"Wow, Dormouse. You weren't kidding."

It was already Friday, the non-negotiable date of my non-negotiable dinner with Judy's family, and the first thing that hit me in the face upon entering their house was a wave of military-grade holiday spirit.

"It's a little excessive, isn't it?" my dear assistant whispered and took off her cap.

"A little," I answered as my eyes glided over the sea of garlands, plethora of Christmas lights, and countless red and gold balls hanging from every unoccupied nail and stray corner that could hold one.

"The living room is worse," Judy told me with a sense of detached resignation, and I'm not going to lie, that made me more than a little curious. It wasn't even bile fascination; I genuinely wanted to know how Christmas decoration could be even denser than this. However, before we could get there, we were ambushed by Judy's natural predator.

"Sweet Pea!" A new voice exclaimed as Judy's awfully youthful mother entered the fray with a cheerful smile, as well as enough holiday accessories to serve as perfect camouflage to hide in her environment so that she could sneak up to any unsuspecting Dormouses. A miracle of evolution, I say.

At face value, she looked like an older, more expressive version of my girlfriend. With her long hair loosely braided and just a hint of makeup, she had a gentle, easygoing atmosphere. More importantly though, she was in a full holiday ensemble, including a Santa Claus themed red-and-white apron, a pair of reindeer-shaped fuzzy slippers, and even an honest-to-goodness matching reindeer-antler headband. On the bright side, at least she wasn't waving a ladle around this time, but only because she exchanged it for a pair of Christmas-tree print oven mittens.

In any case, before my girlfriend could even have a chance to react, she got glomped into a bear hug.

"Welcome home, you two! Come in, dinner's almost ready!"

"Moooom," my deadpan assistant moaned in displeasure, but her mother only giggled and focused her attention on me.

"It's been so long since you last came over, Leonard, so I whipped up something special for the occasion. I'm sure you'll like it!"

"Thank you, ma'am, I'm sure I will," I answered with a diplomatic smile. In the meantime, Judy successfully managed to peel herself out of her mother's embrace and escaped behind me, earning her another girlish giggle in the process.

With that intermezzo successfully completed, we followed after Judy's mom and entered into the living room, and I had to agree with my assistant: if holiday spirit could be weaponized, the entryway was merely a Little Boy, while this was closer to a Tsar Bomba.

"You already have your Christmas tree up?" I blurted out when my gaze landed on the brightly lit pine in the corner, and my dear assistant all but groaned in response.

"As I told you, mom is really enthusiastic about the holidays."

"Hearing it from you and seeing it with my own eyes is quite different..."

Since Judy's mother had gone back to the kitchen to finish preparations, the two of us attempted to go upstairs and hole up in her room until the food was ready. Alas, before we could even reach the stairs, we were intercepted by Judy's dad coming down towards us.

The man looked the same as always. He was about a head shorter than me, but had a stocky build that made him remarkably imposing. Combined with his short-cropped hair, angular face, and neatly kept moustache, he had the air of a military man, a feeling that was further emphasized by his perma-frown and his no-nonsense fashion sense right out of the fifties. He also looked, for a lack of better explanation, less 'flaky' than he used to. My educated guess was that frequent interactions with Judy naturally developed and solidified him the same way my involvement turned the odd girl with odder eating habits into my lovely girlfriend.

Anyhow, I realized we were standing still without a word, so I took it upon myself to break the ice.

"Good evening?"

My uncertain greeting was met with further silence, so I adopted a harmless smile and hoped for the best.

"I was told you'd be coming over," Judy's father spoke in a low voice and gestured towards the living room. "Why don't we sit down and have a short talk between us men?"

"I suppose that excludes Judy," I guessed, and he turned to her daughter.

"Sunshine? Would you mind helping your mother in the kitchen while I have a talk with your…" He pointedly paused here as he looked at me. "… boyfriend."

"Dad, please…" my girlfriend pleaded, already suffering from second-degree embarrassment burns, but the man remained steadfast. I more or less knew that this talk would happen sooner or later ever since I first met Judy's father, and figured it was pointless to delay the inevitable, so I put a hand onto the small of her back and gently nudged her forward.

"Don't mind me Dormouse. Go on ahead."

I flashed a smile that said 'Don't worry, I've got this', and she soon gave up and walked away. Her expression was hard to read, as usual, but I had a distinct hunch that she was less worried for me, but rather already exasperated by the shenanigans to follow. For once, I hoped to disappoint her.

In any case, once she left, my second potential father-in-law led me back into the living room and directed me towards the sitting area near the television. I picked one of the sofas, and he sat down on the couch so that he was more or less facing me. Once we were both seated, he forcefully cleared his throat to get my attention, as if he didn't have it already.

"So. You're dating my daughter," he stated with a voice drier than the Sahara in the summer.

"As a matter of fact, I am," I answered truthfully, and he let out a thoughtful hum.

"I had a feeling it would eventually come to this. Even back when she first invited you over," he continued in the same tone, the fingers of his right hand restlessly drumming on his thigh.

"I noticed. The veiled threats were hard to miss."

"Not threats, only warnings so that you could not claim ignorance," he retorted. "Speaking of which, I would like to once again inform you that I have a shotgun. Just remember that."

Honestly, he sounded almost like telling me about his gun was some kind of tiresome obligation, and I had a hard time deciding whether I should do my best to resist the urge to roll my eyes or to laugh. Then, just as I was about to come to a conclusion, my threadbare grey matter made a connection and my brows descended into an intrigued frown.

"I understand, but while we're on the subject…" He gave me the go with his eyes, so I asked, "I was meaning to ask this since the first time it was brought up, but how do you have a shotgun?"

"Excuse me?" the man uttered in surprise, breaking his disapproving dad image for the first time.

"You say you have a shotgun. Last I checked, the island has some of the strictest gun laws in existence, so couldn't help but wonder about it."

"Do you doubt me?" he asked in a low voice, and I raised my palms in response.

"Not at all, I'm just curious."

We locked eyes, and it took quite a while for the man to relax and tell me, "It's one of the perks of being on the force."

… Okay, pull the brakes. Full stop. This absolutely required exploring.

"On the force? Are you a policeman?" He looked at me like I was an idiot, so I hastily clarified myself. "Judy said you're an office worker."

"I am. Not all police officers patrol and investigate; some of us have to get the paperwork done and organize things. Desk jobs might not sound as important, but it's the bureaucracy that keeps the world turning."

"And you still get to have a gun."

"And I still get to have a gun," he repeated after me with just a hint of annoyance. "But speaking of firearms, why were you looking for a permit?"

His question sounded oddly apprehensive, so I answered before we'd fall into some kind of contrived misunderstanding.

"I wasn't really looking for one, I was just curious about the process. If anything, I felt relieved that it isn't easy for someone to get their hands on one."

Seriously, trying to imagine how differently all our previous conflicts could've turned out if we (or even worse, the baddies) had guns was an abject tone-shifting nightmare. Judy's dad, in the meantime, continued to send me suspicious glances.

"Nobody researches gun laws just out of curiosity. Were you expecting trouble?"

"No, not really." He still looked doubtful, so I moved the conversation along by saying, "Still, it's strange that Judy never mentioned you were with law enforcement."

"I don't like to talk about my work at home," he responded a tad dourly, and if we weren't in a very friendly and in no way unnerving 'disapproving father talks to her daughter's boyfriend' situation, I would've stood up on top of the table, made a funnel out of my hands, and sounded a bullshit-alarm that would've put world war two air raid sirens to shame.

No, I'm serious. Not the whole standing on the table and making claxon noises part, but I definitely called bullshit on that explanation. There's no way in hell Judy would've never realized her father was a police officer, even if the pen-pusher variety, and she sure as hell wouldn't have forgotten to mention this factoid to me. That left me with two options: either he was deliberately keeping his family in the dark, or Narrative shenanigans were afoot, and my bet was on option number two.

Let's backtrack a little. While it was a little existentially distressing to consider, it's practically certain that before I nudged Judy out of her original Placeholder routine, she had no background. After talking it out, we concluded that she probably had no house, no family, and no personality (a claim I vehemently disagreed with) until I forced the Simulacrum to generate them for her. Back then, her father was described as an office worker, and outside of his obsession with mentioning his shotgun at any opportunity that presented itself, there was no hint that…

…

Hold on. I first looked into guns around the time Fred started menacing us. It was around that time I became aware that firearms were so strictly restricted on the island, it was literally impossible to get my hands on one. This would conflict with Judy's dad possessing one, so… Son of a bitch! It's a retcon! The Simulacrum redefined the guy to keep him consistent with the setting! We have a smoking gun on our hands, pun intended and all!

I forced my face to remain still even as the recognition rocked me on the inside and kicked my brain into a higher gear. So, we had a potential retcon on our hands, and it raised multiple pressing questions. First of all, when did it happen? If it was recent, it's more than possible that Judy never told me about him being a police officer because she didn't notice the change, or… wait. If this is a retcon, there's a distinct chance it also affected her. I really had to sit down with her and get to the bottom of this after we ate dinner.

While I pondered about all of these things, the man of the household continued to tap on his thigh, his face a hard-to-read mask. At last, he interrupted my train of thought by exhaling sharply.

"Listen up, Leonard. We're both men here, right?"

I thought that was just a rhetorical question, but he didn't continue until I uttered an uncertain "Sure, we are".

"Men should be direct. Straightforward. Decisive. None of this pussyfooting nonsense. Do you agree?"

"More or less." He once again frowned in disapproval, so I corrected myself. "I mean, yes, I agree."

"Good. Let's make this simple for both of us. No beating around the bush. I have a lot of questions. Important ones. You answer, yes or no. Straight like a stick, simple as a stick, blunt as a..."

"Stick," I completed his line, and he grunted in approval, after which he dramatically crossed his arms.

"Look me in the eyes now. The first question is easy: do you love my daughter?"

That really was an easy question, and I didn't even have to think about it.

"Yes."

"Good. Next: Do you have any plans after you finish high school?"

"Yes." He remained silent, so I figured he wanted me to elaborate. "I'll probably keep investing and live off the profits."

"You have investments?"

"Yes. In the record industry."

"Where did you get that kind of money?"

"That's not a yes-or-no question," I replied at once, earning me an awkward hum.

"Good. You caught the trick question. Keep paying attention. Next question." Despite saying that, he remained silent for a long while. By the looks of it, he was considering whether he should ask or not, and ultimately decided to do so. "Are you in any way involved in organized crime or any illegal activities?"

Oh. So that's why there was a pause. That was certainly not something you would ask without a reason.

"No, and no."

"In that case, have you ever engaged in forgery of identification documents?"

Oookay, that was definitely too on the nose for just a random question. It took me a while to decide how to answer that, but in the end, I figured I might as well bite the bait to see how far the fishing line goes.

"Yes."

"... Did you just admit that?"

"You wanted me to be direct, and you wouldn't have asked if you didn't already know, so there's no point dancing around the question," I told the baffled man, and he quickly recomposed himself.

"Indeed." Judy's dad paused and leaned forward in his seat, all the while his eyes were still glued to my face. "I looked into your background."

"Isn't that abuse of authority?"

"It is, but nobody cares," he shrugged off my comment without batting an eye. "I've already discovered that both you and your sister had your records entered into the central registry through unofficial channels. I also couldn't find anything about your alleged parents."

"That's not surprising, considering they don't exist."

By now the man was getting increasingly unbalanced by my responses, which is exactly where I wanted to have him.

"I suspected as much. I also appreciate your forthcoming attitude."

"You're welcome. So, what else did you find out?"

"Nothing. I was shut down from high." He paused here for emphasis, his brows somehow descending even further in the process. "Very high. Not even my boss's boss could tell me where the orders came from, but I was told not to investigate your background."

Thinking about it, the source of that order was probably Lord Grandpa, or one of his associates. He was the only person in a position of power I knew who could pull something like that off; while the Dracis had money, they didn't have strong political connections, while if the Celestials were involved, they would rather try to urge him to continue and dig up as many juicy details as possible.

"So you decided to ask me directly?"

"Precisely. I want to know who you are, why you are living under a fake identity, and what you want from my daughter."

Oh boy, those were some loaded questions if I've ever heard any. I was also caught flat-footed, as I spent so much time focused on the supernatural shenanigans we got entangled into, I forgot to pay due attention to the mundane authorities and how they could catch up to me. Which they actually did, now that I think about it, just in an unexpected way.

At any rate, I had to dig myself out of this hole before dinner, so I did what I always do in situations like this and dusted off my trusty Refuge in Audacity to get the job done. So, for a start, I matched the man's gaze for a few seconds, then I pretended to waver for about as long, and only then did I slump my shoulders and let out my best defeated groan. I could only hope I wasn't overacting too much.

"Fine, fine. You got me. Unfortunately, I can't answer your first question."

"Why?" the man pressed on like a shark smelling blood in the water, so I once again pretended to think hard about how much I can say.

"Let's just say it's classified. As for why, let me answer your second question with another question: Why would my sister and I live on our own under false identities in this day and age?"

"Witness protection," he uttered on reflex, and I shrugged in a way that wasn't quite a confirmation.

"Something like that, but on steroids."

"Organized crime?"

"Worse. Politics," I responded with a half-truth. "I can't say anything more than that."

"What about the last question then?"

"What do I want from Judy? Companionship, artisanal sandwiches, and potentially three kids. She wants two daughters and one son, but it's not really up to us to decide."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

There was a momentary stalemate as we locked eyes, and this time it was my host who averted his gaze first.

"Does she know about any of this?"

"She knows all of it. In fact, she knows more than you do or what I can tell you about."

"Is that so?" The room once again fell into silence as he digested our conversation, and just as I was about to move on, he leveled a frosty gaze at me. "Tell me straight: is whatever you're involved with a threat to my daughter?"

"I can't say it's not, but she's already involved herself, and I'm constantly taking further precautionary measures to keep her out of harm's way. There are trained professionals working with us, and one of them is specifically responsible for keeping her safe."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes. Maybe? It was mainly supposed to keep you informed so that you understand the gist of the situation. That said, there really isn't any mortal threat involved, so you don't have to worry about that. "

The creases between the man's brows told me my explanation still didn't make him feel any better.

"Can I trust you?"

"That's for you to decide. I never lied to you," I told him with all the conviction a half-truth could provide. "However, if you're only going to believe one thing, then let it be this: I love Judy, and I wouldn't get her involved in something that would endanger her either directly or indirectly."

Whatever the man wanted to say in response was interrupted by his energetic wife calling out "Boys! Dinner's ready!" from the kitchen. The man glanced her way, then back at me, and stood up. I followed suit, and when I did, he suddenly extended a hand to me.

"I like to believe that I'm a good judge of people. Please don't prove me wrong."

I flashed him a reassuring smile and shook the hand in front of me, and it was only at this point that I paused and realized something was amiss.

"Excuse me, this might be kind of silly to bring up here, but have we ever been formally introduced?"

"I… don't think we have," he responded a touch puzzled, but quickly shook it off and squeezed my hand. "The name's Clarke. Clarke Sennoma."

"Leonard Dunning." I squeezed back, and he nodded with just a hint of approval.

"So, Leonard. There's one last question I wanted to ask, but the other topics took priority."

"I'm listening."

"Is the little fox-dog up for adoption?" I might've made a funny face, as he hastily qualified, "I've heard you couldn't keep her at your place, so I was wondering if your 'cousin' would want to let us keep her. Not for free, of course." I must've still looked off, as he cleared his throat and awkwardly added, "Don't take me wrong. It's my better half who's really fond of the little devil."

"How about we discuss this during dinner?" I proposed, and my host graciously agreed.

And so, I have successfully weathered a father/boyfriend meeting full of tension, weird turns, and at least one unanticipated potential revelation about the world. I can't say I expected even half of that, but I learned new things, and I no longer had to worry about Judy's father threatening me with his shotgun anymore, so I chalked the whole affair up as a win.