Chimerism;

                  “EDUCATION is …” Nora’s words trailed off as she watched her boss haul the goods. S u r e, she could have helped but the words he uttered just seemed to baffle her instead. The redhead merely s h o o k her head and tossed him a more worried look. “Um. Alright. So I just ring out the customers when I’m here basically? I can do that.”

      “I wasn’t being serious about the education thing,” he said, loading the breads into the baskets and hooking the tray under his arm as he turned. “Though, you will have to learn a few words to make sure the orders are right. They’re easy to understand.” As he move behind the counter, he pulled cherry tarts from the display case, brought it to her and offered it. “Exactly. I might ask you occasionally to help clean or set displays, maybe more in the future, but you’ll do fine. I’m sure of it. Why are you nervous?”

                  “SO there’s perks to working at a bakery, r i g h t? The most I’ve ever done for work was collect overdue fees for my high school library.”

      “Well,” he began, hauling a large try to the display baskets. “You get actual benefits for working for me. I take care of my employees insurances. In addition you are required to try the new things I make that would possibly go for sale here. You may not like it, but it is free food, nonetheless. Oh, you might learn a few German words because that’s what most of the labels are in. Education is fun.”

“Lucky for you, I don’t eat much. I’m okay. You look frazzled, big rush today?” Having only moved to town the day before, Sami was wandering, trying to get her bearings in the new place and the sensation of being out and about in daylight again. Stumbling across the bakery had been pure chance.

      “A bit of a understatement,” he sighed, continuing as he was with locking the bakery. “On any other day, I would stay late to get ahead of tomorrow but..” He turned to his company and shoved his hands into his pockets, a faint smile finally reaching his tiers in genuine relief he locked all the troubles away, or most of them. “I think the second night in a row is dedicated enough. I take it I couldn’t offer you anything to try either, could I?”

As her hand guided his, he was still the child but instead of following after the woman who always walked ahead, he was being led along with the promise of fun and a curious notion: We’re strangers, tonight. “What’s that supposed to mean?” It was pang in his chest at first, mistaking the anonymity for dismissal and distance when their shared history, its bizarre disaster, had brought them closer beneath the sheets. But were her digits laced into his there and no indication of space yet, the pain flourished into intrigue of where they were going and why they would be two strangers walking into a room together. “Where are we going? Are we somehow going on a blind date? Why wouldn’t I know you?”

“Excuse me, do you think you could help me find…” Davina paused, glancing down at the map in her hand. How she could live her for two years and still have no idea how to get around was beyond her. “The laundromat? This basket’s getting a little heavy to drag in circles.” She sheepishly lifted her basket of unwashed clothing, shrugging her shoulders as she looked expectantly at the other, awaiting a reply. “I can pay you for your help, if you’d like.”

      “It’s a bit ways down the street. Not sure if you passed it, already.” His head nodded in the direction of reference before his gaze darted down at her map with curiosity; he didn’t think they had maps of this place, but then he never thought people used them with the invention of phones. “I’m heading there myself,” Sebastian added, though his hands empty of any linens or clothes needed washed. “If you like I could carry that for you?”

ft. Toes by Glass Animals

         “Cold. Cold town. Full yet empty. So much sorrow. A watcher sees this. Slow  to move … one could bother another for directions? Warmth and sustenance, something for energy, perhaps?”

      “It’s not all that bad.” Though he couldn’t argue her point. There was more pain than anyone was willing to share, but it didn’t need to be focused on. “Erm, there is the coffee shop and cafe, the bakery’s further down. I’m going there now. I could show them all, in passing.”

Winnie rolled her eyes “Bow and arrow” She said with a scoff “And I point at whatever makes me jump. Like someone who could be a threat. So.. You” She added, lowering her arm and relaxing the string slightly. She unlocked the arrow “Not planning on using it on you, to be honest, just… Keeping practice regular, I guess. And to answer your question, no. Not enough noise” She said with a shrug. “Poaching? I’ve never been really thoughtful about that, but I’ll let you know if I ever get the call from the cops”

      The curl to his lip was small, accompanied with shake to his head. The point still stood despite the weaponry. “Oh really. Is that what it’s called? Well, you can excuse my lack of lessons for yours, especially since I was the only one threatened.” He nodded toward the field before them, then back to the bow.  “Do you clean what you hunt yourself?”

         “I’m sure a lot of the gentlemen would be beside themselves to see you on the stage. I, however, have to politely decline. You’ll make my girls jealous and they’re scarier than Medusa when they get upset.” He’d seen the back stage arguments one time or another. Hair pulling, tossing bottles, scratching or outright tearing at each other … He’d laugh if they didn’t actually do damage to each other. “You’re a flatterer, as per usual. Have you been here long, Mister Reininger?”

       “If you hadn’t declined, I would have accepted within a heartbeat. Who doesn’t enjoy a woman tearing them to shreds amidst a passionate rage?” His tongue clicked against his teeth as he retreated a polite step away, though his hands didn’t know what to do with themselves as they began to rest at his side but then crossed his torso, digits rest on his ribs when the other asked the duration-- but then, it wasn’t too uncommon for the man who needed his hands occupied. “A half year, though I hadn’t realized how long it was til now. It feels much shorter, like all my memories of weeks could be clustered into a prolonged day. What brings you here? It such a small town, select clientele. This is the last stop before the edge of the world.”

         “The Club is officially opening next Friday night. Business hours for the office start at ten PM. Unless you’re dropping off an application to tend bar, bounce, or be one of my beautiful dancers, I’m a busy man. Make it quick.” His words were crass, sure, but he pointed them with what he imagined to be a pleasant smile. The doors of Club Allure were open to official business inquiries only, the soft opening next Thursday, the offical Friday night. Fingers roamed the files on his desk and after a moment Lucien tossed a glance upward at his company, expectant for their appeal.

      “If you are eager for a beautiful dancer, I am your man. I’ll send you my resume, ja? My talents include stripping out of an apron seductively.” His laugh was hearty as he stepped around the desk, waited for the man to rise to his feet to greet him with a handshake and pecks to his cheeks. “Willkommen, mein Freund. You make this place more interesting and accommodating by your mere presence.”

Her eyes were drawn to the bag being held out to her before rising to settle on the familiar face, offering a small tired smile in way of a greeting. Even with other staff to help man the shop Alice still overloaded herself with work, and that was before Dexter’s absence meant she had to handle the deliveries on her own “It’s a shame really, I think a tree would look really nice here too.” Putting more effort into her smile Alice fully turns to face Sebastian, taking his offering and peeking inside “You really have to stop spoiling me, though as always I appreciate the thought.” 

      “It would look nice here, but I don’t think the broken pottery or cement beneath it will help much. And I assure you, you are the one spoiling me by taking them. Your counterpart would attest to it, or maybe spoiling each other to his dismay.” And with his hand free, he began to work, not unlike anything he was used to. Spending years alone with his mother, where she the bearer of money, Sebastian learned quickly and learned well what homemaking was, or the essentials of it. One of which was an easy lesson to take: no mess would clean itself. He bent down and began removing the smaller shards of pottery, then searched for a larger to scoop the soil when ready. “Do you have a replacement for this?”

Winnie tightened the string back in her bow, an arrow in her hand, and she aimed it down to the floor. She heard a wild flock of turkeys, the leaves rustling. She placed her back against a tree to keep herself steady, and waited. But all of a sudden, she heard leaves rustling behind her. All her right mind told her that she was perfectly safe, but her hunter instincts made her flinch and turn around instantly, pointing her arrow right at the intruder’s face. She sighed an exasperated sigh. “Jesus christ, have you never been taught not to sneak up on people?!” She said, putting it down once she had clearly seen they were no threat.

      “Were you ever taught not to point a loaded gun at someone’s face,” he retorted back, calmer than one should have been. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder, looking past her and back. It was a long tread to walk in the forest, avoiding eyesight that he was meeting a relative at the entrance gates. “Unless you were planning on using it. I thought I was making enough noise,” he lied, knowing well he made his footsteps light to avoid notice. He hadn’t thought they were so successful to have a projectile aimed at his face by a figure hidden behind a tree. “Would this be considered poaching? Hunting in a forest own by the city?”

“ONLY IF I think they can take it.” It was obvious how German this patron was. It was either the shape of his face, the accent, or the look in his eye but Bishop knew that a German had the ability to drink. “I don’t advocate anything responsible, personally. Though I think you’re tidal-locked into the beer for know. Something about a poem and beer before liquor getting sick and all.”

      "I don’t know that saying,” he shrugged, smiling as the bottle met his lips for a swig. “Besides, one beer won’t hurt. It won’t help a bruised pride. Who made up this shit, anyway?” Maybe he had heard the little saying, last memories of it being at a bar where girls warned each other about their bingeing habits lest they make themselves sick and embarrassed. If there was anything the German knew, and most likely his present company knew as well, it could be worked around. “I don’t come here too often, but I know you’re face is new. Do I get to know who my challenger and company is?”

         “Tracks. Lingering scent.” Living as long as she had guaranteed acquiring a specific skill set. Clarity’s job bounty hunting stemmed from that of contracted sniping for the military once upon a time. Black water ops. They had a new name now, but she wasn’t associated anymore. She knew how to track, read the earth, see the signs that something had passed through recently or not. It was difficult to explain to someone who hadn’t learned how to read the signs, but still she gestured toward the dirt. “The leaves are all fucked but they’re settling now. You can tell someone passed through here. And … whatever they are isn’t human. But it smells more like petrichor now than anything, and it’s stinking the place up. So it rained for a little bit after they passed through, or maybe during, and it drowned a lot of whatever they were out.”

Fingers tapped thoughtlessly against her thigh, and after a spell Clarity turned to face Sebastian. Lips were pressed, the corner of her mouth upturned as if she were going to sneer, but it never came. Once the rapping stopped on her thigh she pointed, raising two fingers lazily from the fabric of her pants to indicate to his own lap. Once brow rose, visage too matter-of-fact. The jig was up. “That one.” Pretending that they hadn’t shared some form of intimate moment was a joke. The tension between the two of them was palpable at any given time … she just pretended to ignore it. And while Clarity didn’t really know what he boasted, she certainly felt it at that time. “You look pleased with yourself.” She would be too, if she were him, honestly.

       His eyes focused to where she gestured in the dirt, trying to decipher the subtle tells and hints in a broken stem or a trampled leaf. There was a mental note that he should have paid more attention because the tells she referenced now he didn’t recognized when they set off or now. To him, it looked like dirt, and if he wanted to impr-- hold that thought. No, that wasn’t how he should word it, not here and not with an open mind she could tap into at her rare discretion. He would enjoy having a similar skill set as her, even if he was lacking in the more refined senses that allowed her to smell pass the earthy tones filling the moisture in the air. Yet, to his defense of poor awareness, Clarity had intentionally, and effectively knocked him off guard in last few minutes.

But that smile he was holding back appeared on his lips without thought to stopping it, not for the game of words they were playing but by her demeanor, as if she was debating whether to be mad with him or move on. There was something about her rough edges he grew fond of with each interaction: unafraid to be cruel with a cruel world, even if it meant being angry over the smallest of things. Like everything and nothing mattered, or nothing mattered and she became displeased for things that tried to demand her attention or caring. That one. Of course he was a little proud, especially with her admitting she noticed... well. He clearly recalled her words ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ and while he had no contemplation on it, there had been a reasoning that in her expanded lifetime Clarity had more endowed experiences. “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “I thought you weren’t impressed.”