A not-so-quick shower and change of clothes later, and we were on the way to lunch. While not exactly in the same neighborhood as my favorite bar there were a few places that would be open for lunch in the area that I knew of, even given the fact it was a Sunday. And they were just down the road from work too! How convenient.

    “Can I get the cask porter?” I asked, after the three of us had shuffled into a booth at the back of the brewpub. It really was an impressive place, with taps lining the whole back of a rather sizable bar. It was a bit pricey, but we had express permission from my boss to use the travel card and it had been a hell of a weekend worthy of being topped with a touch of day-drinking.

    “Starting this early?” Liah asked, exasperation in her voice.

    “It’s been a long weekend. You have your driver's license with you, right?” I’m not that irresponsible; I already knew the answer to the question.

    “I wanted to order one too...” Oh, right. Maybe I was being a bit selfish.

    “There’s a session ale. You’d probably be good with one of those. And it’s from a pretty decent brewery.” I was actually tempted to order it myself for my next one. Cream ales are often underrated.

    “You know my tolerance isn’t that high...I’ll just raid your ‘favorites’ stash when we get home.” She nodded to herself, making it sound like the perfect payback for preemptively shuffling her off into the role of designated driver, despite knowing perfectly well that, with our government card, we could just get a couple growlers of beer to go.

    I’ve always entertained the idea of taking on a Ron Swanson-esque roll in my position as a government worker, although I’ve never actually done so. Going a bit extra with purchasing booze can just be another little act of revenge against the establishment. Totally. It’s a form of protest, and not at all me going ham because I can get high-end beer on someone else’s dime.

    All that aside, I feel my work ethic at times may not match up with my self-image of myself as an employee. Yes, I complain about my job a lot, but do I ever actually slack off at work? If anything I tend to be on-point when it comes to fulfilling requests for documents and information, as well as all the more conservation-oriented tasks my job entails. Am I… actually a good employee?

    “Can you really call yourself a good employee if you go around researching forbidden knowledge?” Liah answered my unspoken thoughts. Thank goodness. I almost went through a whole existential crisis there.

    That said, she had forgotten the waitress was still there, looking rather confused by the last part of our exchange...oh no. We probably look like one of those super lovey-dovey couples who know what the other is thinking. Or not, that last sentence doesn’t really fit into the normal idiom of flirting. Regardless, the waitress hopefully just thinks we’re talking about some video game.

    “Screw it, I’ll have the session ale.” Liah finally answered, in an attempt to distract the waitress from her slip-up.

    “And you?”The waitress turned to the third member of our so-called group. She had been dead silent the whole drive here, which admittedly was like, ten minutes away. She looked a bit hesitant at first, but finally spoke up.

    “Could I get the Unibroue la fin du monde?” She finally answered after a brief glimpse at the tap list. Our orders placed, the waitress left to get our drinks. Speaking of not drinking too much before driving…

    “Isn’t that a bit strong? The boss made it sound like you live far away.” She said something about a few hour long drive.

    “I didn’t drive myself here. I was… black-bagged? Holy shit, I was legitimately black-bagged.” It seemed this fact was just hitting her now. Side-note, this really doesn’t seem like the kind of conversation for a public place, so as much as I really want to delve more into this, it might be better to change the topic.

    “So, what are you studying?” It probably would be good to know her background, at the very least.

    “Neuroscience, pre-med.” She replied curtly. She gave off the impression of being on the antisocial side of things. Not that I have any room to talk. A group of antisocial introverts working together. An absolute dream team.

    “Don’t lump me in with you two!” Liah interjected, earning a confused glance from Sandra.

    “What’s the deal with you two?” She asked. She really did seem like the blunt type. Kind of reminds me of someone I used to know, to be honest.

    “Witch and Familiar.”

    “Wife.”

    We both answered at the same time, though not exactly saying the same thing. We glanced at each-other.

    “I kind of assumed you were ‘like that.’” She spoke flatly.

    “What does that mean?” It sounds like she’s made some weird conclusion.

    “Why are you complaining about something that’s objectively true?” Liah asked.

    “I mean, yes, it is, but her tone about it was kind of weird.” Who ever says “like that” like that?

    “Sorry, I'm not really used to dealing with others.” And after that she was quiet, until the waitress arrived with our drinks.

    After a really long night, the slightly sweet maltiness of the beer was perfection. Sandra seemed to be thinking something similar, based on the tension that seemed to ease slightly after taking a sip of her drink. We placed our food orders, and after the waitress left she spoke again.

    “So...you're a witch?” She asked hesitantly.

    “I suppose so.” I answered.

    “Like with the hat and everything?” For some reason her eyes seemed to glaze over as she asked this.

    “She has the hat at home.” Liah said.

    “Liah!” It’s not like I hide being a cosplayer, but being outed like that is embarrassing. Especially now that I actually use magic.

    “You should hear her cackle.” Liah continued airing my dirty laundry.

   

    “You did the same thing with my friends.” But why?

    “Because it’s cute seeing you get flustered. The contrast between how you usually act and now is just delicious.” She smiled smugly. It’s not that I minded the teasing too much when we’re alone, but the slight blush on Sandra’s cheeks made this embarrassing. Although her blushing over a small bit of flirting is almost as bad.

    “You said familiar? Like, as in an imp or something?” Sandra was now exclusively directing her questions towards Liah.

    “Every witch needs a black cat, right? Don’t call me a demon though. That’s just rude.” She said, rather gently.

    “But you’re human. And your roots are showing, you’re clearly blonde.” That last part might have been a bit much.

    “Don’t ask me how it works. But I’m only half-human.”

    “And the other half is?” Again, being rather blunt.

    “Fairy. Long story.” She took a sip of her cream ale, looking out the window as she did. Now that I think of it, she mentioned her father being from another world, the world we had just been in. I wonder if she had any regrets related to that whole affair.

    “No.” She answered my unspoken thoughts. “I honestly was just thinking of when I revealed it all to you.”

    “Oh, that was a shock.” It was a shock.

    “You’ve gotten used to it though, haven’t you?” She tried looking innocent. If I didn’t know better I might actually think she was. But the honest answer is a bit more complicated.

    “Quite frankly it’s still incredibly weird, if I actually stop long enough to think about it. Maybe I’m conditioned to get used to new situations quickly, but having the stray cat you adopted end up being like this? That’s incredibly weird.” It was weird.

    “Wait, you actually turn into a cat?” Sandra asked.

    “Yes, though what this stupid witch here named me is better left unsaid. And in return, I’ll be gracious enough not to mention the less than pure thoughts she had when she found out I could transform just my ear.” She made it sound like she was doing me a favor.

    “Don’t make me bring up the hairballs!” I rebutted.

    “A natural bodily function, calling me out on it is just rude. As rude as it’d be to point out your occasional problems with hearing. Combine that with your back problems, and I almost feel like I’m working in a nursing home. I fear for your safety every time you take a shower, since you might slip and break your hip.” She always looks so smug when making fun of me, probably because she knows she can get away with it.

    “I’m not going to slip and fall in the bathroom.” Something about that smile makes it hard to think up responses. Sue me.

    “I still am afraid for you. And you don’t even have the decency to let me in to make sure you stay safe. You make it oh so hard for me to do my duty as your familiar.” She shook her head in worry, the look painted on her face that of a dutiful servant wishing her boss would act more sensible.

    “You never even asked!” The lack of sleep was really making it hard to think clearly. No witty back and forth here, just me...wait. Oh, crap. The grin spreading across her face was mildly concerning.

    “So you’re saying if I did ask, you’d let me help you shower?” I’m not answering that. I’m definitely not answering that.

    “If this job means having to deal with this fucking married couple flirting non-stop, maybe I’ll just go back and see if I can take the prison sentence.” Sandra muttered, taking a heavy gulp from her beer. Her 9% ABV belgian-style trippel, I might add.

    Mortified, for once, Liah looked away, blushing heavily. It seems she forgot Sandra was here.