Under Pressure

"We're all gathered here today to witness a truly beautiful event: the death of Otto." Deirdre, host, waved her ceremonial toaster around. The rest of the fae in attendance, mostly pixies and leprechauns, lifted—or attempted to lift—their own toasters. She'd forgotten what the toasters were supposed to represent exactly, other than their triumph and humanity's inferiority, but most things usually represented that. She turned to her husband, and smirked at him. She recalled their dalliance in the cemetery, their wedding in the woods and the escapades that followed. She was almost sad to be rid of him now. He was, perhaps, the funnest human she'd ever ensnared. Out of fondness, or nostalgia, or something else entirely, she gestured to him and her gaze softened. "Do you have anything you'd like to say, Otto? You're allowed some words before you die." The pixies gasped in unison; it was customary to get the humans to be as silent as possible, during these things—their voices were largely annoying. Deirdre shook her head and quickly explained to them, "Otto is my guest, and my human. He represents me, too. I want him to speak." And so she allowed it.

How the hell had this become his life? It was a thought that crossed his mind rather often and one that crossed his mind right now as he made his way up to the spot that Deirdre had ordered him to come along to. She’d instructed him to clean up, wear a nice nose piercing (for he’d gotten a selection from the store with his punishment) explaining the black steel ring that pierced his right nostril and not tell anyone about what he was doing. Things had not been good of late. Whatever the hell had happened at the bar, the fact he’d been forced to live as nothing more than a mundane human. Wash the dishes. Brush his hair. Empty the trash. No snap of his fingers and things took care of themselves. Worry had kept him up for several nights, waiting for any hint of it to come back. It had to come back didn’t it? Hells there was no way this could be his life. No way he could live without the essence of his very being. The toll was clear, even with the effort he’d taken to make himself look presentable.

Admittedly a loophole he’d found in that instruction was that he hadn’t been told not to tell anyone where he was going, explaining the google-maps pin he’d dropped Mercy, Jane and Cece for good measure. If someone did need to do corpse collection… Well, at least they had a start on where to find him he supposed. The phone had been tucked away and forgotten as the new ceremony began. Different this time and Otto truly wasn’t sure what to expect he couldn’t see any knives that Deirdre had claimed to be fond of in the past so maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. The myriad of thoughts running through his mind was distracting, and when he was finally invited to speak and say someone Otto was at a loss for words; a rare occurrence on any normal day. “I guess-- Actually yeah, are there drinks? I’m way too sober for this shit,” maybe he could stall for a bit, though a drink also didn’t sound like a bad idea either right now. “Honestly, I’d kill for a cocktail before I kick the bucket… It’s a personal nightmare to go out stone cold sober ‘cause that’s absolutely not what my life’s about.”

“Drinks?” Deirdre glanced around, regarding the fae in attendance. “Did we bring drinks?” The fae murmured to each other, pixies fluttered about until a leprechaun hobbled forward, offering solem clicks and whistles of disappointment. She turned to Otto. “No drinks.” Which was suddenly very unfortunate, because she was craving some too. “But I like your spirit, Otto! Is that all the last words you have to offer? Usually the humans start begging now. They tell me all about how much money they can offer, about any children or lovers. They get very desperate, I love to see it on their faces.” She turned to Otto, smiling. He seemed...okay, strangely enough. Not that Deirdre was any expert on reading human’s facial expressions, they all looked mostly the same, and were too ugly to pay attention to. But this man, fun and carefree, gave her no sobbing or begging. Suddenly, she boiled with anger. “BEG FOR YOUR LIFE!” She threw her toaster down at his feet, snarling. “GIVE US ENTERTAINMENT! You think this is a game, human? I gathered my friends here to watch something good, and your smart quips are getting us—“ a Leprechaun whistles at her. Deirdre snapped around. He swished a half-empty bottle of wine. “Never mind, I’m being informed we do have some drinks.” She took the bottle and offered it to Otto. “Here, now you can die slightly tipsy.”

“Oh come on,” he protested at the shakes of multiple little heads in every direction “I thought this was meant to be a celebration of your totalitarian toaster termination techniques on full unadulterated display… That you guys knew how to party.” The clarification that normally this was the point people started begging for their lives was met with a twist of his mouth and mildly distasteful look. “Well, I mean I can’t really do that because I don’t have any of those things. Kids suck they’re so whiny and really who has the commitment for a partner when people just end up letting you down in the end, you know?” he glanced at a wizened old leprechaun who seemed to mull on this statement and nod in agreement before taking a puff on his pipe “see? This dude, he gets it.” It’s so much effort for so little reward.” Perhaps now was not the time for philosophical questioning but it was what came to mind. - if it’s a time for confession guess there’s no better time to say thanks for the motorcycle I conned you into buying for me. Really was swell of you.” But any further smartass remarks were put on hold as he dodged the toaster lobbed in his general direction and found his knees giving out as he threw himself on the floor against his will. “No- NO PLEASE!” tears welled unbidden to his eyes as he clasped at Deirdre’s boots the sobs rising against his will “I’LL DO ANYTHING, I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT! PLEASE JUST-- DON’T KILL ME! IT’S NOT A GAME! I SWEAR. PLEASE I-” he hiccuped, swallowing air “ Pleasepleaseplease.” The sobbing at her feet continued despite the profference of booze for the command to stop had not yet been given.

Deirdre frowned as Otto spoke, she reached a hand out to lay gingerly on his shoulder. “Otto...are you sad and lonely?” The fae looked at her pointedly. She flushed and withdrew both her concern and her hand, but thought to elaborate. “Having a partner is great. I love my girlfriend. I don’t believe people let you down always, sometimes they surprise you.” The leprechaun clicked his disagreement, and Deirdre waved the conversation away. “You conned me into buying you a motorcycle?” She thought about it, and expected anger or pride to come to her. Anger for the audacity of a human to think to trick her, and pride that her subordinate had tried at all. Mostly she was just...disappointed. “Why didn’t you con me out of more than just a motorcycle?” She asked, “I mean, I have the money to give you more. What’s a motorcycle worth? Like a measly few thousand dollars?” It was good then, that he started to beg, and her mood lifted. “Yes, you pathetic urchin.” She hissed and snapped her feet away from him. “I think we’re good to begin now, don’t you?” She smiled and turned to her fellow fae, careful to keep herself out of the ring again. “Stop your begging and be quiet, Otto. Now it’s time--” The pixies struggled to play their flute, leaving the air with a discordant whittling that stung Deirdre’s ears. A leprechaun banged his toaster to create a drum beat, as horrible as it was earnest. Deirdre hissed again and picked Otto off the floor and shoved him into the circle. “Go impale yourself on the tree branch there.” She pointed at the one that had been sharpened for this purpose. “Take your time though, I do like a slow death. And you may do whatever you like before you’re impaled, so long as you stay in the circle, and it doesn’t take too long.” She waved her hand in the air. “Or if I find it boring.”

Otto’s eyes widened for a moment before he laughed, well and truly laughed deeply at the notion. “Oh hells, me? Lonely? No. Lonely’s pathetic, I’m definitely not pathetic.” But then again, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder. Would anyone ever notice? Would Mercy, Cece or anyone else in his rather truncated list of acquaintances even bother to come out and look for him? “Sure did, was fun watching you bend over backwards to save your friend’s face. Can’t say it worked but it was fun to watch either way.”

But then the wet mud was soaking into his knees, immaculate nails clawing for purchase on Deirdre’s shoe that soon retracted leaving him falling facefirst into a pile of moss. As the urge to beg rescinded, he lay there for a moment gathering what little remained of his dignity and pushed himself up to his feet. Spotting the leprechaun nearby about to drain the wine he snatched the bottle out of its tiny hands and gulped it down, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. Deirdre was speaking again though and the horrible irony of everything he’d been told dawned on him.

You’re not dead.

It was this thought that drifted through his mind as Otto walked with purposeful steps towards the sharpened bark. A haze of strange determination silencing all questions or thoughts that this was wrong. That he needed to run. No matter how much his mind screamed, rending itself apart.

The sharpened tip pierced the soft flesh of his abdomen, a slow progression as steps faltered and blood began to trickle in a cascade, staining the front of his shirt. A second and third followed, and as the crimson rivulets flowed their course twin tears glistened in hazel eyes. The dawning revelation of a truth Otto had always denied.

Perhaps he was lonely indeed.

Too late to do anything about it now though.

Delight spread across the fae like wildfire, infectious and brighter the longer it burned. Deirdre watched curiously. She waited for the same delight to reach her. And she waited. And she watched, and she waited. And yet, the only feeling that entered her as she watched Otto impale himself was something cold, and then sharp; something she wouldn’t dare put a name to. Emma’s eyes flashed in her mind, the look of desperation that gleamed there, and the hope that sat on her lips that Deirdre might free her. She couldn’t see Otto’s face now, and she felt all the better for it. “Stop,” she told him, “stop that. S-stop doing that.” Her command was barely a whisper above the din of celebration, fae poured into the circle, ready to party--dancing progressed around Otto’s limp body, and the music grew louder and further away from any pleasurable tune. The mushroom drums in her own head grew silent, and she left to watch the fae as an outsider to their delight. Once, she had been a child peeking from behind old trees, watching the fae with their wings and wondering when it would be her turn to be like them. The feeling she had chased for so long fluttered around her, it was cheered on by the congratulatory clicks and whistles of the leprechauns, but it could not find her heart. An organ she had long since suspected she’d lost sometime ago, some many deaths before.

She turned her back to Otto, to the mushrooms and fae surrounding him, and she walked. “I want to be good,” she told the trees as she stumbled around them. “I want to be good.” She willed the feeling to reach her. She willed herself to feel anything at all. But where she fell to the ground, staring at her unstained hands, she found nothing.

Nothing inside of her.

Eventually Otto reached a point that his feet could no longer find purchase enough to continue walking. Or perhaps it was simply the gradual weakening that came with the blood-loss. Blood-loss that left him feeling cold and tired. Tired in a way that was bone deep. There was no method to question on his lips to implore them to stop and let him go so that he might live his life. The feelings that swirled in his chest were those of anguish and an aching loneliness for which words were inadequate to describe. Loneliness he'd laughed so heartily at not five minutes prior. So maybe Deirdre was right. Perhaps he was… But too little too late.

I thought this was meant to hurt less. It always sounded like it would hurt less .

Where the voice in his mind came from he couldn’t rightly say. No warm embrace, no bright light or whatever the hell you were meant to get if this truly was the end. Just empty darkness. Even as he reached for his magic, gone since that night at the bar. Just an echo, but that’s all he was now wasn’t he? An echo of what he should’ve been. The breath rattled in his throat, life slipping away in the trickle of his lifesblood as the cold grasp of darkness coiled tighter around him; his life served forth by fate's own servant to the overture of cheerful clicks and whistles.

Work usually kept Cece late Otto knew this, especially in this town which gave him a decent opportunity to get to his target and get out without issue. And yet, he found himself hesitating outside the door. The spells had been a bugger to figure out and by the time he got to the lock he was wondering if this was even a good idea. Wasting time in a fashion that never happened on a job. Not normally. But lately things had hardly been what he’d call normal had they? His hands hovered but eventual compulsion of getting to his target got him moving once more, the locks were trickier, but he managed to get through them eventually. For once (and rather strangely for that fact) he was dressed rather normally, a typically stellar and tastefully coloured outfit tonight replaced with a trim leather jacket over a grey tee and black jeans with boots. Even his hair was flatter today. As though less attention had been paid to that than whatever was going on inside his head.

Otto had been to Cece’s cabin enough time over the years of living here that he knew his way around the space rather easily. The toaster was easy enough to pick up, and he should’ve left. Really should’ve just gone right there and then… Yet looking at the familiar space he was struck with a conflicting sense of purpose. Cece was his friend, one of the few he had left in this town it seemed. Did he really want to go through with this? No. But he had to. And yet he was hesitating, second guessing a typically sure fire and decisive way of life.

How he ended up sitting on the sofa, swigging from her personal store of booze cradling the toaster under his arm, crumbs on his leg staring into space he didn’t rightfully know. But what he did recognise was the sound of a lock clicking into place and a door swinging open.

Cece had worked late, and had gotten home to an empty house. Apparently, her roommates had plans that night, leaving the home empty. She had always forgotten what that felt like. She had lived alone in town for a while before Morgan first moved in and then again once Morgan moved in with Deirdre. But now she had two that kept her company in the house. Cece was a social person, despite running off alone to Maine. It was nice having people around to chat with on particularly boring nights. Plus, Cam and Jane made for good company.

Though Cece wasn’t alone when she walked in her door. Across the open space, Cece walked in on Otto sitting on the couch, staring down the dark screen of her tv. Something was off. And it wasn’t just because Otto was in her living room for some reason. Wait, was that her toaster in his arms? “What’s up. Love the serial killer vibes you’ve got going.” Cece closed and locked the door behind her. She had spells around the house to protect from this, so Otto must have been pretty impressive to get the door open in the first place. “What the hell are you wearing?” In the darkness, Cece could tell that his outfit didn’t seem to shine through the lack of light. It could only mean that he wasn’t wearing one of the colorful outfits that Cece was so fond of. “And why are you spooning my toaster?” So many questions tonight.

Otto took another long pull from the bottle, wiping the back of his mouth on his sleeve, his head lolling to one side as he looked away from the reflective abyss of the television screen he’d been staring at. “Thanks… Thought I’d channel my inner Paul John Knowles,” a tasteless joke perhaps but that was typical for Otto in any given situation. Raising a hand to rub his eyes he sighed.

“Well, they’re these things called clothes, you go to the shop and buy them and put them on to feel good about yourself,” perhaps being a smartass wasn’t the best solution but it felt somewhat normal in a time that everything really didn’t feel at all normal. He shifted the toaster, peering down at it. “I need it for my wife, oh wait-” he looked over at her again “did I tell you I got married? No? Well- I got married… Not like actually married but… you know. Marriage is a trap so I guess it’s pretty fitting that I’m enslaved to a fae who wants used toasters. Fun right?” Man what he’d do for a cig right now.

Something was off, didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out. Cece just hadn’t quite figured out if she should be more concerned for her own safety considering a man had broken into her home and was drinking her alcohol or if she should be more concerned for Otto. He clearly didn’t seem like himself at the moment. Neither Cece nor Otto had given much information about their lives before White Crest to each other, but she still considered him a friend. The two knew about the magic and Cece even had a look at that new gravity magic of his. “You know what? I’m just going to take it as a win that you didn’t name a serial who had a thing for pretty blondes.” Cece eventually decided against Otto being a threat and tossed her bag on the ground by the couch, taking the empty seat and holding out her and gesturing for the bottle of alcohol that Otto was nursing. Once she got ahold of it she took a long drink from the bottle and passed it back off to him.

Otto was being a sarcastic asshole, so at least she knew he was still somewhat acting like himself. “Hilarious. Does that outfit make you feel good about yourself then? As opposed to your other outfits? Just curious.” Then he was talking about the institution of marriage, something Cece couldn’t agree more on besides the point that he kept mentioning a wife. Had he completely gone off the deep end? Maybe been love potioned or something? “That’s a lot of information to take in at once, dude. So you’re married. To a woman who wants my toasters? Am I being punked? If Ashton Kutcher’s in here you better tell me because I had a very serious crush on him back in middle school.”

“Now, that would be tasteless, plus I’d never hurt you Ce. You’re my friend, right?” The question hung in the air, a degree of uncertainty around it but he hoped it wasn’t an overstep. The sofa dipped and settled as Cece came to join him on the sofa. What was he doing with his life? He’d run to this dumb little town because of an accident. An accident that had had very real and very serious consequences, thought that maybe he could start again an anonymous face in the crowd. But he was learning the hard way this was definitely not a place you could be anonymous. In fact, Otto felt more exposed in White Crest than he had anywhere else in his entire life. The bottle was easily pried from his hands and Otto opted to sink further into the couch taking it back when it was offered.

“Every outfit makes me feel good, and I make every outfit feel good too,” but the airness remained though it was forgotten in the face of this Ashton Kutcher reference, and Otto’s brows pinched not understanding who or what she was on about. “Who’s? I don’t know who that is or what you’re on about.” The look remained, until he realised “oh no I’m serious… Do you know Deirdre? Deirdre Dolan? Weird woman obsessed with bones.” Maybe she did, “anyway she’s fae - convinced me it’d be a fun idea to go jump in a fairy ring with her and I thought why the hell not? It’s better than… everything else that’s all fucked up in this dumb town.”

“And now I’m now bound to follow her every command… Which includes stealing toasters and turning the swimming pool to mushroom soup…” his expression grew thoughtful as his thoughts sidetracked to mushrooms and mushroom soup “I haven’t figured out how to do that yet but I’m almost there I think.”

“As long as you don’t serial murder me, we’re best friends.” Cece found a way to joke around and wiggle her eyebrows in humor despite the situation. Sure, most friends didn’t consider an especially effective way to prove that friendship was by breaking into their home but hey, White Crest didn’t have much in the way of normal friendships. That being said, Cece would definitely be looking into some stronger protection spells on her door after this. “I dig the confidence, dude. You look cute as hell in that outfit too.”

“Deirdre?” Cece questioned and rolled her eyes. “I’m familiar with her.” As far as people in town went, Cece wasn’t going to pretend that she was her favorite. But considering Morgan seemed so smitten with the woman, Cece had mostly decided to let bygones be bygones. Mostly. Admittedly, the knowledge that the woman was fae wasn’t surprising in the least bit. But what was surprising was hearing about the fairy ring. Cece knew about them, though she had never actually seen one in practice. The coven wasn’t actually entirely convinced that they were real at all, but they never dealt with fae much. “Hold on. I know the general gist of a fairy ring but help me sort between fact and fiction. Does this mean you're sired to her or some shit?” If so, Cece had even more reason to loathe the woman. Either Deirdre made horrible first impressions or Cece had to seriously reconsider Morgan’s taste in suitors. “How naked do you get?”

“What the hell does she have you stealing toasters for?” Cece questioned. If this was some sort of prank, Cece was dying to hear the punchline. If this was some diabolical plan, Cece had trouble seeing the big picture. “Who’s pool?” Cece was actually pretty intrigued by the whole mushroom soup idea, “That’s easy. You just need an alchemist.” Cece pointed at herself, unironically volunteering herself for this stupid fairy ring prank.

“Cool, and at the rate I’m going I think I might be the murderee before you anyway so… Just pick out a nice headstone right? Black and silver. Maybe some purple in there yeah?” perhaps it was morbid to joke about it, but it made Otto feel a little bit better about everything that was going on right now. “Aawh, see, this is why we’re friends. You look cute too, even if you’re still in your work gear. But it’s cute and super professional. Very boss bitch vibe.”

He sighed, long and mournful turning sideways and tucking his feet up on the sofa before taking another healthy swig from the bottle and offering it out for her to take. “Oh well, great. Don’t go to a fairy ring with her if she asks, yeah?” Man this was all so backwards. Otto had never experienced much fae culture, and his lack of exposure to it was showing right now with recent decisions. The migraine was starting to return and Otto closed his eyes tiredly. “Yeah, she called it… a marriage? It’s like a next level fae bind I think. Maybe… I don’t know. I don’t have to make a promise, it’s literally like if she says it I have to do it otherwise I feel like I’m going to hurl.” Tilting the bottle against his knee he stretched out a bit. “Super naked. But that’s not that bad honestly.”

“The mushrooms.” That was the only answer he had. “Any pool, I think the local pool.” He’d been pondering the process himself. “Well I dabble in alchemy but I wouldn’t say no to a hand with it. I’ve got my hands on a transmutation stone, I just need to figure out how to channel it so that it will turn the water to soup.”

“Only the best headstone for you.” Cece nodded in agreement, pretending to take notes on the headstone color, “Here lies Otto, famed toaster thief, breaker of hearts.” Cece put on her best impression of a grieving widow, even using her sleeves to feign dotting at her eyes as if they were drowning in tears. “Damn straight Otto,” Cece gestured at her outfit and modeled from her seat, shooting a grin in Otto’s direction, “I’m taking that compliment, even if this outfit is definitely not by choice and because I have to follow my boss’ dress code. But I even make khaki’s look good.”

“No worries there, I had no interest in doing that before learning about this,” Cece and Deirdre did not communicate much and that was how Cece preferred it. She intended to remain civil for Morgan’s sake, nothing more. Accepting the bottle, Cece took a long drink from it. Regardless of how Cece felt, she couldn’t deny that the situation seemed fucked up. Cece certainly held no high ground when it came to moral compasses, but damn. “That’s intense, dude. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that she hasn’t taken any pity and released you from it either?” Another drink before passing it back over. She couldn’t help her mind from wandering towards the idea of a fairy ring. If a witch could collect the foliage that made up a fairy ring, what sort of magical properties would she have gotten power have? Cece could only imagine the spells that could be put together using those. “Naked huh?” Of course, because Cece had no control over herself her first instinct was to stare at Otto and imagine what that must have looked like. She eventually nodded in approval, “Nice.”

“Vague, but whatever.” What the hell did the mushrooms want with toasters? Cece cursed her lack of fae knowledge. “Shouldn’t be too hard. We literally just need a can of soup.” Cece shrugged, already picturing the process in her head. “Once I know all the ingredients, alchemy is simple. It’s just breaking things down and transmutating it into the new properties. I can help. Seems like a bad senior prank, but at least we’d mark one thing off your list.”

“Sheesh is that what my life amounts to?” it was only in hearing it repeated back to him that Otto had to think how sad his life had become. “Hells, I need to do something about that.” He flopped back, draping one arm lazily over his head as Cece modelled and he had to laugh, bright and genuine. “I mean, what would you wear if you actually had a choice and not a dress code?” It was interesting what a person’s choice of style and clothes could say about their personality. Just another form of expression like anything else.

“Good to know.” His arm sagged a little over his eyes, internally bemoaning the whole debacle. It had been fun, actually he wouldn’t have minded it except for all the hostilities that apparently came along with Deirdre’s blasted girlfriend that he’d barely known a thing about. “Not yet. Like- honestly it’d be fine except everyone is sticking their noses in business, judging me as if this is all somehow entirely my fault. Add on top of that I have this blasted twelve year old child driving me insane about being a fucking exorcist.” He huffed, dropping his hands back into his lap and noting Cece’s stare which only made him roll his eyes and give her a light and playful shove. “Shut up. I don’t need you getting imaginative on me just ‘cause you haven’t gotten any lately.”

“Fae bullshit,” at least that was as much as Otto understood of the matter. “Yeah? Well… I can get the soup and ingredients but don’t we need like for like? I dunno about you but I’m not buying 2.5 mega litres or however much we’d need of soup.. We could probably just use a smaller batch… amplify the transmutation with the stone?”

“Hey, I’m not the one that broke into his friend’s house and is cradling a toaster right now, buddy.” Cece shrugged, the truth was right here smackdab in their faces. But Cece didn’t disagree about doing something about it. Though without knowledge of fae, she wasn’t entirely sure that it was possible to break from it unless Deirdre let him go herself. Fat chance of that happening. It made Cece wonder if she had managed to talk Morgan into going into the fairy ring with her? Would Deirdre do something like that to Morgan? “If it was my choice? A full length ball gown.” Cece modeled, striking various poses before laughing and taking a swig from the bottle, “Nah I’m just fucking with you. I’m basic. I want tshirt and jeans.”

“Yeah well, most people in town aren’t going to believe that if you go into a circle of mushrooms in the woods that you’re bound to do whatever someone says.” Cece had no doubt that Otto had plenty of friends in the supernatural know. Perks of working at a magical bar. But even for people with supernatural knowledge, fae were sort of a wonder. They held their secrets tightly and knowledge about them tended to be more myth and legend than anything proven. “Exorcist? Honestly, it’s a bit impressive. At twelve, I wanted to be a popstar. It’s good to have goals, kid. Keep working at it.” Otto shoved Cece and she was cracking up, flashing her middle finger at him, “I can’t help where my mind wanders. I’m a very imaginative person Otto.” He was right though, she hadn’t gotten any lately.

“Nah. One will do.” Cece waved off the thought. Alchemy was all about the ingredients. Break things with a similar enough composition and you could turn it into anything. “It’s gonna suck for those kids though. Summer’s almost over anyways, go crack a book or something.”

“I don’t need reminding!” he whined, thumping her on the arm again for good measure even if he knew she was absolutely right on that account. But here they were and Otto wasn’t sure he was going to get out of this one any time soon. The talk of clothes was a nice distraction, and he cocked his head, trying to envisage Cece in the tox-room in a full length ball gown featuring rubber gloves and goggles while running a tox-panel. The mental image was enough to make him snort a laugh and it was at that moment he realised why he appreciated Cece so darn much. “Nothing wrong with that, select individuals can pull that off and make it look trendy - you’re one of those people. Granted… this town is full of pretty attractive people I won’t lie.”

“I’ve given up trying to convince the disbelievers, honestly as funny as it is watching them bend over backwards to deny something it gets a bit old in the end.” He pulled a face and shook his head, “not really, I know jack all about ghosts and I’m not interested in them that’s the issue… Turns out an old friend I used to run with lives here in town, they wanted me to cover for them little did I realise they were yanking my chain all along. Now I’m the villain because I helped covered for them. Shows how much loyalty’s worth these days huh?”

The flash of Cece’s middle finger, made Otto roll his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m sure you can’t.”

“I don’t really care about the kids, I kind of just want to do it because I can, you know? Sometimes it’s fun just to flex if there’s no real harm coming from it.”

Cece gave a shocked look at Otto as if she was offended by the arm punch. “Geez, okay Oscar the Grouch. Hitting a lady? The audacity.” Cece’s life had been so consumed with a fake sense of ease and stability with the coven that she had few people she felt completely relaxed around. The two genuine friends she did have within the coven even came with a hint of danger, with their plotting always threatening the safety and trust of the three. Cece enjoyed being able to stay lighthearted even in the sense of immediate danger. Otto’s situation didn’t seem good, but both of them knew that there was no immediate way to fix it. What was the point of being down in the dumps? Cece enjoyed the simplicity of being friends with Otto. Things came easily. “They’re all hot right? I’ve never understood it. It must have some magic magnet that pulls in all the hot people. I mean, it worked on us.” Cece shrugged like this was all the proof that she needed.

Cece pictured Regan at that. Cece had never met somebody so intertwined with the supernatural that still refused to believe in it’s existence, though she respected her boss’ tenacity. That stubbornness was supernatural in its own right. It made some of the more unexplainable jobs at work humorous if nothing else. It really was too bad that Cece had ended up liking Regan so much. “Shit. It sucks, but I’d totally watch that soap opera.” When in doubt, lighten the mood with a little humor, right? That’s what Cece was so convinced fixed any issue? “They’re still running around pulling their scams then, too? Ain’t that some bullshit?”

“Flexing is what I do best, as a matter of fact” Cece held her arm out and curled her fist, flexing the tiny amount of arm muscle that she had and pointing at it in true bodybuilding fashion. “Fair. It’s high time those kids learned how the real world works anyways. Get disappointed.” Cece realized that Otto was still holding onto the toaster and sighed. She didn’t know exactly how this fairy ring shit worked. “I’m not getting my toaster back, am I?”

“We both know you’ll give as good as you get,” Otto quipped, reclining back once more and closing his eyes in mental contemplation of his situation. And the inevitability of it all. “Absolutely, that has to be it… There is no other explanation for why people in this town are all so aesthetically pleasing.”

Nadia was a whole other conundrum. What did he have to do to fix this? And did he really want to do it considering the people invested in getting rid of her were all grade A assholes from the limited encounters online that Otto had with them? They didn’t give him much reason to want to help them and yet a part of him questioned whether he had a duty to do that. But when had he ever truly put the needs of other people above that which suited him? And therein lay the crux of his issue. “I know right? At this point I’m just going to let them play their games and see where they end up… If they win, great, if not I guess they only have themselves to blame.”

“Well then, I guess we need some soup.” With that he rolled back and then forwards propelling himself off the sofa. “Nope,” came the answer with a pop of the ‘p’ for emphasis “it’s gotta be sacrificed. But I’ll repay you for the donation once this is over… Probably.” With a small roll up onto his toes he tilted his head, “come on then!”

The night certainly hadn’t gone how Cece had expected. Otto brought a lot of information to light that Cece wasn’t entirely sure what she should be doing with. In almost all cases, none of this was her problem. Getting involved in more supernatural bullshit was the exact opposite of what she needed. It had been the entire point of escaping to a small town in the farthest possible state from anywhere someone thought Cece would go. This had been a chance to stay low. Clearly, Cece fucking sucked at that. Instead she ended up finding herself right in the middle of some supernatural epicenter, befriending people that couldn’t seem to go a week without attracting some magical clusterfuck of drama.

It was even more unfortunate than that Cece actually enjoyed her time here. The people, the excitement, the drama. Cece had never been much for staying lowkey. She hadn’t been in California and she hadn’t been within the coven either. She wasn’t sure why she thought she had any chance of doing it in Maine either. “You have a real knack for dragging me into your shitstorm, don’t you? You’re lucky I love you.”