I have a feeling that Gladys is about to be even more unlikable in this chap. Fully intentional on my part, btw.

Though late afternoon's sun had melted rime off bare tree branches of Dimmsdale Park, the sharp tang of cold air filled the boys' lungs in their meander along the concrete sidewalks sparkling in leftover frost. Coated in winter gear of black boots and black Terry Totter robes over their everyday wear, embroidered with crests of Gryffinsnore and Hufflesnuff respectively.

With his neck protected from the chill in a wool scarf of scarlet red and gold, Dwight dragged his feet along the paved path of the depopulated park, hands tucked in his robe's pockets. Carrying the backpack with his emergency Ativan and other anti-seizure medication as he traveled alongside his half-brother adjusting his own wool scarf of yellow and black so that it wouldn't brush against his sensitive boil.

Over the last few weeks, Dwight had been spending a lot more time with Elmer and his parents while Dwight's fathers worked their shifts of twelve hours or more; he would take the bus to Elmer's house after school and would be dropped off in the mornings on weekends, staying until his fathers' were free to pick him up on their way home. This arrangement was meant to ease his fathers' worries of Dwight being all alone in the event of bad seizures, but as Elmer glanced to his right at Dwight's hung head, Elmer felt empathetic of the sour mood that'd lasted all day. Especially after hearing the Schlatter's short argument on the way to their car after dropping their son off that morning.

Elmer and his parents did not need an explanation to see the growing tension between Dwight's fathers, and the saddened guilt that Elmer could see in Dwight's eyes told him that Dwight harbored the brunt of the blame onto himself. Moreover, Elmer knew how drained Dwight must be from three tonic-clonics suffered that day. Luckily, they were not as bad as they could have been, but even after a nap, Dwight's mood had been down in the dumps.

So, Elmer had insisted they head over to the local park, thinking some fresh air would help lift Dwight's spirits. The lack of children playing on the swings and empty benches made it the perfect, quiet getaway.

"Wanna take a little break?" Elmer suggested, pointing to the nearest bench in front of a bare tree. "We have been walking for a while."

Finding the energy to lift half-lidded eyes towards Elmer, Dwight murmured "Sure…"

As they veered off the paved path onto the damp crunch of cold grass, Dwight rolled the sleeve of his robe, looking to the dark-teal medic alert bracelet that had become his godfather's new outdoor disguise. "I wish we had a blanket." he wished softly, figuring the bench will likely be too cold to sit on without something to warm their bottoms.

Ensuring dark-teal sparkles were out of Elmer's sight, Irving's wand conjured a cream-wool quilt inside Dwight's backpack in the subtle ting of a 'poof,' prompting Dwight to remove one of the straps from his shoulder.

"Brought a blanket, just in case…" Dwight droned, unzipping his backpack to pull out his wish.

"Oh, cool! Thanks." Elmer acknowledged, accepting the blanket as they approached the bench. He folded the blanket in half to flatten along the length of the wood grain surface, and as Dwight fully removed his backpack to lean against the bench's leg, the two four-eyes took their seats facing the deserted playground opposite of them across the paved path.

Sitting in their own silence for a moment, Elmer then looked once more to his right to check in with Dwight. "How're you feeling?"

Dwight responded with a dull shrug, hunched with arms crossed over his lap and weary gaze downcast to his boots. Elmer puckered his brow contemplatively; he knew his parents had told him not to mention anything to Dwight until the matter has been discussed with his fathers. However, underneath his fatigue, it was evident that Dwight carried a burdensome boulder on his shoulders. He held so much guilt in his heart, and Elmer wanted to cheer him up somehow.

"…wanna know why my mom and dad wanna talk to your dads after they get off work?"

Raising glum eyes to Elmer, Dwight weakly shook his head.

"My parents are gonna talk to your dads about moving into the basement that they'd recently finished renovating."

Puzzled, Dwight faintly furrowed "…why?"

"To try and help with financial burdens." Elmer replied, repeating his parents' thought process. "If your dads can rent out your house, that income could go towards all your medical stuff so they won't have to work as much."

"…I meant why would your folks want us to move in?" Dwight specified.

"Because you guys are family." Elmer offered an earnest grin. "Plus, at this point, you're over at my house more than your own. It just makes sense for you to stay fulltime."

The twelve-year-old diverted his eyes, tight lips frowning. First was his fathers' going to bed angry, sleeping separately. Showing no affection other than yelling at each other. And now Brad and Dee feel obligated to make accommodations and sacrifice their normal routine. All because of him and his godforsaken seizures…

Other sets of footsteps creaking along the pavement caught their ears, indicating that they were no longer the only visitors of the park. Dwight and Elmer turn towards the sight of a lanky boy with poor vision traveling alongside a tall woman presumed to be his mother, the woman carrying a Great Grey with turquoise eyes by the cage's handle.

Elmer audibly gaped in disbelief, and Dwight gave him a quizzical glance. "What is it?"

Elmer leaned towards Dwight, keeping his voice down despite his astonishment. "That kid looks exactly like my elementary teacher!"

Curious, Dwight shot another glance at the boy's black gloves reaching into his own backpack, pulling out a blanket and spreading it across the bench seat for him and his mother as his mother held the owl cage.

"…no way Mr. Crocker's hiding a kid…"

Dwight looked back to Elmer's assumption with an arched brow "…you gonna go ask?"

"What?! No way!" Elmer cringed in protest. "That'd be so weird!"

The woman pointed towards the nearest bench across the path, adjacent to the two boys that she didn't appear to notice. "Let's sit here, Kevin…"

"Okay..." Kevin frowned at the obvious tinge of sadness in his mother's tone but kept his concerns to himself as he followed her lead.

Setting the cage atop the jade quilt, Katherine took a seat to the owl's left as her son sat to her right. Slouching against the backrest, she dragged palms of her white gloves over her eyes, groaning a ragged sigh.

"…Mom?" Kevin furrowed as he observed his mother, growing more worried "…a-are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Katherine assured, yet the dejection in her monotone said otherwise.

Kevin stalled, shifting eyes uncertain before he settled on his mother propping her chin in her palm. "I-It wasn't all your fault, mom…"

There was a faint shake of denial in Katherine's head, distant eyes wilted as they stared off away from her son. She had greatly underestimated the intensity of a child's panic/anxiety disorder, and that grave lapse in professional judgement came at an unfortunate cost.

When Chloe's panic led to a loss of consciousness, Clark had rushed to catch her fall out the chair before she plummeted to the ground, and doing her best to remain cool and collected, Katherine rushed to immediately contact paramedics. In her seven years of experience, Katherine has witnessed numerous panic and anxiety attacks during sessions. Her goal was always to help her clients let the panic pass rather than try to escape it or suppress it.

Never had a patient passed out under her watch before. And when the whites of Chloe's eyes rolled back and her limbs began to flail spastically, she grew terrified for Chloe's life …

All Katherine could do was stay on the line with the 9-1-1 operator who insisted on instructing Clark to move Chloe into the recovery position and time the seizure as it ran its course. Even when the tint of Chloe's loose lips drained a ghostly blue, Clark was forbidden from giving CPR or mouth-to-mouth as long as Chloe's body continued to seize. Thankfully, by some unforeseen miracle, her breathing returned in strained gargles before the paramedics arrived, though Chloe remained comatose.

While paramedics worked to return Chloe's vitals to a stable enough state for ambulance transport, Clark's distress for his daughter expressed extreme displeasure. An earful of grievances resulted in the loss of any slither of potential for a new client.

A pitchy hoot twittered from the cage, causing Katherine and Kevin to turn towards the Great Grey's turquoise eyes. Glistening expressively as if to offer whatever solace she could.

"See? Even Bulma knows it's not all your fault…" Kevin alluded, and Katherine bunched between her brows, her jaw beginning to tremble. She could hear her own voice in her head repeat the same sentiment, but to her immense guilt, these were just empty words.

Dwight and Elmer continued to silently observe as Kevin lowered a comforting hand to his mother's knee, doing what he thought he could to console the guilt that began to water in hazel eyes. Dwight could see the tightness in her throat hold back tears with quivering lips; despite Kevin repeating that it wasn't her fault, Dwight didn't need much context to understand how the mother felt. Whether she had control or not, her actions had caused someone else's pain.

A type of shame he knew all too well…

"Hey, Wighty…" Dwight heard the low call of his dark-teal medical alert bracelet, looking down to Irving's narrowed eyes. "There's somethin' strange about that owl."

"Strange?" he whispered back. "How?"

"Look at her eyes…"

Curiosity raised Dwight's gaze to the turquoise saucers of the Great Grey, catching glittering twinkles of enchanting specs that could not be easily explained.

Walls painted in pearl-white, the fog of a forest landscape accented one wall where the headboard of the cedar twin bedframe stood, covered with a cotton duvet printed with the same foggy forest. A replica of a forest tree with its trunk merged into painted branches and leaves along one corner of the ceiling bordered with fairy lights, a built-in cedar dresser within the sculpted trunk. Fake leaves dangled from the mounted tree bark framing the sole window of the room, hardwood floors covered with rugs of artificial grass.

Gary and his godfather had isolated themselves in the safe space of his bedroom since this morning's unexpected guest had not been shooed away. In fact, against their better judgement, his grandparents had permitted Timmy's newfound half-brother to stay as long as he'd like, wishing to get to know him better. Eh, guess that's fair; Tommy seemed friendly…maybe too friendly. But that wasn't as big a concern to Gary as Alondro's uncharacteristic reaction to Tommy's canine companion.

"What was up with you and Buddy, earlier?" Gary questioned Alondro who was floating before him in his fairy form. "You seemed kinda freaked out by 'em…"

Exhaling a deep breath, Alondro gritted his jaw, gripping his wand. "You could not feel what I felt."

Gary eyed Alondro quizzically "…what did you feel?"

Alondro's broad shoulders hunched involuntarily as his insides clenched. "It was weak, yet what I could sense felt almost…godlike."

"…godlike?" Gary repeated, perplexed.

"Si." Alondro lowered icy-blues to the wand held firmly in his fist. "And it was as if Buddy seemed to know exactly who and what I am."

Still a bit lost, Gary scrunched his nose "…how?"

"It was in his eyes…" Alondro could not only recall the sense of an otherworldly aura, but he vividly remembered the ever so faint glitter within trancelike rings of brown and periwinkle-blue. "Like he could see through my disguise…"

[Hey, Gary?] Sophia entered Gary's mind. [Tommy's coming.]

"What?" Not long after did Gary hear a soft knock that prompted the fairy to transform back into a yellow retriever. A gentle push on the cedar door creaked the hinges more ajar, and Gary spotted the university Freshman peering into the room whose smile stretched ear to ear.

"Hey, kiddo. May I come in?"

Alondro leapt onto the bed to his godson's side as Gary pressed his lips with a slight frown. "Um, okay…why?"

"Just wanna talk."

"…what about your dog?"

"Don't worry; Buddy's tied up outside." Tommy assured. "I didn't want any distractions."

Gary subtly squinted "…for what?"

"So I can get to know you."

"…why?"

"Because you're my half-cousin." Tommy chuckled lightly. "Even with Mom's letters, there's just so much I still don't know about half of my existence."

"…what about the other half?" Gary softly challenged, and Tommy's smile visibly faltered.

"…that half doesn't matter." He spoke resolutely, furrowing his brows with a lowered gaze. "Just like I don't matter to him."

Gary and Alondro watched Tommy's lapse into quiet brooding, brooding that lasted as long as an unvoluntary cringe before Tommy pinched his nose bridge. Briefly squeezing his eyes shut as if shoving down emotions where he didn't need nor want to feel them, clearing his throat.

"…what about your dad?" Tommy returned his sociable tone to his voice as he lifted his chin, straightening the posture that had visibly begun to slump. "Is he not in your life?"

Wrinkling his nose, Gary slit his brow at such a dumb question "…does it look like he's in my life?"

"Hey, I'm just asking." Tommy raised hands in innocent defense. "Grandma and grandpa haven't mentioned much of him…and they don't seem to want to."

Gary grimaced, instinctively turning his head away. No…he started to shudder, sharply blinking from the scornful elm of his sperm donor's glower flickering across his vision. Feeling that dreadful tug of war among the thinning veil between past and present. Not again…n-not again…

[Breathe, Gary…]

"I-I can't…" his breaths grew ragged, clawing at his sideburns. Eyes haunted by some unseen terror. "…n-n-not again…"

The yellow retriever gave a worried glance towards his godson, knowing something was terribly wrong. It'd been quite a while since Gary last had an episode, and yet all it took was the mere implication of he who shall not be named for that switch to flip…

Tommy frowned when a stiff tremor shook in Gary's arms, noting the stress lines creasing into his forehead as his eyes grew impossibly large. Uh oh…did he inadvertently cause this? "…Gary-"

"Why the fuck would you ever wanna know about that piece of shit!?"

Tommy jolted from the ferocious bellow, a scorching blue glare shot his way. Gary then flopped onto his side, facing his back to Tommy. Curling himself into the tightest ball as the thumps in his chest ached.

"…I-I'm sorry…" Tommy breathed, twinged with instant remorse "…I didn't mean-"

"GO AWAY!"

Recalling what had worked to calm Gary during his last episode, the yellow retriever sprang into action. Putting his bodyweight on top of Gary's balled form, careful not to apply too much pressure as hitched breathes fought to slow to a normal rhythm. Panged in regret, the corner of Tommy's thin lips pulled down. Perhaps there's a good reason he's left in the dark about the uncle he'd never met…

"Vnuk?!" the frantic call of an elderly woman sounded from down the hall, Tommy whirling to the pattering footsteps fastly approaching. "Vnuk, v chem delo!?"

Before Tommy could react, the hinges creaked when Gladys pushed the door to where it bumped against the wall. Nearly shoving Tommy out of her way in her rush towards Gary's whimpers of distress. Alondro yelped in pain when Gladys aggressively yanked at his back fur without thought in her forcible attempts to tear the dog from crushing her precious grandson. Failing to understand that the yellow retriever was trying to help.

"Get off him, you stupid dog!"

"Chto v mire proiskhodit?!" Vlad questioned what in the world was happening once he arrived at the frantic scene soon after, entering the room to stand next to Tommy equally as thrown.

"I said get off!" Gladys mercilessly hoicked the yellow retriever off her grandson, tossing him in a hard pummel to the wooden floor. Adding insult to injury, she kicked a dog while it's down as he yelped louder from her avenging foot thwacking his stomach in repeated, direct hits.

"Gladys! Prekrati eto!" a boisterous growl from Vlad demanded his wife to stop her senseless violence, causing Tommy to shoot gawking eyes towards the elderly man who did not initially strike him as overly assertive.

Heeding her husband's command, Gladys backed off after a last vengeful kick, huffing to catch her breath. Glaring down at the crumpled dog squeezing his eyes as crimson-coated fangs whimpered in agony.

"…L-Londro…?" Gary breathed in gradual blinks. Agonized whines muffled through, hooking onto his cling to reality. Starting to come to his senses, wobbly arms willed himself upright, turning towards the fuzzy outlines of three other figures standing in the room. He scrubbed at his eyes to clear the blur as they fluttered, and when another pitchy whine rang clearer than the last, Gary's eyes darted the room for the source.

"Vnuk, ty v poryadke?" Gladys managed a more soothing tone, asking if her grandson was alright.

Just one peek over the bed's edge to what lay crumpled on the ground, her grandson was, in fact, not alright.

"Londro!"

Gary shot from the bed to his godfather's side, falling to his knees. Eyes trembling at the sight of blood in Alondro's fangs, he pressed a quivering palm to the side of Alondro's cheek. Lips parted in a shaking inhale when the dog's clenched eyes flinched in discomfort at the delicate touch.

"I stop him from crushing you." Gladys saw no issue telling the truth, believing her grandson would thank her for defending him.

Instead, Gary snapped a scowl so venomous, blazing murderously. Dripping with the spite that rattled in his bark. "You FUCKING HURT HIM!?"

Jaw slack in silent disbelief, the grandmother gaped. Troubled by the boom from the grandson who'd never ever spoken to her with such disrespect.

"Gary! Ty ne ispol'zuyesh' etot plokhoy yazyk!" Vlad scolded furiously; Gary knew better than to use that bad language, especially around his elders!

Gary ignored his grandfather, his blood boiling too heatedly to care. "You ALWAYS treat Timmy like some lowlife, but you're not any different!"

Vlad blanched, a breath hitched in his chest. Recognizing that cold fire burning within that blue-eyed scowl. One he had not seen since the fateful day of their twins' sixteenth birthday…

"I HATE YOU!" Rage cracked in his exasperated shriek, his patience pushed off its teetering edge. "I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

Gladys doubled back, eyes widening as they rimmed with tears. No…it can't be. It can't be the hellish ghost of their evil son coming back to haunt them…

Frozen from the sidelines flabbergasted beyond belief, Tommy's mind gears spun into overdrive. Flustered as to how things escalated to this point.

With the pale crescent moon shining in the black velvet of the night sky, Dimmsdale's upper-class all gathered inside the white marble mansion of the Fancy Schmancy Country Club, mingling in anticipation of the two extremely special gusts for that night's most prestigious event. Among the adults socializing with various luxury cocktails in hand, the Wells entertained fellow club members with painted smiles. Marcus claimed his wife with an arm around her waist, and Angela leaned close to her husband, hoping her performance of endless love for him was believable.

Huddled in her own clique by the central staircase, their eldest daughter Hillary laughed with the blue-eyed blonde dressed like a pink and white Barbie, having grown closer throughout the weeks in their shared distaste for their younger siblings. Standing near them were boys wearing matching purple and black outfits, one with straight blonde hair, and the other with an afro-textured high top. A fair distance from the group was an Asian American girl standing against the nearby wall with folded arms, her flat brow and pursed lips appearing to be disinterested in whatever Hillary and her 'best friend' were squawking on about.

Tucked away in the archway beneath the stairs, the young billionaire covered an exaggerated yawn that shook in his shoulders. Slumped in his seat on a leather bench built into the wall under the staircase, his posture betraying the weariness that had settled deep into his bones. His midday nap turned out to be utterly pointless, now more tired than before he'd slept for four hours. Then again, the string of bad dreams always made him more tired…

Propping his chin in his palms, hooded eyes spotted the purple ferret's arrival through the archway. Returning from his venturous stroll through the club upon his ahijado's wish to search for a fellow godchild. Remy would have looked for her himself, but right now, he had no energy to deal with people.

"Hazel is not here…" Juandissimo exhaled, brows weakly knitting in the middle.

"…again?" Remy murmured in slight irritation before he then dragged hands down his face with a dour groan. This was the third week in a row that Hazel had not been in attendance with the Wells at the country club, but every time he would reach out to her to inquire as to why, she was short with him…as if hiding what she thought he didn't need to know.

"Something about that does not sit well with me..." Juandissimo remarked.

"…me either." Remy agreed, making a mental note to ask her about it tomorrow. He knew for certain she wouldn't miss Tootie's birthday at Fairy Fort.

"There you are!"

Remy let his eyelids fall briefly, cringing internally at the pitter patter of his grandmother's pointy heels that stopped behind the purple ferret. She must've been on the hunt for him and caught onto Juandissimo's trail, leading her right to where part of him hoped he'd be left unfound…

"Why are you being a recluse and not tending to our guests!?" Frances appeared through the archway, hands planted to her hips.

Arching a brow, Remy responded with a low grumble "We have butlers for that."

"Buxaplentys are still the face of this club, you know that!" Frances griped. "My son should have instilled that in you, because you're far too old not to care!"

Tsk…just like you instilled in your son to care about his own freaking kid…

"The Phirman Philharmonics have arrived, so you should at least pretend to care and come greet them."

Annoyance sharply narrowed in Remy's eyes "…seriously?"

"Yes! Now come on!"

Reluctantly, Remy chose to comply. Stretching stiff muscles in his slow stand as Frances tapped her impatient toe.

"We don't have all night, y'know!"

"I'm coming!" Remy huffed, rolling his eyes as Frances strutted off in the opposite direction. Aversion flooded through his veins, looking down to his purple ferret mumbling "C'mon, Juan…"

Two butlers pulled the white double doors, revealing the sheen black coat of a Lincoln limousine rolling along the curved driveway as the operated gates drew to a close behind the back bumper. Gradually pulling up to the layered cake of steps leading to the club's entrance with the door for its two passengers halting directly in front.

Dragging his feet behind his grandparents with his purple ferret beside him, Remy and the elder Buxaplentys exited onto the club's porch, seeing the limousine driver walk across the front bumper towards the back passenger. When the driver opened the door, he offered a hand to the strawberry-blonde holding the hem of her elegant coral-pink ball gown as for her short silver heels to not step on the floor-length tulle of her skirt. Her gown's top was embroidered in a soft, pink lace with cap sleeves, a silver jewel sash sinching her waist.

As the driver assisted the girl that Remy assumed was around his age, a slender man with the same shade of hair helped himself out of the limo. Matching his daughter with a black tailored tux coupled with a coral-pink bow tie and lapel, tugging on the handles of a cello case polished in pastel-pink fiberglass.

"Good evening to you both!" Orvy was the first to greet their special guests, meeting the man of the duo at the halfway point of the steps. He extended a welcoming hand for a shake. "Orville Remy Buxaplenty III, Orvy for short. Wonderful to meet you face-to-face!"

"Likewise; it's an honor to be here!" moving ahead of his daughter, the man took advantage of the case's two shoulder straps and adjusted the instrument to hang over one shoulder, glad to shake Orvy's hand. "Michael Phirman, but you may call me Mike."

"Frances Shand Buxaplenty; it is our honor to have you tonight!" it was Frances' turn to shake Mike's hand, bright in the smile that churned Remy's stomach. She then acknowledged Mike's daughter by leaning down with hands over her thighs, a sing-song inflection in her voice. "And, you must be Missy Phirman; oh, how so pretty you are!"

"Thank you so much!" Missy beamed, appreciative of the nice compliment.

"Missy, this is our grandson. Orville Remy Buxaplenty V." Frances then introduced, pulling her pouting grandson a few steps forward with a nudging tug of his arm.

"Remy for short." Remy grumbled, snatching his arm away from her grasp. A purposefully rude gesture that dried a bitter taste in Frances's thinning mouth.

Missy traversed the couple steps, meeting him with a cheerful glimmer in hunter-green eyes. She extended her hand towards him, yet Remy's sullen stare made no effort to uncross his arms.

"Nice to meet you, Remy." Missy retracted her hand, her warm grin seemingly unbothered by his coldness. Her gaze trailed down and gawked at the purple ferret next to Remy's feet.

"Ooooooh, you have a ferret, too!" she squealed in delight, careful not to dirty her dress in her eager kneel. "I have an albino one back at home, but I've never seen a purple one!" she looked up toward Remy. "What breed is yours?"

"…um…" Shifting uncomfortably, Remy raised an awkward hand to scratch behind his neck, scrambling for an excuse "…his fur is just dyed?"

"Oooooooh! That makes sense!" Excitement getting the better of her, Missy reached out to scratch under the ferret's chin. Relaxing his shoulders, Remy could see the subtle scrunch in Juandissimo's brow as if uncertain on what to make of it, though he didn't outright reject Missy's gentle affection.

"Enough small talk." Orvy redirected the focus of welcoming their special guests. "How's about we head on in and show you around!"

Once Orvy and Frances invited Missy and her father inside, they started a quick tour of the club, beginning in the grand foyer. Following the elder Buxaplentys throughout the club, Mike carried his daughter's cello case on one shoulder with Missy in awe beside him, admiring the building's overt yet refined extravagance. It was her first time inside a real-life country club, and it definitely did not disappoint.

During the tour, Orvy gave brief yet straight forward descriptions of the club's amenities as well as the recreational and social activities. Frances would occasionally insert random historical facts and go more in depth about its popularity despite its exclusivity, but she let Orvy do most of the speaking.

Occasionally, Missy would remember there was supposed to be a third Buxaplenty and turn to glance at the boy quietly occupying the tail of the group. Arms still crossed and mint-green downcast with his purple ferret loyal by his side. She'd found him the most peculiar Buxaplenty of them all. Something inside her could feel a festering gloom behind his dark gaze, slowly draining him of life.

"And that's the Fancy Schmancy Country Club." Ovry announced, ending the tour by the Fancy Schmancy Theater. "Are there any questions?"

"Oh, yes." Mike shifted the cello case off his shoulder, using both hands to take his time lowering it to the ground. "Where can Missy warm up?"

"We've reserved space in this room here." Orvy pointed towards the single door on the opposite grey wall of the entrance to the theater.

"And the grand piano for you is all set on stage if you would like to come take a look." Frances offered to Mike who considered with a small shrug.

"Sure, it wouldn't hurt."

"Great!" Frances beamed. "Remy can show Missy the warm up room, and Orvy and I can have you check out the grand piano."

Eyes once hollow met his grandmother with a cynical glare. The fact that she thought it okay to just voluntell him into something so mundane…he almost rather his entire existence be forgotten.

"Sounds like a plan." Mike leaned the cello by its upper bout in Missy's direction, prompting her to grab the side handle. "Catch ya later?"

"Yep!" Missy perked, and Mike gave her a parting grin before leaving with Orvy and Frances into the theater.

Remy stared as Missy faced him, eyebrows raising along with her smile. Unable to match her enthusiasm, he droned in his withered sigh "Follow me, I guess…"

Using her foot to prop the case on its wheels, Missy rolled her cello across indigo tiles as Remy and his purple ferret led her to the single door. Twisting the handle, he decided he might as well hold the door open for her, and she thanked him for his chivalry as she entered into a simple 20x20 room with burgundy walls and deep-maroon carpet. Complete with a chiffon Chantle vanity, a boucle fabric stool, and an upholstered reception loveseat against one of the walls for extra comfort.

"Here it is." he dully declared, wasting no time turning to leave with a hand on the door handle. "I'll leave you to it, then…"

"Wait!" She pivoted towards him with both hands on her cello case, managing to stop him mid-step. "May I ask you a question?"

After a pause, he cocked a brow over his shoulder "…yes?"

"How's your sleep?"

Remy's expression went blank. That seemed like an odd question to ask someone you just met "…my…sleep?"

"Yes." Missy maintained, innocence softening her steadfast tone. "You seem tired."

Remy hesitated in a long pause, licking his lips as he faced her. Unsure how he wanted to answer except for "…I dunno..."

"Do you have anyone to talk to?"

He blinked "…about?"

"What's troubling you."

Staring in his stall, slits narrowed in his brow as his lips pinched, shutting the door to prevent eavesdropping. "Look, I don't mean to be rude…but I've known you for all of twenty minutes." Despite his leveled tone, his hard, critical gaze portrayed his distrust of her. "You don't know anything about me to talk as if you do."

Missy remained calm, her fixed stare showing no sign of taking offense. Hunter-green eyes gentle yet piercing, as if they could penetrate straight through his rigid guard. Remy crossed arms against his chest when he felt his guard falter, swallowing back a knotted lump. Finding himself trapped in a staring contest until a soft glimmer curved in her nude lip gloss.

"That's fair." she simply stated, loosely shrugging. "But, fun fact; there's this voice I hear sometimes…I like to call her Spirit." She pointed to the side of her head. "And Spirit keeps telling me that everything that has ever happened to you is starting to poison you."

His mouth pinched tightly at first, attempting to decode whatever nonsense she just spewed, until thin lips curled in a skeptical sneer as he loomed forward. "What are you getting at?"

"Whatever do you mean?" she queried, the childlike wonder in her features acting as if she genuinely meant no harm or foul. Like some innocent puppy incapable of malicious intent, posing no threat for Remy to remain overly defensive.

"…never mind…" he withdrew, backing away.

Her head tilted curiously. "Are you sure?"

He stiffened, muttering a quiet "…yes."

"Okay." Missy accepted. "May I warm up, now?"

His mind muddled in disarray, Remy's arms laced around himself after a hard swallow "…sure."

"Great!" With that, Missy lowered her cello on its back, kneeling to unlatch the seven latches of her case before giving Remy another friendly gleam. "And thank you for showing me the room."

Missy then raised the lid to her case, retrieving the rosin for her bow as Remy's total perplexity of what just transpired glanced down at the purple ferret's equally stumped stare. Thinking it best to give Missy her privacy, he turned once again in the direction of the door, twisting the handle as both he and his godfather departed into the hall.