Hannah was awoken by the sound of a kettle whistling. She tried and failed to get it to shut up without opening her eyes, but sadly, it didn’t work.

“I’ll get it!”

The voice was… what was her name? Bailey?

Yeah, her name was Bailey. She was the one who mentioned Henry the night before… Hannah ought to have asked her about him, more.

“Hey…”

It was so dark. Why was--

Oh, Hannah’s eyes were still closed. That would explain the whole ‘everything is dark despite being awake’ thing. She opened them, and was greeted by the bright morning hitting her in the head with a sledgehammer. The light bled into Hannah’s eyes in a way that made her frown. Where was some moonlight when she needed it?

Bailey was there, arranging some plates of food at the nearby dining table. She was humming to herself as she worked, dressed in a long black nightgown.

“Hey, you,” Hannah said.

Bailey turned to face Hannah.

“Good morning! What’s up?”

“You know Henry. Red hair. Nice smile? Never uses or tells anyone his last name? Lillian and I’s Henry?” Hannah asked.

Bailey frowned at that last one a little, but she nodded. What there was to frown about eluded Hannah, to be quite honest, but maybe Bailey just liked to frown for the fun of it.

Or… wait. Hannah did imply Henry and Lillian were ‘hers’. Ah ha.

“He’s a bit busy at the moment, but he’ll be here sometime today. He always finds a reason to end up here,” Bailey replied.

For some odd reason, Hannah had the sneaking suspicion there was only ever one reason, and that she was looking at her. But she elected to keep that thought to herself… This Bailey girl seemed a little quick to jump to denial.

“Busy doing what?”

“He’s a squire to this order of knights. They keep him pretty busy…”

Hannah smirked.

“Is that a hint of disdain I hear?”

“I’m not the Order’s number one fan, I’ll admit. So what?”

“Just curious,” Hannah shrugged, “How do you know him, anyhow?”

There was a pause, as Bailey’s expression shifted around. Was that a hint of wistfulness in there? A teaspoon of a blush?

“We were co-workers. Now we’re…”

Bailey gestured at the air, but the gesture could have meant a lot of different things. It involved a lot of waving hands around and throwing arms up in the air, that was for damn sure.

“You like him.”

“What about this,” Bailey repeated the gesture, “makes you think that?”

“Nothing to do with ‘this’. I think you and I have very similar tastes… I mean, hell, you like Lillian. Plus you went on a whole emotional odyssey a second ago. That’s all the information I need.”

“Now hold on a second. Who says I like Lillian?”

Awfully touchy, wasn’t she?

“Me,” Hannah said.

Bailey pointed a finger at Hannah when she next spoke. Of course, she was also pointing three fingers back at herself, so...

“You’ve got no leg to stand on.”

“I have two, actually,” Hannah lifted two fingers skywards, “One: you can’t keep your eyes off her. Two: I mean, just listen to the words you say and see the things you do around her.”

“Nice theory.”

Heh.

“Not a theory, a fact.”

“...If you say so,” Bailey said.

There were probably multiple layers to her denial. One was that perhaps she wasn’t aware of her own feelings (or how she came across, at least). Another was that she might have known that Hannah had a thing with the two people she was crushing on back in the day.

Well, at least Hannah could clear that one up.

“Hey, don’t hold back on my account, if that’s your worry.”

Bailey raised an eyebrow at her.

“I mean, I’m not gonna be jealous. I’m a little ‘courtship’d out for the next decade.”

“How do you mean?”

Hannah smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was more of a grimace of doom that a lawyer could argue technically was still shaped like a smile.

“Look, I was arranged to be married where my husband-to-be was all about formality and shit. Didn’t even want to hold hands! Said it would invite ‘impure thoughts’. I don’t know about anyone else, but I have an appetite for the ‘impure’.”

“You’re horny, you mean.”

Not even Bailey could prevent a chuckle at the situation. Good. It would do no one any good to have her be all awkward and worried about jealousy when none was there.

“Oh, extremely. When I can go into the city I’m diving right in and not coming out for air till I can’t feel anything below my legs, or my tongue.”

Okay, now Bailey was laughing openly. Excellent.

“Which, you know, people say means I’m corrupted by the moonflower. But you know what? Fuck them. If basking in the glow isn’t right, I’d rather be wrong.”

“You know what, Hannah? I like you,” Bailey said, pulling herself together. “You’re fun.”

“Thanks! I’m all about fun. Fun is my reason for being. Most of the trouble me and your two crushes got into when we were kids was my idea.”

Bailey plopped herself on the couch and gave Hannah a mischievous look, one that said, ‘let’s cook up a conspiracy!’. Hannah was already liking this girl a lot more than she had the night before, that was for damn sure.

“...You know what, Hannah, I don’t think either of them have mentioned anything along those lines,” Bailey grinned; “would you care to enlighten me?”

“It all started with a cart full of fresh vegetables...”

******

    The castle’s chapel was all high vaults and sharp angles, and Lillian did not care for it one bit. It was in a style adjacent to that of Inquisition HQ in Golden Ravines, and it carried with it a similar message: I Am Ancient. Fear and Obey me.

    Lillian made her way through the front doors, and found herself faced with the stained glass mural of a dragon speared through the neck with a lance.

    Urgh. Some part of her growled at the image.

    To counteract this, she forced herself to think human thoughts. Thoughts like, for instance, ‘I can’t wait to do my laundry today’, and ‘So how about that weather, huh?’. They weren’t the kind of thoughts she was prone to thinking, but it sounded like the kind of thing people might say.

    No one was in the main hall of the chapel, so she went right up to the window. The pool of reflected glass blood filled the pulpit in the harsh morning sun, and Lillian couldn’t help but shiver at the sight. The window, no, the whole building was a celebration of extermination and bloodshed.

    “Can I help you, Inquisitor?”

Lillian forced herself into a stiff, inexpressive position, and turned around.

“As a matter of fact, Pastor, you can. I understand I am something of an unwelcome force around here… It seems myself and the Order have gotten off ‘on the wrong foot’. I was hoping to speak to Lord Gaius on the matter.”

It wasn’t totally a lie. The fact that she was also there to scope out his office for entrances, exits, and possible places where the personnel files were stashed wasn’t anyone else’s business.

Her excuse/reason made the Pastor’s eyes go big. Inquisitors, after all, were uncompromising, right? Where was the poison hidden in the sugar? Of course, he was right to be suspicious. But he had no cause to suspect the thing Lillian was actually up to.

“...Er, yes, well… Alright. He’s through those doors. Go ahead and knock, if you dare.”

Lillian went up to the door and knocked. The door had a relief carved into it, of a dragon with a lance going in one eye and out the other, because of course it did.

“Yes?”

“It’s Inquisitor Stone.”

Lord Gaius sighed, in a way that was certainly meant to be a psychological tactic, of the ‘audible aside that sounds like you weren’t supposed to hear it, but you totally were’ variety. If he thought he was going to frighten her, he had another think coming. Lillian had snuck past the defenses around the ruins of the Anvil and bathed in the waters of the magma chamber with the risk of being apprehended and executed; some half-price dragonslayer was the least of her concerns.

“Come in. Make it quick.”

Oh, she was going to take her time (and his). Lillian opened the door and stepped in, for a moment leaving her hand on the poor carved dragon’s head. It was inadequate as an expression of grief and sympathy; all expressions were.

“Lord Peter Gaius,” Lillian said.

“Sit down and start talking.”

Lillian remained standing, so as to tower over the man in his silly little chair.

“Yes, well. I’m here to formally ask you to end this stonewalling you’ve got your people doing.”

The so-called Lord huffed out another sigh.

“If you have questions, Inquisitor, you can ask me. Don’t bother my men… they’re still in training.”

Training for what, exactly?

“Surely, though, you see the problem. I am here to investigate you and your leadership.”

She began to scan around the room: there were two large windows behind the desk, the kind that could open. Good. A broken window was surefire evidence of a break-in, after all.

“Well, funny that, because you’re not the only one around here who can do some investigating. Look at this.”

He rifled through a tray of folders on his desk. One of them was labeled ‘Personnel’ and another ‘Contracts’ and yet another ‘Blackmail’, which was simply too on the nose to be real. Or was the man so calcified in his authority that he didn’t bother pretending not to be a despot?

Whatever the case, he removed a familiar-looking file out of the ‘Blackmail’ folder, and put it on the desk.

“It’s your dossier.”

Ah. So it was cheap scare tactics, then? Lillian’s lip curled upwards a little.

“I can see that,” Lillian said, “but what of it? I’ve seen this before. The Inquisition keeps one of these for every member.”

Lord Gaius grinned.

“I know all your dirty laundry, Stone. I see that you had a romance with a boy and a girl at the same time when you were young.”

Oh, that old chestnut. She had already suffered the consequences for that. Exhuming it, as if she could be punished for that once more, was a 2/10 intimidation attempt at best. And it wasn’t like she’d do it again or anything…

“It was hardly a romance. We were thirteen, lonely, and we would hold hands and talk about running away together. Whatever it is you’re imagining, you are one hundred percent off base.”

“Still… I could tell my men all about this. Do you think they’d respect you after that?”

“They don’t respect me now.”

While she let the conversation sort of go on off her usual ‘being threatened by an ineffectual prick’ script, she looked around the room some more. There were several weapons mounted on the wall; a lance, a sword, and a shield. Each was made with positively ancient forging techniques that had long since been phased out, yet they were polished and shiny as the day they were first wielded.

“You think you’re so brave, don’t you?”

“Hardly. You just aren’t that threatening.”

The self-proclaimed Lord put his fist on the desk and scowled.

“My bloodline are dragonslayers. Do you see that lance?”

“It is quite hard to miss,” Lillian said.

“It’s the lance that my family has carried since the first Dragonquell. I carry it, and one day, Ulysses will carry it.”

Yes, yes, blah, blah, blah. Lillian just let the script play out some more.

“I know my history. There is no need for the lesson.”

“Well, I know your history. Fascinating how you seem to have an interest in the Dragon, of all things…”

Hmm.

That wasn’t in the script.

“It is imperative for an Inquisitor to be ready to identify the signs of a return of the Enemies. Should I bury my head in the sand and neglect my duties?”

Okay, that would probably put Gaius on the backfoot, but it wouldn’t hurt to push it a little further. Men like him needed a show of strength or else they would assume weakness.

“And not to mention, you are a dragonslayer, yes? Or a hypothetical one. I understand it was Sir Frederick who did most of the slaying under your watch… are you and him not also scholars on the subject of dragons?”

That ‘hypothetical’ comment was apparently the final straw.

“Get out of my office.”

“Good day, then,” Lillian said.

When she was clear of the chapel, she found a quiet room and lost her shit laughing.

*****

Apparently, someone had to clean every weapon in the armory. That day, it was Henry. His arms were already starting to hurt after the fifth or sixth sword.

The room was without life, personality, or color. It was a gray stone box with some weapons on racks, a blunt instrument of pure function. Any flourishes or character were to be removed; after all, how was the Order supposed to shape people if they allowed laughter or texture?

Just as he was starting to clean yet another blade, none other than Belladonna showed up, with Yulia in tow.

“Come to point and laugh at my misfortune?” Henry asked.

Both of Henry’s visitors looked around the room with conspiracy in their eyes. Apparently, after a few seconds of surveying, they were satisfied.

“Do you remember the talk we had about the uh… costume help?” Belladonna said.

Ah ha.

“I do, yeah.”

“Could you walk us through that? How we might get our hands on…”

Henry nodded.

“Sure can. Bailey’s got this sister in the city, a witch. She can enchant some jewelry for you that creates a sort of… illusory body.”

“And we can decide how that looks?” Yulia cut in.

A smile spread its way across Henry’s face.

“Yeah. How do you think I got so ruggedly handsome?”

Belladonna chuckled.

“Don’t get a big head about it, Henry. It’s, well, it’s unbecoming.”

“Look. You try getting a body you actually like and try to stay completely humble.”

“Well,” Belladonna replied, “I guess we’ll find out, then?”

At that, Henry could only chuckle.

“I guess so! Though I don’t know how much my experience will apply to you two. You might want to talk to Bailey.”

“Assuming she’ll look us in the eye,” Yulia said.

Ah. Right. Well...

“That could be a problem… but it’s worth a shot.”

“...Right.”

Belladonna nodded, and spoke up. There was a sort of clarity to her voice… it was still her voice, but with less of the bassy-ness. Was she training her voice?

“We’ll go do that, then. Uh. Have fun and good luck with cleaning all the swords. Sorry that Lord Gaius is uh…”

Henry smiled.

“Punishing me for you two’s imagined infractions against masculinity?”

“Yeah, that,” Belladonna chuckled.

“I’ll live. Tell Bailey I said hi.”

“Will do,” Yulia replied.

With that, the two girls(?) took their leave. Henry returned to his work in cleaning up all the weapons in the armory, in the strange inhuman solitude.

It was one of those liminal spaces, like everyone had stepped out for five minutes and just hadn’t come back yet, and the emptiness of it was setting in. All the swords and shields, supposed weapons to fight the void or whatever… but those weapons were the void. The blades were shining examples of emptiness, cold steel and uncaring metal.

But, at some point, Henry got the feeling like he was being watched. It reminded him of being in church for some reason.

He pulled one of the swords off the racks, and waved it around.

“Who’s there?”

No response. He gripped onto the sword and began to look around the room, peeking behind training dummies and storage chests, in hopes of finding the source of that old feeling.

“I know you’re there,” Henry said, “I know how to use this sword… sort of. Don’t underestimate me.”

At that, a tall storage locker opened, and none other than Sir Fucking Frederick popped out of it.

“What the absolute fuck? Where have you been?”

“Shh!”

Sir Frederick looked around the room, with a heavy frown. He went up to another storage locker and threw it open.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for the Inquisitor. She could be anywhere.”

Henry exhaled.

“Have you been hiding in a locker for the past few weeks?”

“No. I’ve got a tent pitched in the hedge maze,” he said, “it’s very cold.”

“...Yeah, I bet.”

Even though there was no one else in the room, Sir Frederick kept scanning around the place, like there might be someone hiding in yet another storage box or whatever.

“Why have you been avoiding her, exactly?”

“There’s enough problems here that she doesn’t need my testimony… and I don’t want Lord Gaius and Thomas Byserson to gut me like a fish.”

Henry raised an eyebrow.

“How have you been?”

“Well, I was put on the night shift guarding the archives building for… I don’t know, injuring my cohorts’ manhood.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Hm. Was that a genuine ‘sorry’ or…

It was hard to tell, really. Henry sighed.

“No one thought to tell me that,” he caught himself, “Ulysses is the Lord’s son. Hell, no one ever introduced me to Gaius.”

“...Damn. I knew I forgot something.”

Oh, there was more than that. For one, there was any self defense training, any real preparations for what the Order would be like, or… well. The list went on. Henry huffed at the weird feeling in his chest, like… someone had failed. But for once, it wasn’t him? Like, maybe someone failed him?

“Why are you here now, anyways? I’ve been managing fine without you.”

Oh, that struck a nerve.

“I was concerned that the Inquisitor was going after you!” Sir Frederick hissed, “I have a hideout and I wanted to offer you a spot in it. We could let this whole ordeal blow over and emerge after the Order is gone.”

“Hm… No.”

“No?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sir Frederick’s voice raised up a little.

“Are you not concerned about the Inquisitor? Not even a little bit?”

Henry shrugged.

“I’d rather be here to watch the fireworks, to be honest. Plus, Inquisitor Stone is staying at the court mage’s tower… I wouldn’t want to avoid Bailey, you know.”

At that, Sir Frederick raised both brows and chewed on his tongue.

“Oh, dear. I should probably check in on Emma, then.”

“So all this time you’ve been hiding out, you haven’t spoken to your,” Henry cleared his throat, “daughter once?”

 

“I’m going to check on her. Would you like to stay here and clean, or would you like to come with me to the tower?”

“...Alright,” Henry said, “let’s go.”

*****

Bailey went about the day with a learned comfort; there was a sort of mindless ease to watering the plants, putting in a bit of magic practice, organizing the workshop, and so on and so forth. It was odd to have Hannah hanging around, but she more or less rifled through the tower’s library.

So when this pattern was disrupted, she let out a sigh. She was getting real sick of knocks at the door. When she opened the door, her sigh deepened. What the hell were Bill and Ulysses doing out front?

“Henry’s not here, if you’re looking to beat the shit out of him again,” she said.

“Okay, it was one punch,” Ulysses said, “and he was fine.”

Bill shook his head toward Ulysses.

“...Right. I shouldn’t have done that. It sucked that I did that. Sorry.”

“I’m not the one you ought to apologize to,” Bailey replied.

“Well, um, yeah. But we’re not here for him. We wanted to talk to you,” Bill put in.

Oh joy.

“...Alright. Come on.”

It wasn’t like she had anything better to do, like trim the lizard’s-eye ferns or organize the kitchen, right?

Whatever. She’d be rid of tweedle-tool and tweedle-dickhead soon enough, and she could get back to her day.

“Alright,” Bailey said, “have a seat.”

The two sat at the dining table, in Bailey and Emma’s usual chairs. Bailey leaned up against the icebox (she refused to call it the re-ice-ator, no matter what Emma said).

“Who are these guys?” Hannah called, from the couch.

“We’re a pair of passing ghosts,” Ulysses said, “who wish to speak to Bailey alone.”

Hannah shot Bailey a ‘should I go, or…’ kind of look. All Bailey could do is shrug.

“...I’ll be back in two minutes. Bailey, scream if these guys start annoying you.”

“Oh, I will.”

And, with that, Hannah took her book and went downstairs.

“So what do you two want?”

“Well,” Ulysses said.

“It’s, um, no rush, but…”

Bailey raised an eyebrow. Waves of shame and terror seemed to emanate from the pair, in a way that reminded Bailey of herself and Henry back before…

Hm.

Now there was an odd thought.

“We have this sort of… competition between us,” Bill said.

“On Dragonquell, we like to dress up. And we have a game where we both dress up like…”

Like what? Bailey leaned in a little.

“You see…”

“Dress up like what?” she asked.

The two shared a look.

“Like… like girls.”

Naturally.

“Not- not like in a weird way or anything. It’s just… a thing.”

“Yeah,” Ulysses put in, “and we heard… that you knew someone who could help us take it to the next level.”

“The next level?” Bailey asked.

The air hung in itself, still as a recently-thrown brick. Both of the tower’s guests looked at the floor, or the wall, or anywhere that Bailey and the upwards curl of her mouth weren’t.

“Yeah. It’s just been clothes and wigs and stuff before. But, uh, Henry said something about illusions that could? Look…”

Ulysses cut off his own words, and let them trail off into the eternal oblivion of space.

“I know a gal. Are you two down for a little field trip?”

“Yes,” Bill said.

“...We would be in so much trouble if we get caught.”

“Then,” Bailey grinned, “let’s make sure you don’t. How would you feel about some disguises?”

*****

Hannah was lucky to find a spot in the courtyard that the snow of last night hadn’t touched. The whole rest of the place was covered in that nasty in-between slush, when snow was neither liquid nor solid. There was no way in hell she’d sit on all that.

Her book was a good time sink, at least. That Emma character might not have been pleasant to be around or nice or patient, but she did have a good taste in romance novellas.

But just as the Prince Benvault Marutio was about to confess his love for the spunky kitchen maid Julietta, she was distracted by the sound of boots in the snow.

At first, she huffed and sighed at the distraction. But then she saw just who was crunching their way across the courtyard.

He was taller, then, but he was Henry (and some other guy who she didn’t recognize). Hannah felt her whole body seize up in some strange mixture of shock and excitement. He was there.

There was some part of her that worried this was some kind of trap, or setup, or something. Like, somehow, her and Henry’s and Lillian’s fathers set this whole thing up just to yank the rug from under them again. But that was… unlikely. And even if it was the case, she would kick herself for the rest of her life if she didn’t at least say hi.

“Henry!”

Henry stopped in his tracks, and looked around as if a ghost had just tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hannah?”

“Henry!”

“Hannah!”

The pair just sort of gaped at one another for a few long moments. The sheer improbability, or impossibility, or whatever word fit this situation had them both stumped beyond belief. Meanwhile, the other guy, whoever he was, just made his way into the tower.

“How are you here?” Henry asked.

“How are you here?”

“The boarding school burned down and I made a run for it until I made it to Watermilfoil!”

Every time Henry repeated the story, whether to himself or to others, it felt a little weirder to say. The old internal jailer taunted him with images of people deciding that he burned the place down, even though he was off hiding in the hedge maze when the fires started.

“...Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Hannah laughed.

“I stepped through a door that wasn’t supposed to be there in the cave at the end of the world and wandered my way here.”

Sometimes, words existed in the air, heard but not comprehended. This state of affairs held for a beat before they finally sunk in. Henry didn’t even know where to start in terms of questions, so he decided to skip any questioning entirely.

“...Huh.”

“No kidding! Let’s go in and catch up!”

 

“I don’t know if this is going to work.”

“Why’s that?”

“I mean, what if someone spots us? Putting on a dress isn’t going to hide,” Bill gestured to his body, “this rectangle.”

Bailey nodded, despite the fact that all that was more feminine that Bill could realize. She knew that lie of self perception, the good old ‘oh but I’m too masculine, I’ll look awful in a dress’ thing. It was wrong on two fronts: one, even the most manly of men could rock a dress if it was a cut, color, and cloth that suited them. And, of course, two: Bill wasn’t nearly as much of a ‘rectangle’ as he feared.

“...If that’s what you’re worried about, then maybe try something that emphasizes your hips. How do you feel about a petticoat?”

“You have one?”

“Here.”

Ulysses, meanwhile, was just staring at the pile of clothing.

“How’s it going?”

“...I don’t deserve this,” he said.

“Deserve what?”

Ulysses sighed.

“Your kindness. A chance. This opportunity. I’m… I hurt Henry. By the Four, I enjoyed it.”

“Let’s put ‘deserve’ aside for a moment, okay?”

“Why?”

The smile that plastered itself on Bailey’s face was mostly kind, but it was also a little smug.

“Because whether, in some cosmic sense, you ‘deserve’ this chance or not, whether or not you’ve been a good enough girl for it, you still have it.”

He blushed a little, for some reason.

“Because you’re giving it to me for some reason. Even though… you hate me.”

“What, you want me to pull the rug on you?”

“No!”

With fingers fumbling, Ulysses picked at his trousers, tight and scratchy as they were.

“...Just. I don’t get you.”

“No, you don’t. But I get you. And yeah, I’m not fond of you, but I’m not the one who you’ve hurt. It’s not my call whether to forgive or not. And, anyways, Alice would wring my neck out if she knew there was someone who wanted her help and I denied them the chance to get it.”

“What’s this Alice like, anyways?”

Bailey shrugged.

“Snippy. Holds a grudge, but kind. Big fan of Dragonquell. She’s going to love you two.”

“Why?”

Bailey had to bite down on her bottom teeth to avoid smirking.

“You’ll see.”

 

*****

With a cup of tea each, Henry and Hannah sat at the common room table. It was pretty cold in there, but it was much warmer than outside, thank goodness. The tea was also helpful to that end, so Hannah slurped it up as much as possible without singeing her taste buds.

“So, you were getting married to someone? Who was it going to be?”

Hannah stuck her tongue between her teeth.

“Eugh. It was Jake Howard.”

“Jake, the boy who wanted to grow up to be a priest?”

They both laughed at the memory.

“Yep.”

“Does he still…”

“Yeah. He’s slated to take over my dad’s church,” Hannah said, with a growl in her voice,“so of course, like the rest of dad’s property, I was a part of the package deal.”

Henry’s brow furrowed.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes indeed,” Hannah said, slurping more tea.

It was something of a ‘massive fucking understatement’, by a few miles, but it sure was the thing Henry said!

He pinched the vein on his forehead and drank some tea. It helped him feel a little less like a complete dunce, which was nice.

“So what have you been up to?” Hannah asked.

“Me? Well, I worked on the cleaning staff of this castle for a while. Then there was an incident and I… had a chance at a fresh start, so…”

Without even thinking, he gestured at his face and his general body area.

“So now you’re growing a beard.”

“Yeah! It’s pretty good,” Henry said, “thank goodness for magic.”

“After what… happened… I’m glad you still found the resolve to transition.”

“I didn’t do it alone. You can thank Bailey for dragging me into it, more or less.”

“Oh?”

Henry grinned.

“She… well. After we both got fired, she was like, hey, what if I used magic to look like a girl? And I said, well, okay, but only if you include me in the plan.”

“How is that a… plan?”

That was a very good question, now that Henry thought of it. What was the point of that whole idea again? Was it… to get work in the castle, right? Well, it worked, but…

Huh.

Was that whole thing just an excuse to transition? Inquiring minds were curious about that.

“We would get new jobs,” Henry replied, “and, uh. Yeah. Surprise! I guess I’m a man.”

“What, you forgot? I thought we settled that when we were like, twelve.”

At that, Henry sighed.

“...I tried to beat it out of myself, I guess.”

“Oh, Henry…”

“It’s fine.”

Hannah took Henry’s hand in hers, and studied the creases and folds in his face. Her voice was quiet and tender as she spoke next.

“Is it?”

Well…

“Hmm. Maybe not? I don’t know. I’m not in that mental place anymore. At least, not usually.” Henry said.

“Well, that’s good. How are things with Bailey? I have a hunch she likes you.”

 

“Well… maybe. I’m a little bit in love with her, I can say that much.”

Hannah laughed.

“She seems your type. Also, I think she likes Lillian.”

“Yeah. She’s got good taste,” Henry said, with a grin.

“You’re biased.”

“So are you. Are you telling me you, Henry, have no bias with regards to interest in our dear friend Lillian Stone?”

Henry closed his mouth, before once more opening it and speaking.

“I recuse myself.”

“Uh huh.”

It was then that Bailey emerged from upstairs, wearing a long red coat over her shoulders… it was a bit wide, flowing all the way to the ground.

“Hey Henry,” Bailey said, flicking some of her hair about, “want to pay Alice a visit?”

Henry sputtered for a second, before settling on syllables he could say.

“Yeah!”

He stood up and went over to Bailey, and the two shared a smile, the kind that was a whole campfire’s worth of warmth all in itself.

“You’re wearing my coat,” he said, with a grin.

“You left it here. Want it back?”

“Yes please.”

Bailey unclasped the front of the coat, gripping it with a gentle touch, and hung it over Henry’s shoulders. He couldn’t help but laugh a little as she closed the claps around his chest. She raised an eyebrow at him, a sort of ‘is this okay?’ look.

In response, he tapped on her fingers, the ones that still lingered on the clasp of the cloak. They were extended out in such a way that they were brushing up his chest.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” she blushed.

Hannah watched this all with a rather smug look in her eyes, but she said nothing. But then… two other people poked their heads out of the tower. There was a sort of anxious twitchiness to their looking about, like they were expecting someone to show up and yell at them out of nowhere.

“Who’ve you got there?” she asked.

“Henry,” Bailey said, with a shrug.

“No, not him. Them.”

At that, the mysterious pair withdrew back into the tower.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bailey said.

“Alright,” Hannah said, “Fair enough. I’ll see if I can find Lillian and bother her.”

“Come on, then,” Bailey said, both to Henry, and to the to ‘disguised’ people with them, “Let’s go see ourselves a witch.”