[NOTE: As a result of having too long a hiatus in between updates, and in order to make sure nobody forgot any of the character's names, the author will be notating who each person is when their name pops up. The author hopes it will not distract the reader too much.]

[NOTE #2: This chapter has been updated to NOT have the notations anymore, as the hiatus no longer applies to anyone who may be reading this story at this time forward.]

"And that'll be two Vel," Claire said.

I took the bag of bread from her and smiled. "Thanks! I'll see you around."

I waved goodbye and left the bakery, swinging around my two loaves of wheat bread in my arm. Errand number one, done. What else had mom told me to get? "Right, carrots." Always a handy snack to eat before shifts.

I turned on my heel and started towards the vegetable stall about a five-minute walk away when I noticed a familiar back of a head. Newsboy cap? Curly brown hair? I grinned and jogged lightly to where he was, standing still at the side of the street. "Yo, Lindent!"

Lindent looked over his shoulder. Once he spotted me, he seemed about to say something, but then caught himself and hesitantly raised a hand in greeting instead.

I flashed him a smile once I reached him. "Yo Lindent! What are you up to?"

Instead of answering, he only tilted his head and gave me a questioning glance, as if he was asking what I was doing. His eyes moved to the bag I held in my hand, and I followed his gaze.

"Oh, these?" I raised up the two loaves for him to see. "Running errands for my mom. Since we only have each other, I guess it's something I can't really avoid." I shrugged. "I don't have any complaints, though."

Lindent nodded, and I jerked my head to the right. "I'm heading to the vegetable stall, want to come with?"

He did a sort of half-shrug, and we fell into step together.

"I don't think I've told you this, but my dad died when I was pretty young. I think I was three? Four? I don't really remember him anymore. Now I'm living with my mom on the second floor of-- wait, I've already told you I live in the restaurant, right?" He didn't look surprised, so I supposed I did. "Yeah, so I do. And Cook was kind enough to let me work in the restaurant-- hey, you okay?"

Lindent, who'd been listening quietly until then, suddenly stopped, his head faced a certain way. He looked alert and tense, his eyes darting left and right.

I leaned closer to him. "Lindent? Hello? You okay?"

He turned his head towards mine and jerked back once he saw me. I watched him swallow and lick his lips before he said, "Sorry, I have to--"

A crash sounded nearby. I winced at the loud noise. "What the--"

Lindent immediately turned toward the sound, patted me on my shoulder (his way of saying goodbye, maybe), and raced past me. He vanished around the corner with his usual astonishing speed.

"Well, okay," I said aloud, left in the dust. By myself. "That works too."

After a couple more seconds just staring after him, I shrugged to myself and turned back. To the vegetable stall it was, then.

But really, what did government officials really do? Was it as dangerous or as thrill-chasing as that guy made it seem sometimes? I frowned. Didn't they only do boring government stuff like, like population surveys and taxes or something?

I spent my entire walk to the stall thinking up possible government official jobs, and it wasn't until I reached my destination that I remembered asking him about the pouch.

"Oh right," I said aloud in front of the carrot seller, "I forgot to ask."

("Ask what?" the carrot guy asked.)

I shrugged. "Eh, I'm sure he'll visit the restaurant sometime soon. I'll ask him then."

("Ask who?" the carrot guy asked again.)

("Five carrots, please," I answered.)

The elusive creature named Lindent did indeed visit the restaurant that night, looking quite burnt out and dirty.

"Wow, someone looks quite exhausted," I commented as I raised my eyebrows at him. I prepared his drink almost automatically. "And quite late as well. It's almost closing time."

He just gave me a look, which he dropped almost immediately. His clothes looked even more ragged than usual, and once he received the glass of nonalcoholic cocktail, he downed in a few big gulps, wiped his chin, then held it out for more.

I whistled even as I refilled it. "Care to tell me what's up?"

Lindent hesitated, but shook his head. His shoulders tensed, then he shrugged, slumping back down. Then looked quite conflicted, his eyes darting back and forth, then shook his head. Repeat.

This went on for the entire time I went around the counter refilling other people's drinks.

When I got back to him, I patted his capped head (he didn't have to look so horrified when I did so, jerking away like that, but he did) and told him, "You could've just said it was for work."

He brightened in an instance. He cleared his throat, readjusted his posture, and said, quite seriously, "Work."

"Too late!"

Ah, but that reminded me. I checked the counter-- it was not a busy night, which was not good for business but very good for me. Besides, it was near closing time, so most of the people here were dead drunk. I reached into my apron. "By the way, Lindent, I found this pouch with some paper in it. Is this your--"

Before I could fully draw out the pouch, he snatched it away from me so quickly that I stumbled back in surprise. "Guh?" I managed.

When I raised my eyes back up to him, he was staring so hard at the pouch he could've born holes in it.

"I'll guess and say it is yours, then," I said slowly, dragging out the words, still frozen in my staggered-back position. Once he looked up, I continued. "I found this near your chair the other day, so I--"

“Did you look?” he bristled, eyes flashing at me. His shoulders were hunched up and tense.

I frowned. "Look inside, you mean?" I shook my head. "No, but from the crinkly sound it made it felt like paper."

He remained recoiled, and I raised my eyebrows, stepping forward. "Hey, I didn't do anything! I--"

"Did you read it?" he demanded, stepping away from me at the same time.

 “Read it?” I repeated, an incredulous smile forming on my face. “Did you just ask me--”

“Did you?”

“No!”

His stiff position and wary glare didn’t subside despite how incredulous I must have sounded. I sighed, resisting the urge to facepalm. “Lindent. I can’t read. And I literally told you this a few weeks ago.”

He didn't budge.

"Look," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "I found what obviously belongs to you and gave it back to you. I'd appreciate it if the first thing you did was not to suspect me of invading your privacy."

Silence ran between us as my pointed (and very valid) statement rang out in the relatively quiet space. For a second I thought I could detect a slight softening in his expression, a bit of wavering in his clenched jaw. Then his eyes narrowed some more and he shifted his weight, and he was back to looking as suspicious as ever.

I placed my arms on my hips. "What? What now?"

"Rosa Chesterfield," he said.

"What about her?" I frowned.

He looked away, almost as if he was feeling guilty, but the answer dawned on me anyway. "You think I brought it to her and had her read it to me or something?" I barked out a laugh. "Ha! Why in the world would I go so far to look at what was in a random pouch? And besides, you think Rosa would have time for that? She's busy out there saving lives! Or something!"

His eyes were fixed on the counter between us, but still he said, "She was here three days ago."

"So? I found your pouch two days ago when you came last time and--" My eyebrows furrowed and I stared at him hard. "Waaait," I said slowly, drawing out the word. "How, how did you know when she was here?"

Lindent's eyes darted to the side once before he straightened up and met my eyes. "I saw her carriage."

I regarded him silently, but since it was true that Rosa always came in her trademark blue-and-silver carriage, I had nothing to say. "Sure, let's say that's the truth. She still has nothing to do with this, because I found your pouch two days ago." As I'd already said.

When he didn't answer, I took a deep breath and said, as calmly as I could, "You want me to show you where and how I found it? Here."

I brought out the broom and shoved it underneath the bar counter. "Sweep." I swept. "Crinkle." I pointed. "Look." I gestured at the ground beneath his usual stool. "Find." I looked up at him now. "And since it's under where you usually sit, I asked you first. Anything weird about that?"

He shook his head.

"Anything else you want to suspect me for, before I put this broom back and call it a night?" I looked around-- Paul had already gone back into the kitchen a while ago, and all the resident drunks were knocked out. I'd have to wake them up and get them going, which was as always going to be a hassle. My eyes returned to Lindent, and I raised my eyebrows. "I'm a busy person, Lindent. Let's get going."

He hesitated, clutching his pouch closer to his chest.

"Well?"

Lindent looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, but he murmured something in return.

So there was something else. I stepped closer, leaning in. "What? Speak louder."

He swallowed. "Your mother might have..."

I blinked. "Excuse me? My mother?" I repeated. "Are you suspecting my mother to have read it?"

He didn't answer and just exhaled deeply, then shrunk back a little more.

I didn't laugh this time, only sighed. "I really don't get you sometimes, you know. First you suspect me of having read it when you know I can't read, then you suspect me of bringing it to Rose, who doesn't even know you, and now you suspect my mom?" I shifted the broom from one hand to the other, the other hand now on my hip again. I tilted my head. "Lindent. What have I done so wrong that you're so suspicious of me?" 

He shook his head. "I'm not."

I squinted my eyes at him. Where was the logic?

"I'm not," he insisted, inching away.

I gave him a few more seconds to give me a good reason to believe him, but he didn't say anything more. I blew on my bangs, slumping my shoulders. "Okay, fine, let's work with that. Let's assume that your oh-so-important pouch" I nodded to the pouch he held so close to his heart "and the oh-so-important paper in it is so important that you need to suspect anyone about it."

When I looked up at his face, Lindent's expression looked so miserable that the faint anger that had been stirring inside me sort of died down. Just a little.

"Then I'll give you a reason not to suspect me or my mom anymore.  Rosa, well, I can't really do anything for her because she's been acting pretty suspicious her whole life." I stopped, considering that for a second. Yes, yes she had. There was nothing I could do about that.

"But mom, well, save your time. You don't have to suspect her."

Lindent's eyebrows arched up the tiniest bit in silent question as I turned around and headed towards the back of the counter, dragging the broom behind me. I tasted the words I would be saying in just a moment, a moment of contemplation for what I was going to say.

"Because," I continued with a sigh, throwing my head back to give him a fake smile, "my mom's blind, and the whole town knows it."

---

A/N: Hiya people! I'm back before the year is over with a mini bomb to throw at your faces! :D (if there are any faces still reading this, that is... :'D)

It's been a while (sobs), but I didn't abandon ship!! It's just, now that a lot of Plot™ must be Set In Stone, and once a chapter is uploaded that's it, game's over, you have to work with that now-- I needed to really REALLy iron some stuff out to know what I was doing. (Spoiler: I still don't really know what I'm doing.)

Hopefully by the end of this story, we'll be still coherent. Hehe.

+++ Also, starting with the big 2021, I will definitely start uploading twice a week again, so please look forward to that! :) (it's the truth this time I tell you----)