“I still don’t see what’s so bad about them pants.”

The shop clerk exchanged an amused look with Freddie as she re-tagged and neatly folded the too-short pair of trousers they were returning. “You’ll see!” she caroled, “once you try on the ones in your proper size.”

Ephram just harrumphed in reply, rubbing his palm over his bristly, shorn-close head. The buzzed hair had -- despite its steep downturn in the quality of his overall fashion, Ephram wearing nothing more fancy than jeans and sweats and an endless array of t-shirts and flannel -- produced one sartorial change that the witch knew his husband was entirely in favour of: he’d stopped wearing hats, for a while. A trucker cap here and there, but that was it. 

(For no reason more complex than the fact that buzzed hair felt really nice when you ran your hand over it, but Ephram didn’t bother to get into that detail.)

The town wasn’t entirely without its charm, Laetitia supposed. It supernatural character meant that finding somewhere to alight in Soapberry for her purposes was easy enough -- a modestly-sized and luxuriously-appointed suite that a fairy eager to curry favour had vacated for her especially -- and Laetitia had been there for a week, now. Watching, observing, amusing herself with thoughts of how this would have gone if she’d glamoured herself and taken a room at the Stonefruit Inn, instead.

But that was too close. This way she could observe under a different glamour, each time, and she hadn’t decided yet if it was satisfying or disappointing that Reginald’s son seemed faintly ruffled when she was around but didn’t quite manage to locate the reason for his dust being stirred.

“I believe it’s time, now,” Laetitia said, moving one ankle of her crossed legs in a contemplative circle. Her golden monkey familiar, crouched beneath one of the other chairs at the outdoor patio table, made a garbling sound, wringing its paws, and Laetitia hit the high heel of her shoe against the metal chair, startling it. “This is what we came here for! We’re not on bloody holidays. And it won’t ruin his life, don’t be ridiculous.” She stood, smoothing down the beautifully-fitted skirt suit that she wore, tucking her fur stole closer around her shoulders as her monkey crept out from under the chair. “This is what he’s been waiting for his entire life.”

A flat smile tugged her lips into a curl as Laetitia left the cafe patio, walking in neat, quick steps across the street to where her son was gazing into a boutique window.  “I’m -- I’m sorry,” Laetitia said, haltingly, “but are you -- I’m your Mummy, Freddie.”

“I cannot imagine,” Teddy said the very moment Freddie walked through the door of The Arbutus Club and the nymph strode ostentatiously over to collect her fairy companion, “why you would make such a comment about Otto’s proposing to bring you here for prurient interests! Honestly, it’s as though you insist on being the most trying creature you can possibly be.”

Oddly, though, there wasn’t much accompanying frustration in Teddy’s voice, only an air of satisfaction as the maître d’ showed them both to a booth in the requisite colours of a hunting lodge, deep jewel and forest tones, where they were duly situated with an excellent and nosy view of all the other patrons. “I don’t imagine you’d prefer somewhere more inconspicuous,” Teddy remarked, picking up her own of the two glasses of sherry they were served immediately.

“It’s not so much insistence, love, as it is a naturally occurring phenomenon,” Freddie said with a smile as he bussed Teddy’s cheek with a kiss hello, “And really, for Otto, it was a rather noteworthy overture - retiring as he could be about that sort of thing. Don’t you think?”

They were shown to their rather lovely booth, the view of their fellow patrons utterly delightful, and Freddie grinned at his… friend? Was that what Teddy was now? What an interesting thought…. then reached for his own glass of sherry, sipping it and setting it down again. “Inconspicuous and dull are nearly synonymous,” he said, “This table is perfect, Teds; you couldn’t have chosen better.”

He took up his sherry again. “So go on then, fill me in on all the more interesting things you’ve been up to since I’ve seen you last.” Freddie took another sip of his drink. “I assume you’ll be ordering for the both of us tonight, Professor?”

“I’ve already put in our dinner order, as a matter of fact.” Teddy took a judicious sip of her sherry, deemed it passable, and set the glass back down with her fingers splayed around its base against the table as she regarded Freddie. “If you want to pitch a fit and get it out of the way, then you’ll be complaining about zereshk polow with a saffron-tumeric grilled lamb. And I’ve ordered us fennel salads to go with.”

Teddy lifted her chin in a challenge, but was soon sidetracked by the fact that Freddie had inquired as to what she’d been up to -- inquiries about her no doubt fascinating and enviable life never going astray. “There is, now that you’ve mentioned it, an idea I’ve been toying with,” she began with a faint strain of reluctance, and fortified herself with a swallow of sherry as the waiter brought them some amuse bouche of little tamarind pork buns.

Picking one up and taking a neat, sharp bite from it, Teddy went on, “I’m currently in the throes of negotiating a fim festival. Supernatural, of course -- there’s a touring group of Bengali nagas who’ve been presenting at universities and theatres internationally, all short films, ranging from experimental absurdism to children’s parables to romantic comedy. It’s not only high-brow stuff and nonsense, before you accuse me of being a snob.” Teddy added this last part hotly, even though Freddie hadn’t done anything of the sort.

[ TEXT ]: You up? [ TEXT ]: I redecorated my place. [ TEXT ]: My bed isn’t worn in yet.

[ TEXT ]: Hey Freddie. [ TEXT ]: I got invited to a soft opening for a new resturant, to test out their menu, I thought maybe you’d like to join me? [ TEXT ]: If you were invited as well, entirely possible, perhaps we could sit together?

We’ve been chomping at the bit to do an exposé on the Stonefruit Inn since those two n’er do wells first opened the doors of that place. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to provide free advertising for Slickity Shemp’s Squat ‘n’ Chew to do it, even if they do have tasty, unique eight-dollar lunch specials every day and even on weekends, and selkies under 5-foot-2 are half-price!

Elena’s arrival to Soapberry Springs coincidentally fell in line with her birthday, which normally, wouldn’t have meant anything to the mermaid. Her pod didn’t celebrate birthdays, it was considered a very landfolk type of tradition that merfolk and her pod in particular just didn’t practice. Elena had always felt the same but the last year or so she’d spent a lot of time on the surface and she’d been trying to learn more about landfolk and their ‘rites’ and a birthday celebration seemed like just the thing to really understand them better.

That being said, she didn’t actually know what was supposed to happen on a birthday. All she knew was that people liked to dress up and do fun things with people they liked. So Elena enlisted the help of Freddie, because who would be better at helping her to have fun than a charming handsome fairy who had the the whole town at his disposal. 

“Freddie!” She quite literally danced towards him, the lilac silky dress she wore floating around her legs, it’s movements eerily like she was in water even now as she stood before him. “I’ve missed you so much you know!” Elena smiled at him brightly, her cheeks flushed with a messy attempt at blush -- the only bit of makeup she felt able enough to attempt because the concept was simple enough. “No one else I’ve ever met is quite as charming as you, and I’ve met a lot of people who think they’re charming but they’re actually not. Sometimes they are though, but not as much as you. Do you like my dress? I just got it. I really like the color of it. It reminds me jellyfish.” Since she’d been in the Caribbean, her skin was freshly tanned and it contrasted the light lilac of her dress quite nicely. 

He wasn’t sure where Bellamy had dragged him off to - it looked like some kind of a wine and art event thingie. All he knew was that he was in an expensive suit he couldn’t eat or drink in, because it was too expensive for stains, uncomfortable and too self-conscious among all these classy, fine people who gave him funny looks. Well… that one blonde chick in super high stilettos winked at him, so he must be doing at least something right.

He was the replacement wolf boyfriend again, following the petite vampire to wherever she wanted to go in place of Miles, who was always working. He didn’t mind - they mostly did stuff they both liked. But sometimes they did stuff only Bella liked. Ryden didn’t complain. Except about the tie. So he had no tie on right then. Maybe that was what the funny looks were about. Everyone else had a tie. Fuck ties. They are just bedroom props anyway. Honestly, it should be indecent to wear them outside.

The blonde vamp clung to his arm happily, all smiles and some smug pride which Ryden knew was coming from the fact that she was perfectly dressed, beautiful, had an equally gorgeous date and everyone important was there to see it. Fine, whatever. Hurts no one. Though he still wasn’t sure why else would they be here. She didn’t particularly like the host of the event, which she haven’t failed to mention at length several times now. Why go somewhere where there’ll be people you don’t like? But then again, Bella was his little Queen B of Drama. If her life could be Mean Girls, she’d be that main bitch. Sassy but he still adored her queen of the prom self. 

She mingled about, introducing him to this and that person whose names he’d instantly forget, Ryden smiling stiffly and taking any opportunity he had when no one was looking to tug at the tight collar of his shirt. She informed him that it was an Armani. Armani-shwarmani. Someone give him a t-shirt, please.

A flamboyant, charming man approached them, wide grin plastered over his face, the kind of smile that was practiced for the occasion, unmistakably making him out as the host of this thing. That smile died like a childhood ending after a first paid bill when he saw them. He approached nevertheless. 

“Mrs Barnes.” He addressed her, a sigh behind his disappointed tone.

“Freddie.” She reciprocated and Ryden saw their eyes narrowing at one another. He let out a soft whistle through pursed lips, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. You could cut the air with a butter knife here. They really didn’t smell each other as much as Bellamy had told him.

“Hope you’re enjoying yourselves? What do you think about my collection? I’d say it’s worth seeing the light of day every now and then, hm?” He asked and Ryden figured it was the paintings all around the rented out gallery place. Bellamy, thankfully, took over the conversation because all Ryden had to say was that the wine was okay and if it weren’t for that, he’d contemplate suicide with a rusty spoon. But it was the suit, really, nothing to do with the art. He knew nothing about art and knowing nothing wasn’t reason enough to kill yourself. An itchy collar kind of was. He scratched under it again.

A tense conversation ensued between the two, which Ryden didn’t follow as he tried to get a glass of wine for himself but failed to reach for one of the passing waiter’s trays, locked in place by Bellamy’s grip on his arm. Which almost made him stumble as it was suddenly released, Bellamy screeching in excitement as she darted off to greet another familiar face.

“Ephram!” Her enthusiasm for seeing the Sheriff was a stark contrast to whatever dislike she had for the host of the event. She practically bounced over to him on her high Gucci pumps, straight into Ephram’s embrace, red lips brushing against the Sheriff’s in an innocent, familiar affection. Ryden’s jaw dropped. He looked to his left, as if to ask the other man if he’d seen this blasphemy. The roll of Freddie’s eyes and a click of his tongue said it all, even though it wasn’t directed as support to Ryden’s own thoughts.

They stood there, awkward and without anything to talk about except glare at the other pair, Freddie making the Rosé in his wine glass swirl with a delicate twist of his wrist, like gentlemen did during a particularly boring conversation. He wanted to greet his husband, especially when he was all dressed up and looking like a million bucks, which was a rare sight. Bella stole that spotlight of the evening. And Freddie was quietly fuming. Ryden was scratching at his collar again. 

The other two engaged themselves into an animated conversation - a giggle here, a touch there. Fredie had enough. “Darling, could you stand still for a moment? Good, like that, mhmm.” He fixed Ryden’s crooked collar and just when the young wolf was about to say his thanks, an unfamiliar pair of lips were pressed against his, lingering for a second. By the time it was over, Freddie was patting his shoulder. “Thanks, love.” He walked away with all the elegance of nothing happened here. Ryden looked back to Bellamy and Ephram, both now staring with their mouth agape. 

The Sheriff rushed after his husband, briefly pausing near Ryden to raise a warning finger close to his face. Ryden grinned at it. He was gone after the fairy without another word. Bellamy joined Ryden second after, both looking back at the retreating pair, looking at each other, then snorting out suppressed giggles. Ryden finally managed to stop a waitress and grab some wine. Their glasses clinked together over the giggling.

@freddiewatts