#roughdraft

Which might be why family doesn’t come to visit. Which also might be why we started playing the game in the first place.

Sure, it comes in handy when we have to hide, but then not a soul on the planet truly remembers us. They know the ideas of us, the stories. But when you’re an undying God (capital G), no one really gets to know you, anyway. No one wants to see you for you when seeing your favor is all that matters. No one acts themselves around the Gods, instead putting on airs of fealty and devotion. No one can love a God, except, maybe another God…

“You’re doing it again,” My cousin groaned, tossing his sopping jacket on me where I sat, pulling me out of my reverie.

“Doing what?” I groused, pulling a face as the rainwater and whatever else had sprayed him dripped all over my lap as I tried to push the garment off. It reeked of the city.

“Thinking about her,” he rolled his eyes. “She’s not ever going to fall into some stupor over you, you know. She would’ve by now.”

My biting remark about HIS choice of partners to moon over was cut short by the intercom buzzing. I immediately hit the button to allow the delivery up, starved, when I caught the look on my cousin’s face. Guilt.

“Why-“

“It’s not delivery…sorry…”

The door swung open with a creak, and my sister stepped across the threshold. I shot my cousin a filthy look and didn’t shy from gifting the same to her.

“Great. You found me. What do you want?”

My sister frowned as she took in the space, not bothering to look me in the eye as she said, “If you answered your phone like you promised you would, I wouldn’t have had to hunt you down. It was a stroke of luck I ran into…”she sighed heavily and turned to my cousin, “what did you demand your name was this time?”

He grinned like a man winning the sweetest gift in his life. “Phil. I picked Phil this time.”

Phil. Fillion. Nathan Fillion. So far, his second favorite portrayal of himself, only behind Lin-Manuel Miranda. But as he wasn’t currently presenting Hispanic, he chose the white guy.

“Christ,” She pinched her nose

“He’s not here till next week,” I said flatly.

“Oh stop. Anyway. Phil told me you were avoiding EVERYONE but promised to get me in. It’s important.”

“What’s so important, dear sister?” I closed my eyes, leaning back on the couch.

“Uncle is dying.”

Shit.

I opened one eye, cautiously. “Which uncle? Uncle Bi or Uncle Tri?” Because neither of them can die. Gods.”

“That’s why it’s important. Uncle Tri,” Her voice actually cracked. Uncle Tri was Father’s closest brother. Close enough that it never bothered him that we called him Uncle Tri for the tines of his trident. “Uncle Tri is dying. Dad doesn’t know why. Uncle Bi doesn’t know why. No one does. So he’s calling everyone home until we understand.”

My mouth opened and closed, more venom swallowed than released at the look from Phil. From the watery eyes of my sister.

“Jamie…Artie’s right,” Phil shrugged. “Let’s just go. At least for a few days. We’re not missing anything here”

Despite herself, the slight hiccup in her voice, the anger I could read in her eyes for allowing herself to show weakness, my sister, Artie, managed an annoyed smile. “Jamie?”

I sighed, nodding to them both, resigned for this unwelcome homecoming.

“Yeah. Jamie. Jamie Bamber. Played Lee Adama on the reboot of Battlestar.”

The sound of Artie’s eyes rolling would have given Sisyphus a panic-attack.