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Tigg had already started mopping. See, she may not mind being spoken to sharply, but that didn’t mean she wanted to disappoint him and make him angry on top of that. She paused a second and acknowledge him, and continued mopping in his preferred pattern. “What do I mean? Oh, right,” Tigg chuckled to herself, tucking a strand of hair that fell out of her ponytail behind her ear. “I mean I’m not goin’ ‘round gettin’ up in arms over someone’s tone.”

Especially not Mr. O’Hare, who gave her invaluable advice on her job applications when she first came to town. Junis, Shere, and Jiminy were the Holy Trinity of people she wasn’t sure she could ever be mad at.

“If you don’t mind me sayin’,” she continued, stopping to lean on the mop, the top of the handle making an indent against her cheek. “You ‘ave this natural tone that can come off as…cross.”

Tigg started mopping again, since that’s what she was here for. “Like I said. I don’t care. S’just ‘ow you talk. But not everyone appreciates ‘ow much stress you probably constantly ‘ave on your mind, runnin’ a farm and business. Or that you’re the literal boss of this place. Lot of people think everyone’s gonna and gotta talk to ‘em like they’re best friends. Idiots.”

It was interesting to hear what he already knew. That people disliked him for the way he ran things. For having his hand in every jar, for being too picky, too on the nose, for getting to bent out of shape when something was wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong. People would always get annoyed when he had to check their work, or when he had to ask them to clean something again even though they had just done it. He knew, he did, he’d just never gotten outside confirmation because what employee was going to tell their boss what they really thought? He nodded to her, eyebrows raising up in an invitation to ‘please, go ahead,’ as she leaned against the mop. 

He felt as thought she had just wacked him over the head rather than told him all of that. With his siblings gone it wasn’t often that someone told him something with that much insight into the behind the scenes of his life. It made his expression soften, a small smile form from the remains of the frown he’d been wearing for so long now it had began to feel permanent. 

Seamus’s head turned to the side, just enough that he could hear if Junis started following him. Otherwise, he held himself carefully. His throbbing shoulder he moved very little and the other he hunched a bit like he was trying to protect himself from something. What it was, you wouldn’t be able to tell. His face gave nothing away. 

The shorter man smiled a bit to himself, shook his head ever so slightly. Junis had decided to follow him after all, protesting, of course. 

They’d weaved their way back through the house and Seamus leaned his better shoulder on the wall, still holding his other one relatively immobile. The Scotsman raised a brow. “Never said I wasna ridiculous, jus’ that I know I want this house. If it’ll make ye feel better I can wait tae call the realtor ‘til tonight. Give meself more ‘en, what was it, twenty minutes? A day?” He couldn’t help it, really, the teasing. It distracted from the pain in his arm and was entirely too easy.

He motioned with the free arm, a twinge of discomfort flashing over his face before fading just as quickly. “What, ye think that wasna what I was doin’? Ain’t me first rodeo, love. ‘s th’ only one. Th’ others are jus’ worn an’ outdated. An’ I checked with the realtor about an inspection. It was already taken care of, but she was kind enough tae tell me I could get a second opinion, which ‘m plannin’ on.” Seamus didn’t quite know why Junis was arguing against this house so much, but he could take a few guesses. 

So, he did. 

Quieter, he tilted his head up to give Junis a shrewd look as he spoke. “’m nae here tae fight about th’ ruddy house, yae ken? ‘m jus’ wonderin’ why yer s against my movin’ here. An’ ‘m startin’ tae think it’s not jus’ cuz ye don’ think ye could help yerself if I was always around.” The last was said with a smirk and a quiet laugh, before his features abruptly shifted. “Jus’ want somewhere quiet. Mostly quiet, anyway. An’ this place is nice. Comfortable.”

Junis kept his distance, eyeing the walls and ceiling in favor of glaring at the back of Seamus’s head as they walked towards the front of the house once more.

It was infuriating to speak with this man. He didn’t see to reason. He didn’t think logically, or do anything that made any sense whatsoever. He just walked up to a house, without having seen the inside, and thought! Well hey now! Why don’t I buy that one instead all of the other perfectly fine houses that the man who spent hours putting together, driving him to look at, found! He shuddered to think about making such a large life decision so hastily. 

Then again Seamus was older and could probably afford to be making such rash decisions with all the time he had. 

Still. It didn’t make up for the fact that he was going to be living here. It seemed like he was doing it to spite Junis, even after all he had done for the other. He was going to move in just so he could spend every single day tormenting Junis from across the street because why not! Seemed like a fun way to spend his time.

Junis sighed tightly, refusing to look at Seamus as he went on about the realtor, the traitor, and the house and all Junis could think about was how he could convince him to not move here. To find somewhere else. He looked up at the change in tone though by mistake, caught off guard from his noisy thoughts by the soft tone. Junis glared at Seamus, though, trying to look annoyed instead of like he had been caught under a spot light.

“A french, of course,” Lou said at once. Pleased as punch that there were actually options instead of some…rudimentary quick coffee from some instant machine–disgusting. He didn’t know if he’d be able to stomach that. Lou wasn’t a big coffee drinker anyway. Caffeine made him feel a bit sick sometimes. But, he enjoyed a good cup in the mornings. 

And he was sure it was early enough that it should be fine today.

He watched as the man–Junis O’Hare–got his coffee ready. This did not make him uncomfortable. In fact, he barely thought about it. People made him food all the time. He was used to it.

“Merci,” he said as he took the offered cup and took a sip. “Mm, good,” he said–and he let the surprise color his voice. He supposed he could throw the poor man a bone. He had been taking him through his paces.

Junis hopped to getting the coffee started, the kettle already boiling off on the side. The cabinets were already filled with mugs, some that he had provided due to the majority of the staff’s having been broken to useless shards from the forest, but mostly everyone had their own mugs back in their spots. Including the ones the employees had taken with them in hand when they had ran out.

He grabbed his own, knowing it would be the cleanest, down. then put it back in the cabinet, and got it back down again, until he got it sitting on the counter correctly which was a total of five times. 

It was routine to make a cup of coffee, but he took care to pay attention to what he was doing today. The last thing he wanted was to make a bad cup of coffee and ruin everything he had done so far. 

Carefully he placed the mug in front of Toulouse and took a step back, half ready to make another, half ready to go to the fridge to get some milk or grab some sugar. But he took a sip! And it was good! 

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, still standing, “Biscuits?”

His shoulder had taken the time Seamus had finished talking and Junis had started to go from a dull pain to a sharp throb at the top of it. That throb extended down all the way to his bicep, a sort of familiar tingling just inside where the labrum connected muscle and tissue. He’d torn both multiple times, though this arm was better off. The pressure he’d put on the door hadn’t done him any favors, it seemed.

And neither, apparently, was Junis. 

The shorter man cocked his hip out as he squirmed a bit against the door, leaning the one part of his shoulder that didn’t constantly bother him on the door frame after a second of adjustment, and he chuckled. Of course he didn’t want to know what Seamus would do with the property. Because he didn’t want him here. The look on Junis’s face said he expected a silver-tongued spar. Another day, perhaps, but not right now. He leaned his head back instead, eyes flitting across the younger man’s face.

Simply, he said, almost matter of fact: “Yer right. I dunno have tae explain anythin’ that ‘m gonna do here. Figured it would make things easier, ‘s all. I like th’ house. I’ll put in a cash offer. Ye can even keep th’ spare.” 

The Scotsman’s brow furrowed when Junis took a step towards him, not understanding. Was he…mimicking him? Unfolding his arms, Seamus reached around to massage the damaged area. He couldn’t quite tell what was in the other man’s voice but he gave a little shrug anyway.

“Front door sticks. ‘s so old th’ wood swelled up ‘round th’ base. Needed a bit of a shove is all. Jus’ torn meself up over th’ years, I s’pose. ‘s nothin’.” The one he rubbed at sported an old bullet wound, too, the byproduct of his soldiering days. Though the scar was old, his thumb rubbed out the knot it created out of habit. Kicking off the wall carefully, Seamus slid past the other man, suddenly feeling closed in. His voice had dropped as he’d talked until it was a low rumble, only audible because they were standing so close. He didn’t register how little space there had been in the hall until his entire right side brushed along Junis’s. 

He cleared his throat when there were a few inches between them again, nodding with his head to indicate that he wanted to show Junis what he’d been talking about. It gave him a few seconds to breathe, at least. 

Junis was not buying what Seamus was trying to sell him. As the owner of a market, who had to buy shipments of supplies that he could not provide his own means of producing and who sold things almost everyday, he knew someone was trying to distract him. As if something like putting a shoulder into a door could make someone look that uncomfortable. And just because he irked Junis with being informed that Seamus was just going to up and buy this house without giving it more than twenty minutes of thought didn’t mean he was going to be distracted.

Or, well, completely distracted. It would be left as an after thought for now because Seamus buying this house was not going to happen. He refused to believe that he was going to be living across the street from what would soon become a junk yard, no doubt.

He didn’t think too hard on the proximity, just on images of rusted metals and rough tires. The contact, though, made him about jump backwards to get out of the way. His hand came up to smooth out the shoulder of his shirt several, five, times with the palm of his hand.

This was ridiculous, Junis thought, watching as Seamus walked away. 

He had her attention. He always did, even if he wanted to think she was too stupid, or too distracted, or too whatever to pay attention to him without prompting. Even as he scolded her and talked down to her, Tigg adored him.

He’d been one of the first people to offer her any ounce of kindness. Ever. For that, she was incredibly grateful, and all of his weird demands would be met on her end.

“Soapy, not too soapy, right, left, right, left. Got it.” She held out her hand for the mop and chewed on her lower lip, hesitant about saying this next bit, but. It needed to be said. “I don’t mind if you yell at me, I know you like things done a certain way and all that. But…other volunteers might not admire you as much as I do and be so chill with it. If you ‘ave anybody else you want corrected…you can tell me? And I’ll tell them. Just, a, just an idea. Anyway. Soapy, not too soapy. Right left.”

Junis nodded at her. Good! She understood him on the first try. He had been expecting a blank stare and having to reexplain everything he had just did at an even slower pace. It wouldn’t have been the first time, sometimes he thought he was speaking in another language with how long it took for his instructions to mean something to a few of his employees.

When she reached out he lowered his hand’s position on the mop’s handle so they would not make contact and leaned it towards her. He had a slight wedge of confidence that she would do a decent job.

Just as he was about to wish her good luck she spoke again and this time it took him aback. Had he been yelling? Admired him?  What in God’s name was she talking about? 

“Yes...,” he said slowly, his eyebrows furrowing at her. Junis went to walk away then stopped, turning back with a finger up to redraw her attention. “I’m sorry, but what do you mean ‘be chill with it?’” 

Toulouse was looking forwards to criticizing the break room. It was a break room, after all. Lou had never worked a day in his life, outside of school, or his volunteer work with the children. Which meant that he had never been in a break room before and could only imagine them as windowless, dull, depressing places where the working class came to die.

That was not the case in this room. The walls were painted bright white, so even though there was no natural light, it was still pleasantly bright. There was fresh flowers on the table. Everything neat and orderly, minus the chairs pushed out by the people hurrying out of the room when Lou entered, like mice fleeing from a tom cat.

He couldn’t tell if he was–disappointed or impressed.

“Where is this coffee, then?” he said, instead of leaning into either of these impulses. He crossed to one of the chairs and sat himself down, properly–back straight, hands folded politely in his lap.

Junis waited by the door while Toulouse walked in, turning quickly back to watch as his employees looked to him for some sort of direction. He motioned and mouthed at them to look busy, and they all went in different directions. Except for two who pumped right into one another, did the dance of trying to step around one another, and then were on their way. He rolled his eyes at them, took a breath, and smiled as he walked over to the counter.

“Here,” he said, and motioned to the display sitting against the counter. There were five types because there was always going to have to be a regular black and then decaf and having only two just didn’t feel right. So five it was. The same went for the array of tea he kept in there, too.

“We have decaf, then a medium, a blonde, a french, and an italian roast,” Junis said, touching each bag with his index finger as he went. “What can I get you?” 

Seamus had ignored the scoff, the seemingly confused look the other man had shot him in the living room. But he couldn’t ignore the feeling of his eyes as he, no doubt, watched him walk through the farmhouse. The sound of footsteps starting and then stopping behind him at small increments made him cock his head to the side. The shorter man listened without turning around, accustomed to making people seem like he wasn’t paying attention. When he felt Junis come up behind him, Seamus straightened. Only then did he look at him. 

He should have expected a snide remark. He really should have. 

The brunette raised a brow at the frown, motioned to it with a hand, arms folded tight across his chest. “Yer gonna get it stuck like that, ye know, one o’ these days.” There was no malice in the words, he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, there was just a tiredness that sunk down around him, heavy like a shroud around his shoulders. 

“Tha’s not it though, is it? What, do ye think I’m gonna host fuckin’ parties at all hours o’ th’ evenin’? Make th’ neighborhood look bad? If ye forgot it’s just th’ two houses. An’ I ain’t jus’ gonna leave tools an’ car parts lyin’ around. ‘m a big boy. Know how tae pick up after meself, Junis.” He gave a huff, shifting a bit so he could lean back against the doorway again. His fingers flexed on his arm. The hit he’d given to the door was starting to make his shoulder ache. However, unlike earlier, Seamus didn’t break eye contact.

Waiting expectantly, but not irate or angry, Seamus winced a bit as he shifted, trying to find a better spot to lean.

Junis straightened as Seamus turned to face him, setting his shoulders in a line and lifting his chin just a smidge since he knew what was coming. Some sort of sparing match between them since it was clear that Seamus seemed to think he was going to be settling into this house and Junis was not going to let that happen. 

His eyes darted down, glancing at his arms as his fingers dug into the neatly rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, only to return to the other man with a sort of confused glare. It hadn’t been said to nit pick, like what his siblings would do in order to raise his blood pressure for no reason other than that they liked to see the steam come out of his ears. 

Seamus should be angry, or at the very least annoyed. That was the goal here. Show him that he did not want to live next to Junis O’Hare, the stuck up market owner who threw a fit every time someone spilled their stain leaving coffee on his floor. Save him the hassle of being around him, and save Junis the sleep by not having to think about disorganized tools out on the drive way. 

“I don’t know, maybe,” Junis said pointedly. “I don’t know your life habits, nor do I want to, so you don’t have to bother explaining, thank you. But I’ve-.”

Toulouse made a little face of disappointment at the shoppekeep’s words. A shame, he would’ve enjoyed some champagne to go with this little show. What comedy was complete without a flute of champagne?

However, Lou wasn’t really expecting the champagne, but he knew a face of disappointment would kick this man’s need-to-please into high gear, and Lou did so like to see people hop to it.

He considered his choices carefully, so as to make Junis sweat, for just a moment. His hands clasped behind his back and he let out a sigh, like this whole thing was just–really putting him out.

“Very well, the break room, if you will.” He gestured a hand out, indicating for Junis to lead the way.

And sweat Junis did. Having to stand there without flinching underneath the look of disappointment that had crossed over Toulouse’s face was very difficult when his brain was willing at him to touch the corner of the shelf on his left. Even his cheeks were beginning to ache from the tight smile he had been holding in place. 

“Right this way,” he said, sounding delighted. 

Junis turned and started off towards the break room. It was at the back of the building so they had to cross a ways, and Junis had glanced over to the produce section on their way to see Robert with five other employees all in a huddle, looking at something in the middle of them. 

His hands went into his pockets so he didn’t clench them into fists. Instead, Seamus allowed himself to walk forward, shoulders hunching a bit. He allowed himself to breathe as he looked around the room, something shuddering and settling in his chest that had been loose a moment before. It was easier, then, to turn a bit to the side, to give Junis room to come into the space. 

Seamus watched the other man for a moment, assessing as he saw the wrinkle of disgust roll over his face, that bounce to his shoulders as he looked down and only now realized that there was no welcome mat. It was obviously bothering him, but Junis wouldn’t say anything. That didn’t mean Seamus couldn’t though. And, when he did, his voice was soft around the edges, quieter than it had been before. Maybe even a little bit tired, drained from the war drawing himself back to reality had been. 

“If there’s no matt ye can always kick the dirt off on th’ doorjamb. Does th’ same job an’ keeps it outside. ‘Til I can get a mat, that is.” The corner of his lip curled, flashed a few teeth, and then settled back into its place, there and then gone the next, a smile in the absence of one. Turning his head to look first at the room at large and then the man beside him, the Scotsman shrugged his shoulders. “Jus’ needs a bit o’ dustin’. S’not like it’ll take long. As fer th’ plumbin’ an’ electric, well, I can take a look at it. Used tae work in it, back in th’ day. If it’s too much of a job I can jus’ call someone from th’ next town.” 

He walked as he spoke, slipping his hands from his pockets and trailing a hand over the kitchen counter as he rounded his way into the breakfast nook. The window over the sink overlooked the drive and a bit of the property. It was quaint, reminded him of his old place in Colorado and wasn’t that just a little too close for comfort? Grimacing a bit as he edged away, Seamus trailed off towards the back rooms - two of them, so he’d been told -a guest room and a master bedroom. A back porch to take off work clothing, guest bath and a small en-suite. Plenty of space. Leaning against the doorway, arms folding over his chest, the thought crossed his mind that he really didn’t need all that much room anyway. It was just him, the dog. Sometimes Jim, when they had a late night. 

“Junis,” he called over his shoulder, “what d’ye think o’ th’ place, really. An’ I don’ wanna hear ye say it’s shite. Please.”  

Junis blinked at the suggestion. Then again at the smile. Then three more times to even himself out. 

He made a face of mock amusement, before turning to get away from the smile he had determined was annoying. A scoff escaped him at how light this man seemed to be taking cleaning. This was a home, or what was supposed to be a home, and it yet it felt like the farthest thing from it. Even if his was across the street he felt as though he was standing in the complete opposite of a warm comforting place to go back to every day. But that was mostly because of how dirty it was, not because of the house itself. 

Seamus, sadly, was right. All it needed was a bit of a touch up and it would be wonderful. The potential was there. The only thing was that Junis O’Hare did not want this man living here. His vision of potential was, ugh, grease stains and dirty boots all over the place. And Junis, living right across the street, would not be able to sleep at night knowing that might be taking place so close to him. It’s why it had been so peaceful out here without anyone else. Yes, lonely...but that was beside the point. 

His arms were kept tightly over his chest as he followed behind Seamus at a comfortable distance, watching where he walked and making faces at the air as dust flew by. Junis gasped when he saw the other man put his finger willingly against the dirty surface of the kitchen counter, clapping a hand over his mouth soon after. 

He tracked Seamus as he walk off towards to back with his eyes until he disappeared through a doorway before walking over to the counter and...that one line in the dust made his shoulders bounce again. The urge to wipe it all away to get to the clean surface edging him on, but knowing that once he started he wouldn’t be able to stop and-. Junis looked up as he heard Seamus’s voice. He gave the spot one last look, then started to walk away but then went back to look to see if maybe he could-. Nope no. 

Junis walked quickly to wherever Seamus had run off to, looking around with distaste written on his face. 

Seamus couldn’t help the laughter that escaped him as the other man huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring the shorter man’s previous actions. He could tell he’d been right but he wasn’t going to rub it in. That’s not what he was here for. Instead, he rocked back and forth on his heels, never stepping out of Junis’s space. Despite his dislike of being around large crowds, Seamus had found that if he’d initiated the closeness it didn’t quite bother him. Alasdair had been the large exception to that rule, his friend before, well, everything. And that thought made a sharp sting of sadness wash over him, dropping his playful teasing facade in the dirt and crushing it beneath a heel. 

He averted his eyes for a moment and breathed through his nose, head tilted to catch any change in the other man. But he…couldn’t look at him. As though sensing his unease Maeve sidled up to his side and pushed her head underneath his hand. He stroked at her ears for a moment, the motion enough to bring him out of his own head. Seamus turned back and raised a brow of his own but the smirk that accompanied it didn’t quite match. The dramatic sigh and eye roll made him smile, but he didn’t say anything. 

His fingers wrapped around the keys and he thumbed over the one he figured he needed. He hummed an acknowledgment and then abruptly broke away from Junis, walking over to the porch and up to the front door. Though the key stuck, a bit of wiggling and some force with his good shoulder had the house open in a matter of minutes. “Good thing I left me lock pickin’ set at home,” he murmured, shoulders easing out of their tense hold as he looked around the room. On autopilot, he reached back and grabbed a hold of Junis so he could put the keys into the man’s hand before stepping over the threshold. 

His boots echoed on the hardwood floor.

Seamus’s turn of mood went unnoticed by Junis as he was sulking and brooding over this. So much so that he hadn’t even caught on that Seamus was already making his way into the house until he looked up at the sound of the door opening. 

Quickly, he followed after, his knees picking up as he made his way up the walk on his toes, careful to not touch the grass and weeds coming up through the cracks. Junis was careful to not get too close to the other but close enough to where his presence could still be felt. His expression morphed into disgust as he looked in through the doorway. It was dusty, which was expected since no one had been staying in the house for a while, but it still made his nose wrinkle. Junis went to wipe his feet off on the welcome mat only to find that there wasn’t one. His shoulders bounced at this, feeling a pit form in his stomach at the thought of tracking in the outside into the inside. 

But Seamus was already inside and Junis couldn’t just let him gallivant around the house on his own. He might actually end up thinking he could move into this house and what a nightmare that would be. 

He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, placing his right foot inside the door. And then the left. When nothing happened he opened his eyes. There. Okay, he was inside. With...all this dust. And dirt. And this annoying man. 

Right. Seamus.

Toulouse was standing just far enough away that he could not make out what Junis and this…Robert were saying, but he could still see the expression on Junis’ face and hear the hissing conversation. 

He pursed his lips to hide the little smile that was threatening to give him away in the corner of his mouth. This was just so amusing, not even Lou–who was well practiced in keeping a neutral expression–could keep the twinkle from his eye. He wanted to grin like the cat who’d eaten the canary. It was so fun, after all, to play with those who had less power than you.

Though, he was impressed with Junis’ willingness to take care of whatever it was he needed. When he finally scampered back to Lou’s side, he tilted his head, as if he was thinking about if there was anything he needed while he waited. But, really, he was thinking about what he should ask for that would be just outrageous enough, but still within limits.

And, then, he decided–well, fuck it. Go big or go home.

“Champagne, perhaps? Or coffee if you do not have any Laurent-Pierre. And if you do not, I suggest you stock some. It is an excellent champagne.” 

As soon as he asked for champagne all Junis could see was the broken bottles of the alcohol they’d had in stock. Only a few had been salvageable, and now that they’d reopened there was little to nothing since people had come in to get whatever was left. Now, like a lot of the other supplies, they were waiting on shipments to come in so they could restock.

Thankfully, he was saved by the second request of coffee. Coffee he could manage. 

“I’m terribly sorry, but we are still waiting on something to come in, including our supply of champagne. But! I will be sure put in an order for you. I’ll even send a bottle your way as a thank you for the suggestion,” he smiled, making a mental note to write that down on his to-do life as soon as Toulouse left the premises. 

“I can get you a cup of coffee. Would you like me to bring it out for you? Or would you rather come have a seat in our employee’s break room?” Junis asked, eyebrows quirking upwards. He thought about the room in question, knowing it was clean and nicer than the average lounge due to his inability to leave such a room un-home like, even in the event of trees ruining the space. 

The O'Hare Family Farm

Tigg…jumped. See, normally, she wouldn’t have been so startled by her name bein’ shouted, but Mr. O’Hare was…uhhhh, put gently, kind of scary. Or, he could be.

Not always, obviously, as Tigg liked to consider him a friend whether or not the feeling was mutual, but he could be. Especially when he was stressed (more than usual) - which. He was.

Tigg could handle scary. Frankly, Tigg herself was scary in a past life, before Swynlake, before Shere, and Ken, and Jiminy, and Mr. O’Hare. Before the latent softness inside her was safe to blossom.

Scary Tigg would’ve snapped at Mr. O’Hare. But that version of her wasn’t real, it was built up out of necessity to survive and was no longer needed. So real Tigg looked at her all confused and gestured to the broom in her hands.

“I’m…helpin’?” She cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. “Am I doin’ some’fin wrong, Mr. O’Hare? Oooooor,” she sing-songed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Are you glad to see me ‘ere, bein’ an upstanding ci’izen?”

Probably wasn’t that. Most certainly not. Still, she hated seeing him so wound up. (again, he always was, but more so than usual) Any attempt to make him smile was worth it.

Even that thin, unimpressed smile of his.

“Never did disaster clean up before, but I’ve cleaned. Can’t imagine what I could be doin’ wrong, but. I can take cri’icism.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he said, staring at the mop in her hands before looking up the aisle. Junis made eye contact with Martha, the team leader for this area, and before he could get a word out she was disappearing behind the shelf. He sighed, closing his eyes a pressed his fingers to his forehead. 

“Alright,” he opened his eyes and looked up at her, and took the mop from her. And, perhaps Tigg was doing it right. Honestly, she more than likely was but Junis being Junis couldn’t see past the girl who had been on the ground their first meeting. He had to ensure she knew what she was doing, even if she already did, for his own peace of mind. 

“I don’t need this soaking,” Junis huffed, pulling the mop over to the water bucket. He placed it in the soapy water, moving it around for a moment, then bringing it up to place into the wringer to pull the leaver to push the water out. “Keep it soapy but not too soapy.

Junis pulled it out and placed it on the floor, and looked up at Tigg, holding up a finger to catch her attention. 

“I don’t want to see any of this,” he said, pushing the mop forwards a little bit and then pulling it back. He repeated it a few times, five times, and then looked up to shake his head. “Absolutely not. No. I only want to see this.”

He put the mop out to his right as far as he could comfortably control it still, and then brought it to the left in a long stroke, turned it quickly, stepped back a bit, and brought it back the other way. Junis looked up at her, “With me?” 

Seamus stood up straight after a moment of scratching Maeve behind her ears, a bemused expression taking over his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. Junis appeared to be quietly panicking across from him, muttering to himself as the other man watched. He raised a brow, however, at one of the comments. Seamus was, no doubt, not supposed to hear it. Rather than get angry, however, he just laughed and shook his head. 

“I can do more than climb a bloody ladder, Junis. ‘mnae fragile.” He doubted that was really supposed to be the takeaway but he couldn’t help it. Jim said much the same to him, but usually, the lad was teasing. Usually. “An’ I said I called the realtor, but I think ye knew that.” Smile turning into a smirk, Seamus cocked his head to the side and watched the myriad of emotions playing over the younger man’s face. Eventually, he settled on something reminiscent of their first meeting. It made him snort, shake his head. 

“That so? See, ‘ve got meself a different theory.” He stepped a bit closer, that smirk of his still twisting his mouth, and was now almost chest to chest with the man, barring the fact that he’d yet to uncross his arms. “I think yer expectin’ that family tae come back. Dinnae want riffraff, aye? Like ‘em familiar?” He nodded his head as he spoke, working his way through his words slowly, as though thinking of every one. In fact, he’d had an inkling the man would say something the moment Junis had seen him on the property. 

Seamus just couldn’t give a shite. 

Unfurling his arms from where they were crossed, the brunette chuckled as he laid his palm out flat in front of him. “Ye’d have had an aneurysm ‘bout me property in th’ States if ye think this is bad off. An’ I know a thing or two ‘bout not bein’ touched up in a few decades, as ye so kindly indicated earlier.” He flexed his fingers, knocking into Junis as he shifted but paying it no mind. “Now, ye either have th’ key, which ‘m sure ye do, an’ ye let me take a look around –”

He stopped and a devilish smirk twisted up his face, crinkled up his eyes, and a mischievous laugh escaped him. This was entirely too much fun, and it had been a long while since he’d had someone around that he could push the buttons of. A self-imposed exile, Seamus knew, but it helped keep his mind off his lingering cloud of guilt. 

“–or I teach ye how tae pick a lock. Yer choice, ghràdh.”  

Junis huffed, his arms crossing over his chest in offense at the audacity of this man. Thinking he could just swoop in here and act like he knew everything there was to know about Junis...even though most of that had been true, it didn’t matter! There was no need to be so cocky about it. 

Oh, dear lord, this man had a home in America? Well if he was looking to move to the country why didn’t he move back there? Far, far, far, far, far away from here. And Junis. Wouldn’t that have been perfect? Take him, all his cars, and that look on his face with him across the Atlantic and with any luck Junis would never have to hear from him again. 

He pointedly turned away at the mention of the key, looking off down the road while his jaw worked, his knee bouncing in sync. Junis shook his head. Nope. No. No way was he going to give the key over. Then there would be little to no chance of this going in his favor. If Seamus liked the outside enough to call someone about it then the inside would only put a nail in Junis’s coffin. 

Then, at the words ‘pick a lock,’ he snapped back to look at Seamus. He looked him over for a moment with a raised eyebrow, trying to assess whether or not he was being serious. When he came to the conclusion that his insane man was he glared, his shoulders tightening at how absolutely infuriating this man was. Junis was regretting ever helping him as his attempt to keep him away from this house had failed so fully.

Finally, he sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes to look away from the look Seamus was giving him, and held out his arm to drop his keys into the out stretched hand. 

Now, this was customer service. In the tiny stores around town, you did not receive this kind of dedicated service. Lou was not used to it, per se, since he had grown up more or less in Swynlake, but whenever he went to France and stepped inside the boutiques, the employees always swarmed just like this. They asked what he wanted. Brought it to him. 

In some cases, when he went places with his aunt, she had the whole boutique closed, just for them.

Lou was kind of tempted to ask the same, just to see how far he could go with it.

If someone was willing to bend over backwards for him, why should he have to do the work?

“Bring them to me, if you would. There was a few other things on the list that I could not find as well,” he added, holding out his list. It was written in almost unintelligible cursive French. Also, he was lying. He had simply not gotten to the rest of his list yet. 

This was probably much faster anyhow.

“Of course!” Junis said, nodding. He stepped forwards, taking the list from Toulouse without cringing and forcing his shoulders to keep from moving as that would look terrible on his part. 

“Robert,” he called out, as he glanced down at the list, recognizing it the French from the few years he had taken in schooling that had been lost to him several years back. Junis looked up when the man was at his side, eyebrows raised in question for why his boss needed him. “I need you to get the items on this list and then bring them back to the front.”

Bob took the list, at first he pulled it forwards, narrowing his eyes at it, then pulled it away and frowned. He looked up at Junis, “Uh, sir, I can’t-.”

Junis smiled tightly, turning back to Toulouse, “If you would please excuse me a moment.”

He then motioned for Bob to follow him, a few steps over with their backs turned. Junis lowered his voice and look Bob in the eye, “I don’t care. I-, uh uh,” he closed his eyes and pulled his thumb against his fingers in a ‘shut your mouth’ motion as Bob began to protest. “I. Do not. Care. Use your phone, look it up, call someone, use a dictionary. Do whatever it takes to get these items. The integrity of this store is now on your shoulders. Do you understand me, Robert?” 

They stared at one another.

“I said, do you understand me, Robert?” Bob nodded. Junis smiled, clapping his hands together twice. “Good. Now get to it.” 

Junis had left Seamus to his own devices and said devices involved making a call to the number listed on the ‘for sale’ sign and seeing if he could get a look inside the farmhouse. Granted, that was fifteen minutes into the walkabout but  that was all the time he needed. The Scotsman had checked the bones of her and deemed them sound; he’d walked the length of the fenceline, checked the soil and a number of other things in the other man’s absence. There was even room for a workshop, room enough for his cars to be worked on and kept out of sight from the roadway. Most he would probably pay to have stored out here; there was no reason to have them out. But that was hardly concerning.

It all seemed to fall together perfectly at his feet. 

The man was leaning up against a wooden post with Maeve sitting calmly at his feet. She’d had a run about the land herself and seemed to be enjoying it just as much as he was. In fact, he hadn’t felt this relaxed since waking up from that godforsaken nightmare. The sound of a door slamming, a truck engine starting and then abruptly cutting off a few minutes later signaled the return of his companion. Maeve barked a happy hello to the younger man and Seamus shook his head, smirking. 

Pushing away from the spot, Seamus walked to meet Junis at the edge of the property line. An amused tlt to his head and a chuckle escaped him; Junis almost looked more out of sorts than he had all day. But that wasn’t what made him laugh. Rather, it was his insistance that they get moving. Seamus shoved his hands in his jean pockets and shrugged. “Dinnae think we’ll need tae do all that, Junis. Think I like this one.” Nodding his head back towards the house, Seamus grinned a little, a crooked smile that made him look years younger. “It’s got all th’ space I need, an area fer me briefs an’ room tae build a shop. Area fer some animals, maybe some field crops. Dunno yet. House is good too. Got good bones.” 

He gestured for the other man to come walk with him before he was off back towards the house, talking as he gestured. “I already made a call tae th’ realtor. Said she’d come round an’ open th’ house fer me. Or, if ye had a key, that we could go in that way. Says she knows ye an’ I dinnae even have tae mention ye.” He cocked an eyebrow at the lean of the porch, muttered about the weeds and the disarray that had been the garden and flowerbeds but that was merely a matter of hardwork and a few hours’ time. 

Hell, he’d even redo the slate on the roofing if it meant getting this land. He turned to Junis as though to ask his opinion of the place but was interrupted by Maeve nudging him with her nose. He laughed a bit and reached down to scratch behind her ears, not minding in the slightest when she leaned against his leg.

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. 

Confound it. This is what he had been trying to avoid for weeks now! Ever since the couple across the way had put up the sign Junis had been on top of the situation. Every person who had stopped by to see it he had been there to look them over. It was a big deal to him because this was the only house around his own, and his farm, for a long ways. That meant the people or person who moved in needed to be up to standard if they were going to be living so close to his family’s livelihood. 

He had been hoping that the previous owners, quiet people who had been there since before he had been born, would change their minds in the end. Or be worn down with the lack of offers. 

“You did what?” he asked, his voice raising. No! Nononono! If this...this man, vampire, immortal, whatever! were to live across the street it would be a nightmare. Vehicles, cars, grease, unknown people visiting, and who knew about his upkeep skills. The man was over a century old for God’s sake! Could he even use a ladder at his age?

“I can assure you,” Junis started, smiling tightly with a voice to match the forced positvity, “that you do not want this house. I mean--! Just look at it!”

He gestured, “It’s practically falling apart! The price to fix the outside alone will cost you a small fortune. Not to mention the land that comes with it is surely more than you’re looking for! And who’s to say about the inside! There is no telling what you’ll find in those walls, it hasn’t been touched up in decades!” 

Junis laughed, clicking his tongue. Yes, he did have a key, because the owners had given it to him since they were the perfect neighbors. Was he going to admit that so readily to show Seamus the inside? Absolutely not. He knew how nice the inside was, how well taken care of it was. He just didn’t want Seamus to know that.