Chapter Six:
Feldspar
"respect, awareness"
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"The most human thing we can do is comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable."
— Clarence Darrow
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The strange little dance around routine began to solidify into a concrete foundation of normalcy. Shay got up early in the mornings, and tended to the chickens, the horses, the goats, the dogs, the cats. She worked quickly so that she could make breakfast for the kids first, the brothers second. She moved with purpose as she did so, and she wasn't the only one. Leonardo seemed to get up at least half an hour sooner than her, and for the last few days, he would accompany her to the chicken coop and then to the barn to help tend to the rest of the animals.
It was an unspoken routine they somehow unanimously agreed to. It was a nice sentiment, knowing that even after a rocky start, things could be smoothed out between herself and the brothers. Plus, she was big enough to admit that Leo was welcome company and help in the mornings.
Many hands made light work and all that jazz.
After all the early morning chores were completed, the two of them would return to the house. Shay would dive into Mom-Mode shortly after and wake her kids up. She hurried them on their way and rushed to cook a quick breakfast for them. Once they were finished, she'd usher them out the door and walk them to the bus stop.
It was on her trek back to the house that her phone began buzzing with an incoming call. She groaned, seeing the caller ID on the screen. It was her boss. She cleared her throat and poked the answer button, slowing to a stop as she lifted the phone to her ear.
"Hello, Peter."
"I need you to come in today. Thomas is out sick with a cold, and Georgina had to take her mother to the hospital last night. Did she call you at all?"
"O-oh. Um, no. No, she hasn't gotten in touch with me—"
"Typical. Look, I expect you to be here in an hour to open the gallery, you hear me? And don't screw it up."
"Wait, today's my day off, can't you get Chelsea—"
"I didn't call Chelsea, I called you. Unless you want to be out of a job, I suggest you get your ass here on time. If you aren't, I'll assume it's your way of saying you quit."
Peter hung up before Shay could protest or ask any further questions. She scowled at her screen and gruffly stuffed it back into her jeans pocket.
"ASSHOLE!"
Peter has never liked Shay. He's made that abundantly clear to her from the first day after she was hired. She suspected that he deeply disdained her, and after their first meeting, she couldn't figure out why.
It took nearly six months into the job for Shay to hear how and why he seemed to hate her guts. In typical fashion, it had come from several outside, third-and-fourth hand accounts. As she pieced together the puzzle, it all clicked on like a light in her head.
He loathed that she was a Marine, to put it simply. It was a classic example of Occom's Razor: the simplest explanation often provided the easiest answer. Shay doubted was a matter of him being army and hating her for being a Marine. However, she highly doubted it was that clear cut, even if she wished it were the case. There were layers to Peter's scorn for her.
Nobody can hate a veteran like other fellow veterans.
And for the last two years, Shay knew he'd been looking for any excuse to cut her loose. He nearly succeeded four separate times, based on fabricated reasons or by attempting to overwhelm her so completely that she'd miss something or mess up something.
It made working in the art gallery a near-constant source of stress. Georgina, thankfully, usually served as the peacekeeping buffer between Peter and herself, and it was rare she was ever gone. She was the cushion that kept Peter distracted so that Shay could do her job unhindered. It also helped that Georgina was the assistant manager, just a step below Peter's position, and her word carried more weight with the actual owner of the gallery. She had enough sway to veto Peter's skullduggery in trying to fire Shay.
Shay swiped to unlock the screen as she started walking back toward the house. She double-checked her text messages and her phone calls but found no evidence of Georgina trying to get ahold of her. Picking up her pace, she dialed Georgina's name in, and Shay clicked the option to call her. It rang twice before a groggy voice answered her with a sniffle.
"Hey, sweetie. I'm guessing Peter called you instead of someone else."
Shay could hear the tinny sounds of a hospital working in the background. Pages on an intercom; phones ringing; murmuring voices; machines beeping. Shay could practically taste the disinfectant and bleach, feel it filling her lungs and lingering there, like a bad taste at the back of her throat. It reminded her of the last days her grandmother had spent before passing away in her sleep.
"You know he has it in for me."
"He's a dick, don't let him push you around."
"I don't let anyone do anything to me. He's the one who's hostile toward me. I just exist and he hates my guts."
"All right, all right. I don't want to argue." Georgina sighed, and Shay could detect the sheer exhaustion in her voice. She cringed, deciding now wasn't the time nor the place.
"Sorry, George," Shay replied back, air gushing out past her lips. "Peter said your mom had to be taken to the hospital. Is she okay?"
"Not really," Georgina said, her voice cracking in the middle. "She, uh…she…wasn't responding to me or the nurse when we tried to get her to take her evening shower last night. We're not sure what happened, but she's been stabilized. The doctors want to keep her here for a few days to be observed, just in case. They might even have to change her meds again. I can't just leave her."
"Jesus. No, it's okay, you're fine. I…I understand. Oh…what about that experimental trial you've been waiting to hear back from? It's been almost three or four months since you applied, hasn't it?"
"Six," Georgina corrected. Shay winced and sucked in a sharp breath between clenched teeth. "And I've got it on my to-do list today to call and find out if they're still moving forward with it. It looked promising enough during clinical lab trials. Now we're just waiting for them to move onto human trials, but they've moved the projected trial start date at least twice now."
"Fuck, dude. I really hope they get back to you soon. Well, just—keep me informed. If you need me to take a shift or two of yours, I can do that. A-and if you need anything, I can run out and grab it. Just hit me up, day or night."
"I'm hoping for the same too and I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll be fine for right now. What about you? You sure you ain't gonna kill Peter if you do take my shifts?"
Shay laughed as she mounted the porch steps. There was Georgina's glib sense of humour. It was a relief to hear it hadn't gone out completely in light of things.
"I can take Peter's bitchery for a few days, but if he keeps being a colossal dick, I might just have to beat the shit out of him."
"Hmph. It'd serve him right if someone just decked him, but I'd rather not have to see you get arrested by Terry just days after you finally got those Polks."
"You heard?"
"Who hasn't by now? Word spreads fast at the local watering hole. Not to mention, you need this job. Your second one doesn't pay nearly as much."
Dallas probably running his mouth again. I swear, that boy don't think…
Shay rolled her eyes as she slipped inside the house, nudging the door shut behind her with the heel of her booted foot.
"Okay, well, since I now have to work today, I'd better get going. Just keep me updated. Oh, and tell your mom I hope that she feels better."
"Will do, chickadee. I'll talk to you later."
The line cut out after that. Shay heaved a weary sigh.
"Is everything all right, Shay?"
Shay pocketed her phone and turned to the speaker. She shook her head at Leonardo as she began gathering up her hair back to tie it back. "Not really, no. My friend's mother was taken to the hospital last night. She has Huntington's and it's been getting worse over the last couple of years. I'm taking her shift for a few days."
"Who has Huntington's?" Came another voice. Donatello popped his head out from the rec room, surprising her by his sudden appearance.
"My, uh, my friend's mother. She's in the hospital right now and my boss just called me to take her shift. He knows today's my day off, and yet, he didn't even bother with checking on my other co-workers." Shay clenched her jaw and shook her head. "You know what? It doesn't matter now, I just…gotta get ready. Y'all will be okay, right?"
"We'll be fine. We'll hold down the fort." Leonardo answered, offering a slight tip of his head to her.
"Okay, thank you. And the kids should be coming home around two-thirty or three, that's when their bus drops them off, since my mom isn't picking them up today. Korra's got a key to get in. Crap, what else…"
Leonardo cut through her bubbling thoughts with a firm hand on her shoulder. He coaxed her forward and she decided it wasn't worth resisting.
"Go to work, we'll keep an eye on things here and make sure the kids come home safe and sound from the bus stop." Leonardo emphasized more sternly. He steered her away from the front door, shifting his hand between her shoulders with the gentlest of nudges. Donatello gave her a wave as she reluctantly slipped away to the stairs, reluctance pressed against the soles of her feet with every step she took.
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"Almost hoping you'd decide to stay home."
"Oh, I'm sure you were. But too bad I didn't feel like it. Good to see you too, Peter," Shay replied flatly and without enthusiasm at the sight of her boss. He was nearly as short as she was, but what he lacked in height he more than made up with a lean, muscled frame. His hair was virtually nonexistent, being both the palest hue of blond and shaved down to a quarter of an inch. Shay would admit only to herself that it was a very nice high and tight that any male Marine would be envious of.
But she could also tell he was beginning to bald, judging by the perpetual blank patch front and center just above his forehead. It was in similar fashion to her ex-husband.
Peter McClellan had, once upon a time, been a dedicated drill sergeant for the army. He worked that job for eight of his twelve years of service but had to be medically discharged for a broken back that he never quite recovered from.
He's had a chip on his shoulder ever since.
The moment he found out Shay was a Marine after Georgina hired her to work in the local art gallery, he'd been nothing short of hostile toward her. He was less sympathetic with her own debilitation and back problems. In his eyes, she was a shit-bird of a person faking pain for sympathy and attention. It puzzled her even further when he spoke down to her, like she was an especially dull child or a particularly stupid recruit.
Then there were the times he's more than once prevented her from attending to a doctor's appointment at the VA hospital—even if it pertained to refills for her medications. Shay had to wonder if it wasn't just a broken back he was medically discharged for.
Just get through the day. Just get through this shift and give me the strength to not punch my psycho boss's lights out.
It was a mantra that played inside her head as she went through the motions for the next several hours. Tourist season was rising to meet up with the summer season. Packs of people milled around downtown Whitefish, perfectly content to trek along the sidewalks instead of driving everywhere. Every once in a while, she'd give her phone a glance as well to check email, texts, and most importantly of all: the time. For the rest of the time, Shay kept one eye on her fishbowl point of view to the outside world, and the other occasionally scanning patrons inside the art gallery.
Most paintings had been created by local artists, while others hailed from other areas of the state. One that she hoped to have a copy in her house one day was a lovely painting of Glacier National Park. Its main focus was of the majestic mountain vistas, sparing pieces of ancient glacial ice still clinging to them, even thousands of years after the fact. A blanket of emerald pines coated in a dusting of a fiery sunset's rays lit the rolling valleys beneath the stone behemoths. It all ended at a crystalline blue lake at the edge of the painting. And it was available for purchase at the low, low price of three thousand dollars and some change and tax.
Shay thought it seemed like a steep price to pay for it. Yet people would pay for it. She knew she didn't have much of a leg to stand on to snub her nose at it, however. How can I judge when I paid twelve-hundred bucks for that stuffed mountain lion back home?
Besides…people on vacation liked to splurge. It was normal to give in to the temptation and to spend oodles of money on souvenirs to haul back home.
Shay shifted her gaze from outside and once more began scanning the gallery. Everything appeared fine at first. It was a little slow, and most of the people were simply browsers looking to kill time and get out of the summer heat. But upon her second glance, something didn't feel quite right. It took her almost no time at all to figure it out.
A man was staring at her. His body faced a painting and was partially hidden by a freestanding display wall, but his head was craned in her direction. She couldn't see what colour his eyes were. All she knew was that they were light enough to nearly blend with the whites. His hair appeared almost silvery and was shaved down to a kempt buzzcut while his face was clean shaven. He was dressed in a simple pair of blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt that accentuated his buff frame. And even at a distance, she could see that he was nearly six feet tall, and probably wasn't a day over thirty. She'd be plenty surprised if he was. She would admit he was rather handsome, but his looks were completely skewed and off-putting by his intense staring.
Shay tore her eyes from his, although she still felt his gaze on her, burning holes into the side of her head. She fussed at the front desk, shuffling papers into separate piles or folders, trying to look as busy as possible. Shay slid them atop a small red moleskin notebook with a well-worn cover, the spine creased from being opened and shut often. A number of stickers decorated its front and back, humorous quotes from the show Archer aplenty. She began lining up a trio of pens by height when a large hand came into view and patted the desk gently in front of her. Shay jumped out of shock and found her stomach had vacated the premises from the sudden intrusion.
His eyes were blue. Bright, pale, glittering blue. They reminded her of ice reflecting the glare of a wintery sun on a clear day. Just the thought of snow and the cold made her shiver as a sudden chill spread out from her spine and crept across her flesh. Her skin pimpled and she shuddered a final time. Shay finally remembered how to speak at last, even when her tongue clearly didn't want to cooperate.
"Um…can I help you, sir?"
The man blinked slowly at her, then motioned to where he had been standing a minute ago.
"How do you say…is artist? Who?"
It took Shay's brain a few extra seconds to catch up and translate what he'd just said. His voice was deep and low and quiet, and his accent was thick. She wanted to say Slavik, perhaps narrowed down to him being Russian.
"Which—ahem. Which painting was it that you were looking at, sir?"
"Come, come. Follow, miss."
He pronounced 'miss' with a long 'ee' dragged out, while the 's' at the end sounded closer to a 'z' enunciation. He motioned for her to come around. Slowly, Shay sidestepped the register desk, and followed after him. She caught a whiff of cologne wafting from the man. It was a subtle yet telling scent and she couldn't help but feel it was probably on the expensive side.
However, her ex hardly ever wore cologne, so who was she to judge? She couldn't tell the difference between the cheap or expensive brands to save her life.
The man came to a short halt beside the freestanding wall and motioned with a tilt of his head toward the painting there.
"This painting. Who is artist?"
Shay followed his ice-like gaze and took a step back to review.
"Oh," she breathed out, a hint of a smile tugging gently at the edges of her lips. Pale, cool shadows spread across the snow and they contrasted quite drastically from the snow that was alit by the sunlight. The lighting alone captured the quiet serenity and loneliness of the scene, as the viewer could just peer past a gap in the foreground dominated by snow-streaked trees and bushes. This small window showed a hint of the distant mountain range, looking just as misty and icy. "I like this one a lot. The artist is, um…what's his name…oh! It's Al Feldstein, he's the artist, and this piece is called 'Snowlight in Montana'."
"And is price?"
"About five grand even, but I'd have to double-check with the roster."
"Beautiful lighting, da?"
Perhaps one of three whole words she knew of Russian and it was the easiest to remember.
"Y…Yes. I think so too. It's almost comparable to the real deal, if you're ever there in person. If you don't pay too much attention, it could almost be mistaken for a photograph."
"I can say same. I am from small village in Russia, but joined Russian Armed Forces for…what is word? Dozen years. We have long winters, bitter cold. Made training difficult. Made us stronger."
Slowly, she mentally went over his words as she patiently parsed through his accent, and they came out on the other side of understanding. She nodded a few times. "I can only imagine twelve years in the military. I only did eight, and I never had to train in the snow, not really."
"You are military?"
"Once upon a time. I've been out for quite a while now."
She managed to avoid his gaze directly, but she had a strong suspicion that he wasn't staring at the painting as intently as he was her. Shay cleared her throat as she returned to admiring the painting, trying to push through her unease.
"Were you interested in buying the painting, sir?"
"Andrei. My name is Andrei Medvedev." He repeated the name slowly, and Shay slowly curled her tongue around the syllables as she sounded them out herself. He corrected her only once and offered a thin smile when she seemed to get it the second time.
"Not yet decided on painting. But I come back later for verdict." His nose crinkled as he struggled with the 'v' in verdict, and it came out sounding like 'werdict' instead. Shay would have found it endearing…if he didn't creep her out so much. Andrei seemingly didn't need to blink and that was yet another tally mark to the list of creepiness in her head.
Andrei dipped his head at her and with a low rumbling goodbye, he left the art gallery just as quickly as he had suddenly appeared in it. With him went the unsettling chill that had engulfed her entire body the moment she had caught sight of him staring back at her.
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Andrei Medvedev came back the next day, but instead of the Snowlight painting, he asked about another. Shay gave him a short breakdown of the painting's history and artist. He spoke a little more about himself. He was only two years older than her, unmarried, childless—his military career had been his priority over any of his personal desires. He once had a younger brother, but he had passed away sometime last year. Andrei didn't elaborate on how, only that it had been very sudden. His parents were still alive, and still living in the small village he had been born in.
Andrei would also ask a few questions about her. He didn't pry when she was clearly reluctant or uncomfortable to part with any information. He simply moved on to broader questions that could be deemed neutral.
The encounters lasted only minutes, maybe ten to fifteen at the very most. Andrei would then leave just as peacefully as he had arrived. This routine continued for four more days. Each day, he was always polite as he conversed with her. And each day, he didn't buy a painting.
Peter grew angrier with each day as the time passed and that she hadn't closed a single sale with the man. "If you waste any more time on him, you can forget about any days off for the rest of the month! And no overtime either, so don't get cute with me, Leif."
She hated the way he addressed her legal last name. His lips would peel back and he practically bared his teeth in a snarl at her. Like he was trying his damnedest to mock her using the same intimidation tactics he probably used on his recruits in the past. She was all too familiar with how those mind games were played, however. It did little to intimidate her. Shay was more terrified of the female drill instructors than she ever was of the males. The women were more frightening to her than any male.
This threat of canceling out her days off and her overtime, though? It was the only reason she chose not to say anything, to bite her tongue instead.
So far in the last few days, he's already nixed a week's worth days off and had her working double-shifts at the gallery. He claimed it was to allow Thomas to recover, Georgina to care for her ill mother, and Chelsea to…well, Shay didn't really know why he wasn't calling Chelsea in at all, but Shay had her suspicions. Georgina was betting it had to do with him "wanting to bang her into next Tuesday". Frankly, Shay wouldn't be surprised if that really was case, and it only fed her ire.
Shay was practically doing everyone's work, and Peter was simply waiting for the perfect moment to fall upon her, much like an eagle felling a rabbit or even a deer.
Peter had no immediate nor extended family to care for or visit, no marriage or relationships, and neither did he have any kids to go home to. He honestly had no life and was perfectly content to make sure she didn't have one either—even if Shay had kids waiting at home for her to take care of. He would always cite her parents as a source of infinite childcare, as if they didn't have their own work or lives to tend to. She also felt mortified with tasking the turtle brothers to watch her kids when they got home after school, frankly.
At the end of each day, all her pent-up frustration would fade and relief filled up the hole it left behind. The drive back home was also another great source to unwind, but hugging her kids would be the cherry on top of everything else.
She chose to take the longer route to get back to the house, wanting to take in a little bit of beauty of the day she didn't get to spend outside. All that and more.
She was barely out of Whitefish when her phone began to ring. Without missing a beat, Shay hit the answer button on her steering wheel. Georgina's voice lilted out of the speakers.
"Hey chickadee. Just checking up on you, making sure you didn't do anything stupid today. Like punching your boss's lights outs."
Shay snorted loudly and fell into a giggling fit.
"Oh, I wish, dude. I fucking wish. But you know how it goes. It's Peter just being Peter. You know all the drama between us."
"If you didn't hate him so much and he didn't hate you—and he wasn't practically in puppy-crush mode with Chelsea—you two could actually be a power couple."
Shay mocked gagging and did it long and loudly at length.
"Satan's balls, are you kidding me? I don't need that mess in my life, hell to the motherfucking no. George, you should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking that insidious thought!"
She could practically hear Georgina's eyes rolling heavenward.
"I still say he just needs someone to screw around with for him to get off your case. Guy seems like he's one step away from exploding into a mess of testosterone-y goo."
"Ugh, gross. Now I have that nasty cum-splosion of a thought in my head. Thanks for that. But I have to agree. He's practically on the edge of a major meltdown and I hope I'm not in his direct line of sight when—not if—that happens. He'd probably be a lot easier to tolerate if he could just get some, relieve some of that stress he subjects everyone and himself to. If only he wasn't not-so-secretly pining for a married woman with kids. Otherwise, they'd be a perfect match for each other."
"Can't win them all, I suppose. And hey, thanks for covering for me the last few days. My mom's doing better, and she should be discharged later tonight. Hopefully Peter hasn't been that big of a bag of dicks to you while you were on your own with him."
"I managed just fine." It was a white lie. He was always crawling up her ass about every little detail if she didn't do it just right. If anything was off by even a miniscule margin, it was a massive failure. Those moments often led to him yanking her into the back office and having a complete meltdown beyond the sight and ears of the browsing customers. On top of all that, he wasn't above punishing her in similar fashion to her old superiors from her first duty station. He had her working every job in the gallery this week—customer service, register, back room stock, invoice care, cleaning, and anything else in between.
It didn't help things all that much when Peter would constantly moving the goalposts. If she was manning the register, he would complain she wasn't out on the floor. If she was helping a customer, he'd be breathing down her neck with malice and scorn if she wasn't at the register at all times. It was an endless litany of fuck-fuck get-back games.
I didn't get out of the fucking military just to come out into the civilian world getting fucked over by another veteran. He is the biggest Blue Falcon in the goddamn town…
She didn't want Georgina to worry about all of that, however. Shay's friend had enough on her plate to be concerned with. She was simply grateful that the day was over with and she could go home to some peace and quiet.
"Great to hear. Oh hey, by the way, did that creepy guy come by the gallery again?"
Shay glanced at her truck's dash to check the clock, then flicked them back up just in time to see a deer trying to cross the road. She managed to slow down long before hitting the animal and honked the car horn. The deer quickly scuttled the rest of the way and disappeared into the woods. Shay pressed her foot on the gas pedal when it was safe.
"What's going on? Is everything okay?" Georgina's voice grew high with concern.
"Deer in the road."
"Oof. Careful with those, don't want to damage your truck. So, about that guy. Is he really all that creepy as you're making him out to be or are you just afraid to admit he's cute?"
"I have no interests in dating right now, George. I have kids and practically a whole farm to look after when I'm not at work." Shay rolled her eyes, knowing exactly where Georgina was going with the conversation.
"You have no sheep, no cows, and no pigs and you're only planting enough food for your family in that greenhouse of yours, not half the country. It's not a farm yet, chickadee. And plenty of single people with kids go on dates, it ain't that hard!"
"You sound like my Nana."
"Your Nana sounds like she was a wise woman."
"She was also kinda racist." Shay pointed out, arching a brow and failing to stifle her grin.
"I think everyone's grandmothers are all kinda racist," Georgina retaliated smoothly. "If he comes in tomorrow, point him out. Unless you already have a picture?"
There was expectancy in her voice and Shay could practically see her friend wiggling her eyebrows at her. Shay rolled her eyes.
"Ugh…I did take a picture. I just couldn't get it to send earlier, so I'll try again when I'm not driving. I am telling you, though—he's just…I have no idea. Something just feels off about the dude. I get chills around him, and not the good kind, neither. The only thing I can say is he seems to respect when I don't want to talk about something, but I dunno what he's playing at. He could be playing mind games with me for all I know. I've been taking different roads to get home just in case. I don't want him following me."
"Girl, not everyone is out to get you or wants to play…what'd you call them again? Fuck-fuck games? He could just be shy about asking you out. Ever thought about that?"
"Yes actually, I have, and he is like-like, uh, a-a stone wall. He doesn't emote. Plus, you never really know if someone is a potential stalker or serial killer. I ain't risking that bullshit when I got my kids to care about. Anyways, I'm almost home, so I'll talk to you later. And you are coming in tomorrow, aren't you, George?"
"Unfortunately," Georgina sighed dramatically on the other end before perking back up. "All right, sweetie. Talk to you later. Careful with those deer out there! Oh, and bears—there's been way too many out and about lately. It's like they're breeding at the pace of rabbits all of a sudden. It's ridiculous."
Barely five minutes after she hung up with Georgina, she was pulling up to the house. The steely tension that had her ramrod straight in her seat finally seemed to have melted away completely, as quick as ice cream on an especially broiling day. She dug her fingers into the meat of her shoulders, kneading away at the knotted muscles. The front door banged open, and out came Korra and Castiel, practically tripping over one another to get to her.
She was mobbed by the two as she got out, laughing as they fought to hug her at the same time.
"Easy, kiddos! You're gonna make me fall!"
"Mommy, can you help me get Wishbone out? I wanna hold him."
"What's for dinner? I'm sooo hungry!"
"We just had snacks, Cas," Korra responded in a snotty manner, giving her younger brother a slight glare.
"But I want something else to eat!" The six-year-old grumbled back. The two began babbling over one another at that point, trying to talk loudly over the other.
"Hey, hey, hey! Zip it! Both of you!"
They quickly fell quiet, and unwound their arms from her middle, stepping back.
"Help me with dinner. It's in the passenger seat. And we'll see about holding Wishbone, and I say that because his eyes have been looking cloudy for a while. He's due to shed any day now. That's why we haven't fed him anything. We should wait until that happens; we could have an accident if we don't."
"Yeah, he might try to eat your hand, 'cuz you smell like a chicken. Bawk-bawk!" Cas snickered, poking at his sister's shoulder.
"Out of my bubble, Cas! Mommy, did you see what he just did?" She said, following up with a huffy stomp of her foot. She quickly backed down from the glare her mother gave her in return. She turned the same look to her son, as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.
"Stay out of your sister's bubble, Castiel. And you, ya little gremlin. What did I just tell you? There's three boxes of food, grab one each, the both of you."
"What is it?" Korra asked warily, trying to peer past her mother. Shay shut the door before she could see. So much for a night of peace and quiet. Don't know why I expected it.
"Pizza."
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