#pratcentral

“Oh man the pickle man is screwing us up!”

@prat-central

“What, the bug? Nah…..that was a gift.” Neal shrugged with a smirk. “That I borrowed from someone else.”

 Neal. His name was Neal now. She had to remember that.

Neal. Neal. Neal Neal Neal NealNealNealNealNealNealNealNealNeal. Neal.

Neal.

Maybe if she kept that in mind, if she called him by a name he preferred instead of the one she’d been referring to him as for centuries, things...might become okay between them.

“Neal?” Oh, good. She was proud of herself. Fortunately he was alone at the table, in the diner. Diners were odd. Odder still was the old woman behind the counter. She was neither blind nor a witch. So she didn’t feel twitch when she saw Henry in here by himself. Well, not as much.

She tried not to wring her hands. Goodness. She’d faced pirates and sea monsters and Hades. She could do this. “I’ve been trying to recreate a stew I used to make. I think I’ve found all the herbs, figured out what they’re called here, found some decent replacements for those that don’t exist here. Did you know kitten’s ear is called oregano here? I was wondering if you’d want to see if it is. The same. I’d ask your father, but--” She was proud of herself again. She’d almost said ‘but he’s likely to just crush my heart again’ and, while possibly true, father and son seemed to be getting along. Well, much better than mother and son. “--I don’t think he’d want to.”