Sno was going to be Avi’s Second in his wedding to Johann. It was a choice that was beyond automatic. It was almost instinctual. They’d been best friends since the Academy. Of fucking course she was going to be the next best thing to the Best Man. It also, kind’a-sort’a, solved the problem of what they were going to wear to the ceremony.

It also presented a heavy problem.

As Avi’s Second, it was Sno’s duty to run the Stag Night. The Bachelor Party. The last hurrah before a life of domestic bliss. Him, her, and the boys on a pretty standard evening of drunken revelry, pranks, and possibly a stripper. Sno knew about the theory, but…

That was pretty much all she knew.

She was his partner. He loved her like a sister. But gods damn it, Sno had all the social capability of a house brick.

“Hey, pard’. I can get my mother to jump out of a cake.”

Case in point. “What?”

“Family discount. Mom jumps out of a cake, does a few dirty dances, everyone has fun and we have like, a hundred spare for more booze.” She looked up from the clipboard. “It’s win-win.”

She was genuine. Sweet Fantasy Jesus, she was genuine. “It’s. Your. Mother.”

“Yes?”

“That’s fifteen levels of inappropriate.”

“Weird. ‘Cause twenty of the guys have her pinups in their lockers, and–”

Avi put his fingers in his ears and started humming. He only stopped when she stopped talking.

“It’s cool,” said Sno. “I’ve known she’s been doing this for years and she has like three ready-to-steal-’em babysitters for the twins and–”

“Your mother had twins?” Avi panicked. “You have baby sibs?”

“She found ‘em by a dumpster and is in the middle of upcycling them. Chill.”

“Wait. Stop. Someone abandoned twins by a dumpster…”

“No, they were kind’a living there themselves. You remember the Taaco case out by Tre Llew-Ddion?”

“Those twins?” Oh, this was not good. Orphaned at three, shuffled between assorted asshole family members and shitty foster homes for a year. Runaways who dropped off the map at five. A chain of suspicious fires, horrible accommodations, peculiar deaths, and murders most foul. And now they resurfaced in the illegal care of an internet stripper who was also his partner’s mother. “This couldn’t get any worse if the kids were boosting cars, Sno.”

“Believe it or not, mom’s cleaned up her act since she had me in her seventies. She’s… she’s actually better care and providing more of a stable environment than anywhere official. I’ve checked.”

“Your mother. Who played Busty Juggs in Tug Rats.”

“Yeah?”

“A better care provider.”

“She doesn’t do any hinky stuff when the kids are home. Gods. She’s a train wreck, not a monster.” Sno started ticking off the checklist on her fingers. “The apartment’s clean. Her studio’s always locked, the kids have proper food, good clothes, and they’re going to school. She makes sure they have good babysitters when she’s livestreaming. They’re even seeing some doctors about the malnutrition and parasites they picked up both on the street and via official channels. She’s… she’s actually being a halfway decent foster parent.”

Avi forced the conversation back on track. “And you want her to jump out of a cake for my Stag party.”

“The kids need books. They’re voracious readers.”

*

Of course a couple of the guys dressed up in SWAT gear to haul him away from his apartment. That was pretty much SOP for a City Watch Stag Nite. Instead of the come-along wagon, there was a party bus and Sno had stocked it with Redcheek cider. Avi’s favourite booze, besides the microbrews he made himself.

The party music was fairly typical. Nothing overtly offensive even though little of it was his particular jam. He could dance to it - more and more as he imbibed - and have a modicum of fun.

Then they arrived at the bar that was the actual party venue. A bar that had a stage with poles on it and a suspiciously huge cake.

She didn’t, Avi begged the universe. Please, gods, tell me she did not…

“Oh no,” said Sno with blatantly fake sincerity. “They delivered the wedding cake early and to the wrong address…”

Just then, half a dozen nuns entered the bar.

“Whoah, whoah, hey. This is a private party, ladies. Sisters.”

“Oh we won’t be here long,” singsonged the lead nun. “We’re gathering funds for orphaned and abandoned children. Just a five minute song and dance and we’ll be on our way.”

Waitasecond… since when do nuns wear heels? Avi had just enough time to ponder that before some heavy Eighties synth started pounding out of some small but powerful speakers. Bananarama’s Venus started pounding and a well-endowed figure burst forth from the cake.

Sno’s mom did not jump out of the cake. The stripper in the cake was none other than Hornee D'Lite, a Tiefling co-star in Tug Rats and regular feature in the local brand of direct-to-disk porno.

No. Sno’s mom was the lead nun. She had managed to gather together the entire fucking cast of Tug Rats for a one-night-only live performance.

This could not have got more mortifying if Sno had been trying. That was the regrettable part. Sno had honestly been trying to make this a night to remember.

Well… she wasn’t wrong…

Schools with a choir program always went after the Elves like starving, rabid dogs after a hunk of steak. It shouldn’t have surprised La’ming Ton, new mother of two tiny, adorable, six-year-old twins that the choir program swarmed during their first day of school. Frankly, she was shocked that someone got little mister no-words Koko to string together a complete sentence.

That kid was jittery as hell around strangers at the best of times. Hell, the first time they met, he only got into her apartment because he was out cold and Lulu trusted her. The fact that she had food when he woke up gained her a minimum of trust, likewise the fact that she didn’t force them into anything.

How he had agreed to choir had to be a tale involving major intervention from the gods. Probably all of them.

Now, though, La’ming was glad.

For such little devils, they both had voices like angels. Sweet, pure voices that never missed a note. It was almost enough to sweep one away into paradise…

Blip-blip k’chow boom “HEY DO YOU WANT TO MEET HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA? MY NAME’S TAMMY AND–”

Several people were glaring at the kid in the next row forward, and slightly to the left of La’ming. Some were shushing him. La’ming politely tapped him on the shoulder. “Could you silence your phone, please?” she whispered. “Some people want to listen to this.”

“Some people can bite me,” he said.

Well. She had asked nicely. Now it was her turn to play nasty.

She focussed the spell intensely onto one person. Specifically, a much smaller bubble than the usual twenty feet. Then, blessing the fact that she took a couple of levels at Bard-dom, made a gesture behind his seat and whispered, “Pianissimo, pianissimo, pianissimo, pianissimo.”

Ha. That should shut him up for the duration. Which should be extended because of the smaller volume.

His mother had to be somewhere… but La’ming wasn’t budging until her babies had their solos. Koko’s soul-cleansing extended arpeggio… closely followed by Lulu’s irrepressible tempo change into something that made the entire audience tap their feet and burst out in applause.

Damn straight. Those were her babies. Shining like they deserved to. La’ming blew them both kisses and sidled out of her seat to have a little Word with Susan Hakniid, who was busy haranguing the talent night’s director for a slot for her idiot lump of a son, Jason.

Everyone knew Jason. If it were possible, he would be put away for wasting carbon, air, and everyone’s time… but you couldn’t convince Susan of that. She was utterly convinced that her darling little Jason was a gift to the world and only needed one real chance to show it.

If he’s such a gift, how can I return it? La’ming wondered, not for the first time. It took her three goes to get Susan’s attention.

“–and furthermore, your own school charter says that every talented student will get an opportunity to shine, I was talking…”

“We noticed,” said La’ming. “All the way through other childrens’ opportunities to shine. Or is your son the only child who matters?”

Only now did Susan notice the front three rows of parents, friends, and family all glaring in her direction.

“We have sent numerous notes about your son, Jason, and his… lack of co-operative skills,” said the director, who finally had a word in edgewise. “His only talent on display tonight is that of being a disturbance. Something he’s obviously inherited.”

“You might want to have a word with him during intermission,” said La’ming. “If he thinks he can make noise during others’ performances, other kids might think they’re allowed to make noise during his performance.”

“Assuming he can spend a semester without any behaviour demerits,” said the director in a hurried addition. “Furthermore, as per the school rulebook, any further disturbance by you or your son will force us to remove you both from the premises.”

“This is a conspiracy to hold him back,” Susan hissed. “My lawyers are going to be involved.”

Thank the gods that the courts found security footage to be more admissible than Susan Hakniid ever did. Meanwhile, La’ming got to field her babies as they came off stage.

“You. Were. Amazing,” she said scooping them up into her arms and delivering a kiss each onto their darling little cheeks. She carried them towards her vacated seat and whispered, “Wanna blow the rest of the evening off for pizza and ice cream?”

Two matching grins and four matching thumbs’ up gestures. The perfect finish to a not-so-perfect night.

The Bureau of Balance prides itself in the ability to hire the best of the best. The best of Bards, the best of Fighters, the best of Wizards, the best Arcanists, the best Tinkerers… And, of course, the best of thinkers.

The three of them worked in the Dirty Tricks Department. Disguises, interesting devices, and nefarious maneuvers.

Rogues, after all, didn’t know everything.

Madam Director didn’t usually allow families on the moon. Too many opportunities for stress, angst, and other dramas. Yet there were, as for all things, special occasions. Just as Tres Horny Bois were allowed straight into becoming Reclaimers, this particular little family were allowed to be the entire brain trust and the department.

A Sea Elf named La’ming Ton was nefarious maneuvers. She spent most of her time adapting her memoirs into pamphlets concerning assorted behaviours for agents out on the field. How to confound a trail. How to mislead a tail. How to use a foe’s psychology against them. How to weigh someone in the balance and judge their character. How to de-escalate conflict. It was amazing what La’ming Ton had picked up in two-hundred and some years of her checkered past.

Her wife, Mak’arune, was chief of disguises. She was mistress of the budget, chief of alternate sources, and could tell where any given thread came from and what it was most likely to be used for with two minutes, a magnifying glass, and - if dye is involved - the ability to taste it.

The chief tinkerer of Team Brain Trust is none other than their adopted daughter, taken up by the couple in a fit of synchronized Luume’irma. Her name is Agatha Tremaine and she’s in the vicinity of ten years old. She’s also a tinkerer, an alchemist, and almost as nosey as…

Taako kept thinking of a small annoying boy on a train. They’d make a terrifying match, come to think of it.

She was ten years old, and explaining the functioning of a specific device as if she were talking to a toddler. That was more or less fine. He was still playing the idiot wizard, but… he wasn’t even trying to overdo it for this kid.

“Do you have an even nerdier brother?” said Magnus.

“Do you cross-dress?” said Merle.

Taako snorted and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that this little nerd wasn’t related to the other little nerd. An idiot wizard couldn’t say as much out loud. However, an idiot wizard could fuck things up in amusing ways…

Oooh, that looked interesting. “What does this button do?”

The orb it was attached to released a blinding flash of light. So blinding that he was concerned for his vision for a good twenty minutes.

His first vision was a condescending baby administering special eyedrops. “Have we learned something, today?”

It was the sneering that did it. He just had to play, now. “Oh, that was a fun toy. Got any more?”

She said, “Nobody can be as stupid as you’re pretending to be.”

Boo. No fun.

“Yes he can,” said Magnus.

“He really can,” said Merle.

At which point, her parents turned up. “Which one of you assholes is messing with our baby’s inventions?” demanded La’ming.

Closely following her was Mak’arune, carrying a large bag. “Is anyone hurt? Baby, are you okay?” She, unlike her wife, was half-Elven. However, like her wife, any Luume-adoption inclined the adopter to repeatedly acknowledge their adoptee as their baby.

“It’s fine, mama. Just a dingus playing with buttons. I saw it coming so I had my lenses down.” She demonstrated, flipping down what had appeared to be an interesting head decoration but was actually heavily smoked glass on a frame that collided neatly with her existing spectacles. “Even then, I can find the eye drops by feel.”

“You sneaky little shit,” cooed Taako approvingly. “I like this nerd!”

“This is our baby you’re talking about,” menaced Mak’arune, normally the shyest and most unassuming member of the Bureau.

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” said Magnus as he received the eye drops. “That’s the Taako seal of approval. (Ow, those sting…) It means he likes your daughter.”

La’ming was glaring at him. “You’re seven colours of messed up in the head, aren’t you?”

“Six, last count,” said Taako. “The new one must be my own special variety.” He dared peruse some other inventions with his hands behind his back. “All part of the brand, now.”

Agatha whispered, “He has learned,” in Elven, as if it were a minor miracle.

Taako had to pretend deafness lest he had to act offended around two very dangerous and very protective mothers.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

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Submitted for your approval - Merle Highchurch, sole holder of 1999 Party Points. None can hold a candle to him at partying. Even the party gods hold him in awe. He has not held a party so huge and rowdy that he passed out and woke as the new deity of parties and partying… yet.

Nevertheless, the Dwarf knows how to tie one on.

Chesney’s is in full swing. The liquor is flowing, the music is blasting, and the nibbles are on fucking point because Merle got Taako to make them. He was insulted that Merle would dare to put on store bought pretzels and cocktail franks and therefore made his own.

Elves tend to exceed at everything they do. The Taaco twins are merely more so since they feel they have more to prove. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been surviving and proving it for the better part of two hundred years, they still have to go overboard every single time.

So, too, does Merle.

He’s had fifteen tankards of his Special Nectar Mead[1] and is dancing with anyone who can still stand after five. That list includes the Reaper crew, half of Team Sweet Flips, and (just barely) Taako, who won’t be outdone by his sister this time, damnit.

The decorative plants around Chesney’s started to dance along with the beat. Lianas and creepers spread out, wriggling like they, too, were dancing.

“Stoppit…” warned Lucretia.

“The party’s gonna come out somewhere,” he said, still jiggling. “If it ain’t the greens then…” he shrugged. 1999 party points, under certain circumstances, could alter reality itself.

“There are children present, Merle,” snarled Lucretia.

“Aight, your funeral,” Merle gestured and the plants returned to what passed for normal. It took a few more moments for different realities to assert themselves.

“AWRIGHT BOUNCE HOUUUUUSSE!” Magnus yawped, shedding his sharp corners and rushing in.

“HEY DAD, WHERE’D YOU GET THE BALL PIT?”

“HOLY FUCK IT’S AMUSE BOUCHE!”

“WHEE! FUCK YEAH! FIREWORKS!”

In ten minutes, the party would be off the hook.

[1] At this point in the game, it’s not wise to ask what the nectar is, or the exact process involved when Merle brews it. Suffice to stay that Barry invented a special, non-exploding still to brew it in within five cycles.

Agatha:

Certain things could only be learned by cohabiting. Such as the presence of a very familiar box. A cube of purple with grey features, tucked away and slightly out of normal notice. She knew that box. She used to have one just like it.

That was a Fantasy Gamecube.

She quickly investigated. There was just one game in there. Fantasy Animal Crossing. A game for up to four players.

She couldn’t help herself. She extracted her Fantasy Gamecube and her own savegame and managed to wrangle her transfer over to Angus’ village.

There. Now they could play together if they wanted.

He’d figure it out soon enough. Meanwhile, she could plant some peach trees in his orchards.

Angus:

Someone had been messing with his village. When he logged on, someone had already pulled all the weeds. There was a new house and some saplings in his orchard… and a letter in his mailbox.

_Dear Angus,_ it read, _I found your little secret and had to join mine with yours. Perhaps we can enter the fishing competition together, one day._

It was from Agatha.

Angus couldn’t help but smile. It was wonderful to know that the woman he loved also had a penchant for the drama-free meditative peace and quiet of Fantasy Animal Crossing.

Sno:

Her package had arrived! She daren’t open it at work, so she hid it behind her coat in her locker until it was time to knock off and head for home. Even then, she hid it inside her coat as she walked at a faster pace.

All the way to the tiny flat in an overcrowded apartment building with cardboard walls and neighbours who were living noise violations.

Only once she was locked inside her sanctuary did she dare take it out of hiding and open it up.

Her heart thundered, all the same, as she took the garment out of its protective packaging. Layer upon layer of frills and lace. Autumn-toned, but beautiful all the same. It was everything she’d craved.

Sno had had a lifetime of conforming to other people’s expectations. Being a refined and graceful Elf for her grandparents. Being one of the boys for the City Watch. Only when she was alone did she dare…

She stripped out of her uniform, all the way down to her underwear, and slid it on. Beautiful. Frilly. Lacy. Feminine. Steampunk skirt. The blouse was still under construction so she paired it with her Fantasy Steam Powered Giraffe shirt.

She twirled just to watch the layers flair out. Struck poses just to watch herself in the mirror and feel…

Just for a moment…

Like herself.

The curtains were drawn. The shutters were closed. The door was locked. Nobody else was going to see what was going on behind these closed doors. Mak’arune had retreated into privacy to get into her costume. La’ming retreated into her privacy, about to get dressed up in something fancy for her wife.

They’d agreed to this for their first anniversary. A quiet night in while each of them dressed up in what they felt sexiest in. It was an involved process for the both of them, taking some significant amount of time. It also required one or both of them to answer the door in concealing robes as the deliveries arrived.

Finally, all was ready. The last delivery arrived, the door was locked, and no more interruptions could happen. They set up the table, lit the candles, and braced themselves for the final reveal.

“All ready?” squeaked Mak’arune.

La’ming’s hand was so tight on the opening of her robe that it hurt. “All ready,” she quavered. “On three.”

They counted to three together. Four times. Laughing each time. The fourth one, though, was the charm. The robes came off.

“Wow,” Mak’arune said. “You look like a princess.”

“What are you wearing?”

Demure, constantly-covered Mak’arune who blushed at the word ‘underpants’ was dressed… pretty much in Fantasy Gaffa Tape[1]. There was more of Mak’arune showing right now than had ever been seen by any mortal eyes. Perhaps even on the day of her birth. “It’s a swimming costume.”

Meanwhile, normally brash, exhibitionist La’ming Ton is in the floofiest, frilliest, most ornate and concealing Lolita dress. Frilly socks, frilly pantaloons, frilly… everything. There was not an inch anywhere that wasn’t edged in lace. “It’s… Lolita. I like to feel like a princess.”

“You look adorable,” said Mak’arune.

“You look like you’re in for a lot of pain, tonight. Is that… actually tape?”

“Yes.”

“How do you take that off without removing half your lovely skin?”

“Warm oil sponge bath,” said Mak’arune. “I scent it with flower petals.”

“So on all those days when you smelled extra special…”

Mak’arune blushed as she nodded. “The day after. I had something like this on underneath my clothes.” She bit her lip. “And… on the days you were… extra bouncy?”

“I’d had a Princess Day, the day before. Yeah.”

Mak’arune wearing next to nothing, grasped the lace-gloved hands of La’ming. “We don’t need to hide this from each other, any more, do we?

[1] This is a thing. Google ‘Gaffa Tape Swimsuit’ and be amazed.

Kravitz sighed with concealed relief when he couldn’t find Taako in any of his standard places to hang around in. He had found the hidden room some time ago and, whenever Taako wasn’t around, had worked on it to turn it into his secret lair.

Taako thought Kravitz was a gentleman of quality and, for the most part, he was correct. Kravitz did enjoy the finer things in life. Wine, good music, better food, Taako, of course… but there was one little thing that he illogically loved and couldn’t get enough of. It was something not entirely great, not really. He loved it all the same but… He had to keep it his guilty little secret.

Kravitz put on his Fantasy Headphones and slid an album on the player. In mere moments, he was taken away into the rhythm and what passed for a melody. In a few more moments, he was singing along.

“…A twist of fate makes life worthwhile/ You are gold and silver/ I said I wasn’t gonna lose my head/ But then pop! Goes my heart…”

Completely unaware that Taako had found him and was listening in. The adoring smile might have showed Kravitz that Taako was loving this in a very goopy way, but… he wasn’t looking.

The smell of popcorn roused Lup from her usual night time coma. The other side of their bed was empty and she felt a vertiginous moment of terror that she was back inside her Umbrastaff. But no. The night light was glowing and there were other sense aids like the fluffy hanging on the wall and the tinkling of the wind chimes outside their window.

Enough to help ground her, he had said, in case he was on the shitter or something.

The light wasn’t on in the nearest privy. Lup got up and wrestled her nightshirt back down before stepping out into the otherwise quiet halls of their house.

No glow in the lab. Okay. Wait. The living room was alight? Lup padded silently towards it, her sharp Elven ears picking up on a low murmur of voices.

I swear to fuck, if he’s brought Death Criminals back over so he can grill them on their techniques again…

He wasn’t entertaining captured bounties. He was entertaining himself. With a big bowl of popcorn, some Fantasy Mountain Dew, and the Fantasy TV. Where some guy with hair like a half-sucked mango seed was explaining how the Starblaster and its crew was responsible for ninety percent of Faerun’s historical mysteries. With increasingly ludicrous proof.

Barry was enraptured.

Oh my gods, I can’t not love him more for this…

She smiled, watching him as he enjoyed bad food and worse Fantasy Television. Because she was who she was, though, she was also attempting to think of ways to use this to her advantage.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]

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Magnus:

Magnus put the mask on before he was out of sight of the travel orb but definitely after he had ditched the other two. Hood up, inconspicuous clothes on. Nobody need know it was him out here, headed for that place, doing these things.

In the unlikely event that anyone from the Bureau was here, they had enough plausible deniability to say they couldn’t be sure it was him.

Besides, he’d more or less earned this. Tough job, hard work. He really should have a day off like today. No questions asked. And if anyone did ask questions, he could probably flatten them.

He slunk into the side-entrance, taking all the covert byways into the heart of the business. Every city had a place like this, but this one was one of the better establishments.

“Welcome to Goldcliff Day Spa, anonymous sir,” chirped one of the clerks at the desk. “How may we ease your worries?”

Magnus hunkered up to the desk, hunching over and whispering. “I want the full body beauty treatment and that thing where ya soak in a tub of mud with cucumber on your eyes.”

“Certainly, sir. Would you like a mani-pedi with that?”

Merle:

Every now and then, a man has certain needs. It’s even more true for a Dwarf. He’d done everything he could to ditch his teammates in the thick of the crowds and then followed his nose to a discrete establishment down in the darker corners of Hunchback Lane.

Sure, these days, a Dwarf could fish or farm cattle and nobody would think less of them for it, but back in the ancient times? There were only two kinds of meat that a Dwarf could readily lay their hands on. Rat, and… call it ‘tunnel pork’.

There was something instinctual about it. Some kind of ancestral craving. Or harkening back to the remembrance festivals of his origin tribe when it was one of the tastes of his overlong childhood. Sometimes, you just had to go and get it.

They joked about it now. There was some smartass fella who had a whole book series with it as a running joke when mentioning Dwarven cuisine. Nevertheless, it wasn’t a popular joke and drove places like this -ha- even further underground.

He found it at last by the distinctive smell. Following his nose into the deeper-down of Little Khaz-Modan. On the other end of a twisty little alley that you had to know how to look for.

He poneyed up to the counter, put down his gold, and said, “One ratburger with all the mushrooms. And a large pot of mustard.”

Taako:

Nobody should ever know. Nobody could ever know. He’d evaded his teammates with superlative skill. Cast Disguise Self in order to purchase the cursed thing, and now made his way into a discrete Fantasy No-tell Motel where the rooms were rented by the hour and smelled like it too.

Fine. Fair enough. He wasn’t even planning to touch the beds.

He put the ‘do not disturb’ sign out, locked the door. Jammed a chair under the handle. Drew the curtains. Crept into the tiny bathroom and locked that door behind him, too.

Nobody would ever know…

Nevertheless, he ran a full Perception and Insight check before using his body to jam the door shut.

There, sitting on the cold and filthy tiles, he withdrew his illicit prize from his bag of holding. He was a five-star fucking chef. He could make these - and much better than these - in his fucking sleep. Nevertheless, there was something about the ones you could buy.

Maybe it was the mass manufactory. Maybe it was the way they tried to fancy it up with a fucking zigzag of cheap icing. Maybe it was the fucktons of sugar that also acted as a preservative. Maybe it was all the other preservatives.

Whatever it was, he had to have it.

The Fantasy Plastic cover cracked like thunder as he struggled with the ingenious seal. He flinched as it popped open, barely sparing it from the hideous floor.

He didn’t even peel the gigantic patty paper off the outside, just started digging into it with his manicured fingers. Shovelling it into his mouth handful by atrocious handful.

Cheap, yet rich chocolate assailed his senses. Taako moaned in pleasure, still trying to keep it down in spite of it all. The guilt of it. The need for it.

Nobody would ever know that the famous Taako from TV, five-star chef and once star of Sizzle it Up! With Taako had to occasionally indulge in cheap, crappy, store-bought, mass-produced chocolate cake.

He would eat the whole thing, and love it.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 12]

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Promotions didn’t happen often amongst the Elven portion of the NWPD, so Snocoun’s ascent upwards in the ranks was reason to throw a huge party. Sno hadn’t wanted any kind of public attention, so Avi had arranged literally everything. The venue, the caterers, and the entertainment.

Everything had been arranged by text. Email, messaging systems. He hadn’t known…

He hadn’t known the Bard would be so lovely.

Avi was staring. He knew he was staring. He could feel the blush starting in his cheeks. He could imagine quite a number of interesting futures with that man on the dias.

All dependant on his being able to talk to him first.

“You’re drooling, Burnsides,” Sno murmured in his ear. “See something you like?”

Avi swallowed and quickly looked away from the violinist. “Who? Me? What makes you say that?”

Sno quickly picked up on where Avi was pointedly not looking and smiled like a shark. “Oooh… Lust at first sight… The Bard?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

“I think you li-ike him. You want to ki-iss him. So go and hu-ug him…”

“Shut up…” The blush crept outwards from his cheeks.

Sno took a deep breath and fortified herself. “Welp. It’s about time I took a bullet for you. We’re buddies. It’s about time I did you a good turn.”

Avi, who knew exactly how awful Sno was at interpersonal relationships, cringed and blushed harder. “Sno, no…”

“Sno, yes.”

Avi could only whimper and attempt to hide in the crowd. He rolled a nat 1 on his stealth check.

*

Johann had been quietly eyeing the guy who’d hired him half the night. He knew that Elves - even half-Elves like himself - had a certain effect on Humanmen. He was living proof. As the night progressed, the dude was turning increasingly interesting shades of red.

Uh-oh. Here came the partner. Johann had heard the others here calling her ‘the cold front’ half the night and ‘the big chill’ the other half. Judging by the look on her face, she was about to be up to shenanigans. Probably something like requesting Freebird or Louie Louie. Junk like that.

“Hey. Bard…”

“Name’s Johann.”

“Yeah. Uh. Do you, like… have somebody?”

What? This was not what he anticipated. Not at all. He and Redguy had been chatting for a while. Maybe Red was that colour because he knew she was this awful. “Whut?” he said.

“You know like…” her hands juggled invisible balls between them. "A life partner. Significant other. Snuggle buddy. Whatever. Do you come home to a flesh person on the regular?”

Flesh person. Holy shit, that was awful. No wonder Red, over there, was turning vermillion. “…no?”

“Are you looking for someone?”

Gods. She was making it worse. "Uh. Lady. I’m not… You’re not my -uh- cuppa tea…“ How to back outta this gig without being arrested or whatever? Over in the corner, Red was trying to hide inside his own hands.

“What?” she said.

“What?” he said.

“No! I mean. I’m not into you. Not like that. Um. A friend'a mine… he’s been… Look. Do you like guys?” This whole situation could not get more awkward even if they were having an awkward contest.

“This conversation is getting harder and harder to follow,” Johann confessed.

“So… my partner. Not partner-partner, but like, on the job partner? He thinks you’re cute.” Her face twisted weirdly and after a moment, Johann realised she was trying to smile. “He’s my buddy and I’m trying to do him a solid, here.”

Across the room, now valiantly attempting to hide in a corner despite the lack of cover, Red yelled, “DAMNIT, SNO!”

Buzz around the room increased significantly. Johann knew that buzz. Bets were being laid. More than that would be being laid, if he played his cards right.

“That’s him,” said Sno.

“Oh. Yeah.” Johann was certain he was failing to pretend he hadn’t noticed Red. “Kind’a cute…” especially when he was red-faced and cringing in anticipation of imminent disaster.

Sno turned and yelled, “HE SAYS YOU’RE CUTE!”

Gods, it was amazing the poor fellow didn’t spontaneously combust. If the path to true love was paved with soul-crushing mortification, this lady was the gods-damned entire road works. “Lay off the poor fellow, huh. I don’t want him to die before we get a chance to talk.”

“His name’s Avi Burnsides and I will figure out a way for you two to talk to each other tonight if it kills me.” She had a slip of paper ready and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “But just in case, that’s his number.”

Ah shit. “M’kay. Real quick. Favourite song?”

“Istanbul Not Constantinople by They Might Be Giants.”

“Cool.” He pitched his voice to carry. “This next number is at the request of the celebrant…” and then proceeded to play the living fuck out of Istanbul.

*

Meanwhile, over in the corner of Avi’s eternal shame…

“I hate you and I want you to shrivel up and die,” said Avi.

“No you don’t,” Sno handed him another Redcheek Cider. The strong stuff, since they’d either be walking or catching a cab home. Besides, her buddy obviously needed some Dutch Courage. “He said you’d have to pay him in person? Someone’s been stealing his mail.”

Avi didn’t believe it for a second. “We already have each others’ emails, and I can pay him by e-transfer.”

“Nope. You can’t do it. There’s been a SNAFU with his bank. They’re taking too long to give him money people send him. Dude’s running a bit short. He needs to pay rent y’know?”

“Ahuh,” said Avi in his this-is-a-cartload-of-horseshit voice. “What kind of SNAFU?”

_Ah, crap…_ “Uh. Like. You know on Paypal when you get too many payments, too fast? They -uh- freeze your account? It’s like that, only they’re auditing every e-payment. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“Huh. Never heard of that,” he said. “Shouldn’t be a big deal to hand him a cheque.”

“And thank him for a marvellous job at playing tonight?”

“Especially that one. I didn’t know you were into They Might Be Giants.”

“Who isn’t?”

“Sno…”

“I panicked. It was the only violin piece I could think of.”

He patted her arm. “Honesty’s very important between friends, Ton, Sno.”

“I’m letting you get away with that tonight, Burnsides. Thin ice,” she growled. “Drink your cider.”

She sipped lightly - not that alcohol had a lot of effect on Elves - and tipped up his elbow a little to encourage him to drink more.

“You’re an ass, Sno,” Avi coughed, having had some of the cider go the wrong way.

“Yeah, and you’re the only one who can handle it. Drink up. You’re gonna talk to the man.”

“Okay.”

“Tonight.”

“Okay.”

“And say more than two words in succession.”

Now he looked stricken. “Aw, come on…” He was back into turning a fine shade of crimson. “I can’t do that.”

“Not yet, you can’t,” she had a bottle of his finest, richest home brew. “Follow that with some of this, and you might be able to say a few words to him before the end of the evening.”

Avi whimpered.

“Or…” she said. “I act as your go-between all night.”

Avi sank the rest of his Cider in a sudden and desperate thirst.

*

Johann took a break for food and something non-alcoholic. Two more sets, tops, and ninety percent of these cops would be so pie-eyed, they’d be pouring them into their cabs and ubers.

Uh oh. Here came the lady of the evening. Shoving her partner towards Johann with a great amount of reluctance on his part.

“No, no, no, no… I still can’t do it… Sno-o-o-o-o-o…”

“Say ‘hello’,” coached Sno.

Avi, halfway sloshed and very red in the face. “Uhm. Hi? You play real good.”

“Thanks,” said Johann. “I practice daily.”

“Say, ‘I think you’re cute’,” coached Sno.

Avi went even redder. “That… um… youroutfitlooksrealnice…”

“Close enough.”

Johan was starting to feel a little pink around the cheeks, himself. “Yeah, the entertainment company makes me wear it.”

“Say, ‘maybe I should see you out of uniform’,” said Sno.

“NOT LIKE THAT!”

Johann snorted. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind seeing you off the clock, either. You free weekends?”

“Alternate ones,” said Sno. “This coming weekend is completely free.”

“…eeeeeeeee…” said Avi, cringing in mortification.

“Saturday or Sunday?” said Johann. “You a morning person, cutie?”

“…kyeeee…” Avi gasped. “…yousaidI’mcute?”

“He’s a very annoying morning person,” said Sno. “Pick a day.”

“Saturday’s cool,” said Johann. “I know a great breakfast place on Swine Row. One thirty-four. Know it?”

Sno had picked his pocket and was plugging details into his phone. “He’ll find it. I’ll make certain he doesn’t freak out and dash.”

“I got a quicker way,” Johann said. “Want some motivation, sweetie?”

Avi just kind of squeaked.

Johann leaned over and kissed him. A friendly smooch on the cheek, but he put a lot into it. “See you Saturday? About nine in the morning?”

“…uh huh…?” Avi squeaked.

“Fantastic.” He was a lot red in the face, now. “Got any favourite songs? And please don’t say ‘Istanbul’.”

“Um. Day in the Life by the Beatles?”

“Aw shit yeah,” Johann grinned.

Sno dinged her champagne glass with a fork. “Everyone? Everyone raise your glasses for Officer Burnsides… because he has a date this weekend!”

The entire room cheered as one half paid some money to the other half.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]

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Avi slowed as he passed the fire escape. It was getting dark, and it was getting chilly, and that little girl that had been up there this morning, was still up there now. Sure, she had a light to read by, but she was looking mighty cold. All huddled up with her knees inside her dress.

Sno, who had marched ahead, stopped and turned back. “What?” she said.

Avi nodded his head in the kids’ general direction. “I think something smells wrong with a situation, here.”

Their chief had them on the shittiest jobs. Enforcing CPS visits, rules, and decrees. Separating kids from the only families they knew. Sweeping kids up off the streets when they’d been thrown out of their homes… sometimes recovering sad, small bodies from culverts, dumpsters, and gutters. They got to have a second sense about things being hinky.

Sno saw it in a second, of course. “Aw shit. D-U-N?” Quasi-forensics code for Dead Upstairs Neighbour.

City life lead to some fucked up shit, sometimes. Like neighbours not knowing that a fellow neighbour had died until the foul-smelling ichor leaked into their own areas. Or children living with the deceased bodies of their parents until something forced the information out into the open.

This tiny little figure on the fire escape was small enough to not know what death looked like. Just like a certain pair of twins in her case file who had cooked for themselves for two months before… Well. That had been a nasty one.

Avi, usually the smiling, welcome face of the NWPD, walked in his patented Friendly Goof manner towards the fire escape. “Hi there, cutie…” he cooed.

She hid behind her book with barely a whimper.

“So much for the Burnsides’ famous rustic hospitality,” Sno teased. She edged around to the kids’ peripheral vision and did her best impersonation of harmlessness. It came off as somewhere between burning fuse, loaded gun, and growling dog with orange eyebrows. “Hey. My name’s Sno. What’s yours?”

She didn’t hide, but rather peeked past her book with one eye.

*

“Hey, up there,” the blue-ish police woman waved again. “Can I come up?" 

Lucretia looked down at the officers. There was the nice young man and the scary blue lady and they weren’t going away like everyone else did. She’d seen the scary blue lady around the neighbourhood, and had once seen her taking down a bad guy at the bodega. She was the good kind of scary. Lucretia nodded. 

She winced when the fire escape shook, all the same. 

"No, Burnsides. You stay down here. If we both come up, we could spook her. She gave me permission." 

The nice young man said, "Okay, but when she screams at you, I’m coming up there for mop-up." 

"Just gimmie one of those lollipops you always have and I’ll try it your way.”

Lucretia watched as the scary lady came up. Watched as she slowed down the closer she came to Lucretia’s sunny spot. Watched in silence and read the name, “Ton” on her badges. There were other words, too. Serve and Protect. 

“Pretty cold up here, isn’t it?”

Lucretia had to agree. She nodded. 

“I see you have an umbrella for rain. That’s smart. Do you have something for the cold? Or would you like my jacket?" 

Lucretia glanced inside the window into her home. She didn’t like going in there if she could help it. The smell was getting real bad. She took a risk and pointed to the jacket. It was nice and warm when scary Ton wrapped it around her. 

"Is it bad inside?” said scary Ton.

Lucretia had to nod. It was very bad inside. 

“Nobody hurts you,” it was more a statement than a question. Police were clever and saw lots of things. Scary Ton would notice things like bruises. Or little stains that weren’t washed out of Lucretia’s cleanest clothes.

Lucretia nodded again. 

“Who’s looking after you, sweetie?" 

You had to be honest with police. Lucretia pointed at herself. 

"Are your people sick?”

Lucretia thought about that one. They were sick. Mom and Dad had been very, very sick. And then they stopped coughing and throwing up and stopped breathing and started smelling bad. She shrugged. 

“Can I go see?” said Scary Ton. 

She couldn’t work out why she wanted to, but Lucretia nodded. 

Scary Ton went inside, and coughed some, too. Then she came back outside. “You’re right. It’s very bad in there. I can take you somewhere that’s better. Would you like that?" 

Lucretia nodded, and when Scary Ton came all the way out onto the fire escape, she latched onto the Police Officer’s leg and wouldn’t let go.

The nice young man down on the street thought this was so funny, but Lucretia just wanted to feel safe. Scary Ton was scarier than anything else in the whole world and would protect Lucretia from everything, she just knew it. 

Lucretia wanted ‘safe’ more than anything in the whole wide world.

“Okay, okay…” Scary Ton cooed. “I can’t take you anywhere like that. Come on… up a bit… up to my hip, huh? I need that foot for later.”

It took some wrestling, but Lucretia wound up on Scary Ton’s hip and the coat got put back on with Lucretia still inside. Scary Ton held her close and patted her hair and she was warm and smelled nice and Lucretia didn’t want to feel scared when she was like that.

*

Sno lowered down the kid’s supplies in a bag with the help of some string. Her coming down the fire escape with the kid on one hip was a complicated matter, but she was agile enough to get them both down without trouble.

“Double ten-fifty-five,” she said. 10-55. Coroner’s case.

She flinched away from Avi’s offer of touch.

“Hey, it’s okay, Lucretia…” she’d learned the name inside the apartment. A name plate on her door plus confirmation via found ID’s gave her name as Lucretia Clarke. Her own attempts at writing practically screamed that she preferred her full name, rather than Luce, Lucy, or any other derivative diminutive. “This is Avi. He’s my friend. And you know what? He’s always got lollipops.” The last sentence had been added in a conspiratorial whisper.

Avi, on cue, used some sleight of hand to produce one as if by magic. This one was yellow, like Lucretia’s pale blonde hair. “Ah? You can take it, it’s okay.”

Lucretia burrowed into the confines of Sno’s coat. “Guess she’s not a fan of candy. Or she’s not a fan of you.”

“Fine, I’ll call it in. You keep her cosy.”

Sno juggled the kid on her hip a little. Amazed at every turn how someone that small could get so heavy. There’d be no getting this kid to let go, that was a white-knuckle grip she had on Sno’s clothes. “You know… if you feel like talking, you can tell me why you like me. I’m not exactly popular with kids like you.”

Lucretia didn’t say a word, just closed her eyes so she could listen intensely to Sno’s chest.

Judging by the condition of the bodies, she hadn’t heard an adult’s heartbeat or breathing for five months.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered. “I got’cha. I got’cha.” One breath to steady herself. Two. Three. And, oh fuck… she was purring for this kid.

Now what?

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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