out through his girlfriend over MySpace, of all things, about the fight they'd had right before his nightly visitations and how happy she was that they had made up."

"And then there's your ex-husband. The man you were married to for ten years. Father of your two kids, etcetera, etcetera."

Shay nodded again, her attention drifting to the art gallery's floor. There weren't many people inside, and she felt safe in saying it was due to the impending crummy weather. It was an unusually dull and dreary day, complete with dark clouds and the promising rumble of thunder building up overhead. The few people who risked being out hurried along to finish their business in a timely fashion.

She briefly hoped that it would be enough to dissuade Andrei from coming in. He was in the top three she currently didn't want to interact with until the next ice age. Or ever, if she could help it. Shay turned her attention back to Georgina.

"I'm sorry, George. I didn't mean to be an asshole. I guess I'm…jealous, maybe? You can click with people better than me. I always feel awkward and out of place when it seems like something other than a fun buddy is being a pal with me. And I guess I'm afraid of things getting so awkward if we date and then have a falling out and that whatever we had before dating was ruined…if any of that makes sense."

Georgina considered her friend, face drawn into a flat, expressionless mask. Gently, she reached over and slung her arm around Shay's shoulders, drawing her in close for a sideways hug.

"It does make sense. And I forgive you, but only because I love you, girl. I know it's been hard, but from the sound of things, you've come a long way. I'm proud of that. And thank you for apologizing. I know you kinda have a foot-in-mouth problem sometimes, so I'll ignore your earlier comment for now."

Relief came in slow, soothing waves and Shay leaned further into the hug, lapping up Georgina's forgiveness the same way a dying man would upon finding clean water to guzzle in a desert. She was grateful for a friend like Georgina. She reminded Shay so much of her best friend that still lived down in California. They had known each other since Shay was a young teenager, and they were coming up fast on nearly twenty years of friendship. Georgina, in contrast, has been Shay's friend for almost three-going-on-four years, and it was a comforting balm to have a friend in a strange place.

"Sorry I'm an asshole sometimes."

"It's okay. So long as you aim it away from me more often, I'll take a few hits when the need arises. Keeps me humble. Just so long as you don't mind a few hits yourself."

"I can do with some downgrading notches here and there," Shay teased back. Georgina rubbed Shay's arm before breaking the embrace and stepping out from the counter.

"I'll do some rounds and check on the facilities. You man the register until I get back."

Shay gave her a mock salute, watching as Georgina disappeared around the bend of the freestanding wall.

Not even a minute later, the gallery front door slid open, admitting a sudden gush of cold air to gust inside. The store bell tinkled as the door swept inward and admitted two men.

One was a black man of modest height, sporting a head full of short dreadlocks. A streak of silver slashed across several strands of his locks, and yet he didn't look that old to have them naturally. He was perhaps in his late twenties, early thirties. Shay thought, reasonably on the spot, that he must have had a dye job recently for the affects. A pale scar ran along the side of the man's neck, right along the lateral line of the carotid. It was paler in comparison to the rest of his exposed flesh, and it immediately drew the eye from most everything else. He sported a simple pair of blue jeans with a plain black shirt just tight enough to accentuate his lean frame. A pair of white Doc Martens completed his humble outfit.

His companion looked Hispanic and was barely any taller, his hair shaggier and grizzled in appearance. He wore a slightly baggy black-and-white windbreaker—perfect for the inevitable cold front of the stormy clouds. It was zipped up tight, bunched in around the hem of his olive-green cargo pants. A modest pair of sneakers topped off his outfit. When he craned his head to glance back outside, Shay could make out that he was missing an ear. The scarred tissue looked old and faded and as though it had been burned off, yet it was still glaringly obvious under the fluorescent lighting.

The pair didn't take long in approaching the register. The Hispanic man simply nodded his acknowledgment to her, while the black man leaned on the counter, flashing a chipper smile Shay's way. Shay cleared her throat, her customer service smile plastered on.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. How may I help you?"

"It's a lot better in here and not all gloomy like it is outside. And good afternoon to you, beautiful, how are you doing today?"

"I'm…I'm fine, thank you for asking. Glad that you're seeing the silver lining in a day like today."

His smile didn't waver, and at first, Shay simply let herself drink in his facial architecture, to appreciate it. His face was lean, accented by a thin and very maintained goatee. His eyes were nearly as clear and bright as honey. It was a striking contrast that complemented against his umber-dark skin. The definition of his body was enough to allude to the conclusion that he was in great shape.

All in all, it did all boiled down to the conclusion that he was a rather handsome man.

His companion was handsome in his own way as well.

His jawline was squarer in frame, but it was strong, and clean-shaven, with the barest hint of a five o'clock shadow traced along the contours of his cheeks. The complexion of his skin was lighter in comparison, closer to teak and his eyes were so dark, they almost appeared black. He was broader in his upper frame, while at the hips, he tapered to a slimmer fit.

There was undoubtedly a kind of animal magnetism they both seemed to exude in their own way.

And yet…there was something unsettling. An instinctual part of her remained unnerved and it wasn't something she liked feeling. It leaned further into the realm of "run away" the longer she remained in their presence. It was just like the same unsettling notion she felt whenever she was in close proximity to Andrei. Somewhere deep inside her primordial lizard brain, there were klaxons screaming "danger" over and over and over again. It was uncomfortable just how deep it went, very nearly making her want to purge her stomach of its contents. She never felt this way around most people.

The chattier of the two men flashed his smile her way, unrelenting in his cheerful disposition. "I know that you haven't asked yet, but my name's Tyler. However, I think I'll make an exception and let you call me Ty. And this tall silent guy is Manny. What's your name, sweetheart?"

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and began to rise, even when it wasn't all that cold inside. It wasn't just discomfort that began to grow tangled roots inside her ribcage, twining around her chest cavity. It was a sudden flash of annoyance at the condescending undertone he spoke to her in.

"Shay," she replied stiffly, careful to keep her face neutral. "Was there something I could help you with?"

"Uhhh, yeah. Sorry, I just like to make a personal connection with someone when they're about to help me out, ya know?"

Manny shifted in his stance, and it drew Shay's attention briefly. He didn't meet her gaze directly, but she saw his eyes flick in her direction for a split second.

Unhindered, Ty pushed on, unaware of her hesitation to take the bait he'd laid out for her.

"I think we might have a shared acquaintance. Tall Russian dude that goes by Andrei, white hair, doesn't talk very much."

Shay stiffened but said nothing. Instead, she gave a firm, curt nod to him.

"He has been in here several times before in the last week, yes."

A light went off in Ty's eyes at Shay's concurring recognition and pushed on with a flash of excitement going off in his eyes.

"Here's the thing, Miss—I can call you Miss, can't I? Miss Shay, our friend Andrei—he's a man of few words. Prefers to show rather than tell. But man, I gotta tell you, he couldn't stop talking about this pretty little lady that works out in Whitefish at an art gallery. Not very many out here, I can tell you that much."

"Which one? Pretty ladies or pretty art galleries?"

Ty's laugh was rich and deep, another kind of amused light flaring inside his eyes and spreading out across his face. Around the rims of his iris forming a near-perfect circle, Shay could make out a ring of rich copper. The first thought that ghosted across her head was Kaiser-Fleischer rings, a telling sign of Wilson's Disease.

Thank you, Dr. House. I'm not in the medical profession, but somehow that particular symptom has stuck itself like tar to my brainpan.

She decidedly chose to ignore all that in lieu of continuing—and possibly even ending—this entire interaction.

"To be honest, I couldn't tell with Andrei either way, so why don't we say it was both, hmm?"

Shay rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. And there was the first shoe being dropped. Her bristling instincts had been right. She could finally pinpoint why he annoyed and alarmed her. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, he spoke to her like a car salesman, trying to both flatter and bamboozle her with all his schmoozing.

"Oh, please. Look, I don't mind y'all being here, but if you're both here to just heap unsolicited commentary, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. If you aim to buy a painting, however, I'd be more than happy to help y'all out. So, which is it going to be?"

That drew a rather lengthy silence from both men. Neither spoke, clamming up effectively the moment Shay let her words fly free. Tyler's smile faltered, cracked, and in his bright eyes, she saw something akin to irascibility flare in them. That was either good or it didn't bode well for her. Definitely taking the long way home today.

Manny exchanged a look with his companion, remaining silent as he had for the entire interaction. Shay didn't expect anything more from him other than reticence. Tyler finally seemed to have gathered his wits and his words before trying at a different angle on the matter at hand.

His smile was now cagey in response, the good humour previously reflected in his eyes turning dim, unresponsive. "I'm sorry, was I being too pushy? Wasn't my intention. It's just that Andrei is an old pal of ours, and he rarely talks up a storm, unless it's for a good reason. He kept hyping up this pretty little thing that was showing him all these pretty little paintings in town. I finally had to come out and see it all for myself. Manny here had some errands to run, so we carpooled."

There it was. The last shoe had finally dropped. Shay fought against the kneejerk response to shut down and find an excuse to flee to the back. Ty smiled expectantly at her; a crescent of white displayed against his dark complexion. He pushed back off the counter, spread his arms and brought them in swiftly to clap his hands together.

"Like I said, Andrei was also talking up about these lovely paintings, and I gotta hand it to him. They really are something. Aren't they, Manny?"

Manny gave a curt nod, not breaking his silence. Ty lightly smacked him in the chest with the back of his hand as he laughed. It was rich and boisterous, genuine in its humour.

"Just like Andrei, Manny's not much of a talker, so I have to make up for it by talking enough for the three of us! So, would you come out here with the rest of us on the gallery floor and show us some of the paintings you were taking Andrei around to?"

His smile remained plastered on as his hand created the "come hither" motion. Reluctantly, she did so, unable to shake the same prickling sensation that grabbed hold of her spine and refused to let go.

When Ty reached out and wrapped an arm around across her shoulders, a sudden and electric jolt ripped across her flesh, shortly followed by a wave of static tingling that lingered longer still.

Neither of the men seemed to notice. If they had, they said nothing.

Shay tried to inconspicuously wriggle free, but the man's arm flexed and kept her in his grip. She dug in her heels the moment she felt his hand reflexively tighten on her shoulders to try and drag her along.

"Get your hand off me, or I'll rip it off and beat you with it." She growled. Tyler pulled away, his hands raised in a show of surrender. It seemed a mockery of consent, the way he flashed a grin at her. Manny moved closer behind Tyler, looming like the pillar of a human being he was.

"No need to get violent. Just say the word, pretty lady, and we'll leave if you can't handle a little friendliness."

"What's going on out here?"

Relief swelled in the pit of her chest, lessening the pressure that gripped her insides. It turned to abject horror a split second later when she realized who's snippy voice it belonged to.

Oh, fuck me.

Peter came striding into the gallery's main wing, his face pinched in aggravation. She saw his dark blue eyes flick her way for only a split second, but the hard glint in them made her heart flutter anxiously.

He turned to the two men before Shay could even open her mouth. He jerked his head, motioning toward the back office. Without missing a beat, he waved a hand over, drawing the two men's attention to him. He flashed them a tight smile. Shay stood for a good, long, surreal ten seconds. She could no longer feel her body; everything went cold and numb.

Georgina appeared beside her, seemingly out of nowhere all of a sudden. She scratched her manicured nails between Shay's shoulder blades, sending a pleasant chill down her spine.

"What happened out here? Peter looked livid on his way out from the back office."

Shay pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head.

"Those two dickheads with Peter. One them got a little handsy and I told him off. And of course, Peter was right there, at the wrong time, again." Shay sighed in disgust. Georgina patted her smaller friend on the shoulder and began guiding her toward the back office. "He's always around, waiting to pounce on me the second I do one little thing wrong. But he's never around when I'm doing my job right and seems to believe me incapable of doing actual work. He always gives me the crap job—and Thomas is the freakin' newbie! Peter gives the kid more responsibility than me half the time. He's the baby of this outfit! He makes way more mistakes than I do. Don't you remember like, a month back? Huh? With the Beckman painting of-of—what was it—the Badlands? I've never made a mistake like that here—never."

George listened quietly, giving Shay a few more comforting pats on the back. At the end of Shay's tirade, George sighed and gave her a final pat.

"I know all that, chickadee, I see it too often myself. But between just the two of us? Peter's word doesn't mean much with Julian like mine does. As far as he's concerned, Peter's only got that manager title because he's more aggressive about it." She gently slapped her knuckles against Shay's shoulder. "Trust me. He ain't gonna fire you, not while I'm around, and definitely not without my concurrent approval. There's a reason Jules set things up like that."

"Wait—seriously? I…actually didn't really know that." Shay blinked in surprise at Georgina. George, in return, grinned wickedly and winked. She pushed the back office door open and ushered Shay inside. With a click of the door behind them both, the sounds of the soft gallery music and murmur of the small pockets of people was muted considerably.

"Peter's too hot-headed at times with his aggressive-ass attitude. Think of it like checks and balances. I'm the calm one that's meant to rein him in when he needs to be. Not to mention, I think Chelsea should get the boot, if anything. That girl's always coming up with excuses to not come in, and Peter just lets it happen, gives her the benefit of the doubt all the damn time. I mean, c'mon now."

There wasn't much wrong with Chelsea, per say, and they both knew it. But their coworker was a bit lackadaisical and flaky when it came to actually showing up at work. She wasn't committed to it in the least, and it grated on Shay's nerves. Hell, even Thomas and Georgina have made note of it on a number of occasions. And Shay, well…she was the one who usually had to shoulder Chelsea's shifts when the woman was a no-show. Georgina has been a boon at her side, deflecting Peter's attempts at trying to nix Shay off the pay roll. It was a damn good thing she had her insurance handy, in case if things went way down south.

And if my kids get sick, too bad! Make my semi-retired parents, who already have their own shit to deal with, take care of them. But Chelsea, oh noooooo. She has to have the day off to care for her kids—it's imperative that she does the child-rearing, even though she's got a goddamned husband to help out with them. Fuck me, though, right? Fuck my kids and my single parent ass, right? God, this dickhead makes my ex's ex-boss seem like a delight to be around. Ugh, I really do have a chip in my shoulder.

"Thinking about your kids again, aren't you?"

Shay rolled her eyes, only moderately annoyed at the Cheshire grin directed at her. Mostly, though, she also knew it wasn't hard to figure out what she was thinking about. "Yes. I'll refrain from complaining about it."

"Thank god for that." Georgina replied, earning a half-hearted glare from the small woman. "Look, just…sit tight back here for a few minutes, I'll deflect Peter for the time being."

The smaller woman sagged into the only chair in the room and sighed with potent respite. She smiled up at Georgina, tension gradually eking out of her.

"Thanks, George. For…everything, you know? For looking for me, and all that. I mean it. I just…feel kind of useless sometimes. Because as much as I want to tell Peter to fuck off to his face…I can't afford to lose this job. I literally can't."

Georgina let a chuckle burble out of her, waving glibly at Shay. "Don't sweat it, honey. I'm one of your bosses. It's my job. But!" She pointed at Shay with her index finger. "I'm also your friend. I don't mind throwing my weight around just a little bit. Peter seriously does need to be knocked down a notch or three."

With that said, Georgina turned away with a grin on her face, and exited the back office.

OoOoOoOoOoO