yet ANOTHER g/t sideblog

The morning came easily, birds chirping causing his eyes to flutter open easily. It was a dreamless sleep, and that he was grateful for. He packed up his gear as the sun began to rise, and headed for the nearest town. He was far from Edmund's, and for a moment, he allowed himself to consider it as his home for a moment as a small comfort. He had entered the day market before he had truly realized it, taking a deep breath to try and bring himself into the moment. Instead, he caught the scent of buttery pastries, and nearly choked as Edmund was brought to his mind. Being away was simply just torture, but it was always worth it if it meant he was serving his purpose and protecting the innocent. He stopped at the cart selling the pastries to find an old woman and a young boy sitting at the front.

"Hello, sir." The old woman bowed her head to him, and Hendrick bowed his own in return. "Have you eaten breakfast this morning?" The blonde smiled.

"I don't believe so." He took a glance at the selection. His eye caught on a particular dish he had never seen before, that was covered with a shimmering bright pink glaze.

"Oh, those are my favorite!" The boy spoke up from behind the old woman. Hendrick smiled brighter at him, and the boy sort of retracted into her coat.

"Really?" The blonde entertained him for a moment, reminded of his nephew when he was younger. Brighter. He could only hope that with the company of Mabel and Roger that his boy could regain himself again. "What is it?"

"It's called a Faery Treat!" The boy continued, glancing at the old woman, who nodded. He stepped forwards with a bright smile and continued. "It's s'posed to taste just like fae food, but without the price of your soul!" Hendrick laughed at the child's blunt way of putting it.

"I'll take two." He chuckled softly to himself, watching as the boy excitedly moved to pack up the Faery Treats. "Y'know..." he began, and the boy paused. "I've actually met a few faeries before..."

"Really?" The boy asked excitedly. His eyes were wide and sparkling with interest.

"Mhm." Hendrick nodded, keeping his smile on his face before repeating the old tale he had been told many times. By now, he knew it probably wasn't true, but there was no harm in allowing the boy to have some sort of wonder around them. A safe amount of fear, too, of course. "When I was a lad, stumbled upon a brood of faeries sitting before a flower. I thought it was quite beautiful, and wanted to pluck it to bring to my mother." He winked at the old woman, who smiled knowingly. "Of course, when I reached for the flower, they tied me up in vines faster than I could blink. I explained my situation, wanting the flower as a gift for my mother, and the faeries tittered at me angrily. That was the day I learned that little faeries are born with the blooms of flowers. And that day, I watched as it bloomed with a gentle glow, and a tiny winged faery emerged. She was embraced in a chorus of beautiful buzzing, and the vines around me loosened in a display of gentle mercy. I left that day humming the tune, and that, of course, was the greatest gift of all."

"You know that song, don't you little one?" The old woman asked the boy, and he smiled brightly with a nod. He began to hum it, albeit a little crudely, and skipped around to the back of the cart. The old woman passed Hendrick the Faery Treats.

"How much do I owe you?" He asked, laughing slightly. The old woman's eyes crinkled.

"For you, sir, nothing." She exhaled deeply, remaining smiling and peaceful. "Between you and me, that was the song his parents used to hum to him. Thank you, sir. Thank you for reminding him of that joy." She cupped one of his hands in her own. "May you return to your family peacefully and joyously." She bowed her head to him again, and Hendrick allowed himself to breathe with her. When she let go of his hand, he had swiftly slipped a few gold coins into her palm and left without another word.

Hendrick took one of the Faery Treats out of the bag and bit into it with a crunch that soothed him. As he chewed, he was hit with a lovely raspberry jam center, and before he knew it, he had devoured the entire thing. He stared at the remaining treat in the bag, the corners of his mouth dipping. He closed it quickly and added it to his pack, encasing it in a small chest so he knew it would remain intact by the time he returned. For Edmund, of course. He knew the giant baker was always searching for new recipes to add to his bakery. Because of his size, however, Edmund would never get to try most human dishes. It was up to Hendrick to bring them to him.

He continued through the market, searching for a jeweler of some sort to ask about the piece he had in mind for Edmund. A ring. He hoped it wouldn't be strange to bring the giant a ring if it wasn't for the purpose of marriage. He didn't want to rush into something like that despite his yearning for the giant, as he knew exactly what happened when relationships went south while bound by marriage. He spotted one and sighed with relief before stepping in. A burly blonde man stood at the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

"Can I help you?" He asked gruffly. Hendrick nodded, eagerly stepping up to the counter despite the unwelcoming energy.

"Yes, I, um, I am in the market for quite the piece, if you are willing to craft it?" He stuttered, flushing red with embarrassment. He couldn't be acting like this in front of other people, not when he was supposed to be a somewhat stoic, forever handsome knight.

"What kind of piece?" The jeweler asked, raising a thick eyebrow.

"A ring." The jeweler's face brightened.

"What kind? Engagement? Wedding?" He seemed interested now that it appeared the ring would come with a hefty price tag.

"Well, um, just... a ring." The jeweler looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. "It is for my partner, of course, but I, uh..."

"Ah. Yes, yes, you are much older than I'd expect to be a lovesick soul." The jeweler laughed loudly. "What makes you think it will be expensive, then?"

"Well, I need it to be quite... large." The jeweler nodded and Hendrick continued. "Perhaps... wide enough to fit around my head is large enough for him?" He muttered to himself, and the jeweler's eyes widened.

"Ah. Got yourself tangled with one of them big'uns, huh?" He smirked, and Hendrick flushed bright red. Of course, the man was correct, but that only made it all the more embarrassing. He was terrible at being calm when it came to anything other than his job.

"Yes." He admitted softly, and the jeweler laughed. Hendrick raised an eyebrow. "You don't find that... troubling?"

"Ah, no. My daughter is in love with an orc, herself. You young people just really seem to like explorin' your options." He laughed again, uncovering his counter to show off his gemstones. "Now, what were you thinking?"

"Well, I was initially thinking of using amber, but, uh..." Hendrick drew back on himself as he reconsidered the idea. Perhaps making the gemstones the same color as the giant's eyes wasn't the best gift. If only he knew Edmund's favorite color... He had always assumed the giant was partial to purple based on his usual belts, but he could always be wrong. "I suppose I'm not actually... sure..." The jeweler shook his head slightly, tsking the knight.

"Classic." He laughed again. "You can come back when you have a better idea, if you'd like?"

"Oh, yes. That's probably a good idea." Hendrick agreed, bowing his head to the man. "I apologize for wasting your time, sir."

"Please, it's not like there's a line out the door behind you." The man waved him off simply, waving his hand up and down. "I'll keep it in mind and figure out what I can use for the banding.''

"I greatly appreciate it sir." Hendrick bowed his head again, reaching out and shaking the mans hand eagerly to accept the deal. At least he still had the Faery Treat, and maybe he could collect a few more baking items for Edmund along the rest of his travel. As he left the jewelry shop, he smiled brightly.

"Really? But you always say no!" He exclaimed, his eyes widening with sheer excitement. Roger laughed gently.

"We can try it this one time. We'll see how it goes." Roger permits, wiggling his fingers before setting his hand down on the table. He just needed to stay focused on Jack's body language and movement the whole time to prevent injury. There was no way it was as hard as Bucky made it seem. "How... How do you want me to go about this?" He asked, trying to figure out the best way to start. Usually it was just a tackling match until somebody gave up, which was usually Jack, but Roger wasn't sure that was the best way to go. Jack looked away for a moment, chewing his lip.

"Oh, I know!" He said when he was struck with an idea. "Maybe you can chase me?" He phrased it as a question, and Roger considered it, looking at his fingers. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, bending his fingers experimentally. The calluses left from woodcarving were probably smooth enough that they wouldn't scuff Jack up.

"Sure. I'll give you a headstart." He agreed, his smile widening. He hadn't done anything like this since he was a child playing in his father's garden. His smile faltered slightly at the thought that he hadn't truly changed, as he was still delighted to pretend he was terrorizing a human, but he refocused the moment he caught Jack starting into a run in his peripherals. "3..." He once again flexed his fingers, just to keep them nimble. "2..." A laugh burst from Jack's throat as he glanced back over his shoulder to look for the giant's hand. "1..." Roger tapped the table twice with his index finger, happy to see Jack so happy. "Here I come!" He cheered at a reasonable volume before allowing his fingers to chase the teen across the table. He tried to make them coordinate to almost resemble a spider running, but he was sure they were a little too clumsy for that. He gained on Jack quickly, bent his fingers to allow for some sort of warning before trying to pounce on the boy. Jack tumbled to the tabletop and rolled just underneath his fingers, laughing gleefully.

"Too slow!" He taunted. Roger's smile widened. The words were permission to make the game harder. Clearly Jack was capable of holding his own here, so the giant might as well make the game a little more fun for himself. Surely this wouldn't be a mistake. He began to lessen his focus on Jack's body language, upping how fast his fingers crawled at the boy from across the table. This time when he pounced, one of his fingers clipped Jack's arm as the boy dodged, causing the teen to stumble a little before quickly getting back to running. Roger focused solely on the smile, and the way Jack seemed to favor his arm went unnoticed.

"Not as nimble as you think you are, are you?" Roger teased, not even giving the boy time to rest before charging his hand at him again. This time, Jack had almost no time to try and dodge as the giant's palm slammed into his chest and whacked him forcibly onto the tabletop. The boy's back hit the ground first, knocking the wind out of him. Then his head hit the floor, and black spots danced around the edges of his eyes for a moment or two. Roger laughed lightly, not noticing the way Jack's eyes rolled back for a moment or the way he gasped desperately for air. "How will you get out of this one?" He laughed, leaning closer to the table with the intent to really scare him this time. But he froze the instant he saw Jack's pained expression. His hand came away as though he had touched something hot, before floating back for just a moment. "Jack?" Roger's voice wavered. The teen flinched, and the giant backed away quickly.

"I-I'm okay." Jack said first, rubbing the back of his head and trying to take deeper breaths. "Ow..." He mumbled, and Roger's heart nearly stopped. This was bad. Incredibly bad.

"Where does it hurt?" He asked quickly, impatient to hear an answer. His hands hovered over Jack, waiting for the teen to say something, anything, but he just kept trying to catch his breath and keep himself from flopping over with dizziness. Roger felt his eyes begin to sting, and he quickly worked to try and push the tears back in with the heels of his hands. It wasn't supposed to go this way. He'd never seen Hendrick ever really hurt the boy, and Bucky never seemed to do damage like this either. Sure, Jack would walk away with some sort of bruising, but there was always some sort of strange comradery in it all. Hendrick would help him up at the end, complimenting all the things he had done well. Bucky would offer a reward, usually food or some sort of interesting trinket Jack seemed interested in. But Roger had nothing to make it better. He had nothing to justify the pain Jack had just gone through. A tear escaped from his eye and hit the tabletop. Followed by another, and another, until Roger finally decided to cover his whole face.

"It-It's okay, I-I'm fine." Jack noted, groaning slightly. Roger winced beneath the cover of his hands. He couldn't believe he had let himself act like that, especially after he had assumed he had changed. But no, he had enjoyed every part of it. Had he... Had he enjoyed harming Jack? He jolted up, his chair scraping against the ground loudly.

"I-I'm going to go get Josey." He attempted to flee the scene quickly, trying desperately to wipe the tears away. He couldn't be here right now, not like this. Jack needed someone stable, someone healing, someone-

"Wait!" Jack stood from his spot on the table, wobbling but jogging to reach the edge of the table. He looked scared. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

"Shit, no, no, don't apologize to me!" Roger whipped around quickly, probably too quickly considering Jack flinched back. He pinched his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. He wasn't supposed to curse in front of Jack, he reminded himself. He had already scolded both Hendrick and Bucky for doing so. "Please, no, don't apologize to me!" He had hardly calmed down from before as he approached the table. This was bad, he needed to stop, he needed to leave, he needed to get-! No. What he needed right now was to try and calm down. He took a deep breath, squeezing his hands as he breathed in, and letting go as he breathed out. Looking at Jack's face again, he re-evaluated his guess at the teen's expression. It wasn't fear. It was concern. Concern for him, the man who was supposed to be the responsible adult taking care of him.

"I-I didn't mean to ruin the game, I was having fun, really, I was!" Jack said, voice wavering as he looked away. Roger kept hold of the word the teen had chosen to use. Ruin. It was a sentiment the boy had expressed before. The giant furrowed his eyebrows, exhaling through his nose.

"No, Jack. You didn't ruin anything." He held firm, moving cautiously to sit back down in his chair again. Running away like that never did him any good, even if it felt easier than admitting that he was insecure about this sort of stuff. "I'm the adult. I should know when what's happening is too much for you." Roger explained, watching Jack take a few steps back so he wouldn't have to crane his neck quite as much. He was the one who had to be hyper-aware of every detail, because just a flick of his wrist could end catastrophically for Jack.

"But... you..." Jack took a breath, moving from his wobbly legs to sit down again. He turned his head away from the giant shamefully. "I know sometimes you can't... hear me too well. Or see me too well." He admitted softly, unfortunately proving his own point as Roger needed to think about what might've been said and process it before responding.

"That... is true, but-"

"Then I need to be better about telling you when I'm hurt! Or even just when I'm tired!" Jack interrupted, raising his voice but not to the point of yelling. Roger smiled, appreciating the thought and Jack's passion to make things better.

"That's a good suggestion, Jack." He affirmed the idea first, but he knew that this particular one wouldn't have fixed the situation. "But I think that maybe we just can't mess around the way you do with your uncle." He replied, and Jack frowned.

"But why not?" He asked genuinely, seeming to wilt. Roger's heart ached for the boy, but needed to put his foot down.

"Because it'll only ever end with you being hurt." He was a fool to think otherwise, and he was sure of that now. He was too strong, and yet not strong willed enough to focus and ensure Jack's safety. He cupped his hands around the teens back softly, pushing him forward. "Are you still hurting?" He asked, and Jack looked away guiltily. He didn't answer. Roger's heart sank. "Do you think... you'll need a doctor?" He asked tentatively, almost not wanting to hear the answer. It would mean he had harmed the teen incredibly badly, and he really didn't want that to be the case.

"I dunno." Jack slurred quietly. He was back to mumbling, almost closing himself off from the giant. Roger felt his eyes begin to burn again, and he took a deep breath to try and keep himself from crying again.

"Jack, I... I'm so sorry. I really didn't want to hurt you." He began, then took another breath as he felt his hands begin to tremble. "But I need you to tell me what hurts so I can fix it." Jack seemed to perk up.

"I need to be better about telling you when I'm hurt." He repeated to himself, before continuing. "My... My arm hurts a little, but my head hurts the most. I couldn't breathe for a little bit but I can now." He admitted, rubbing at the spot where Roger's finger had caught on him.

"What part of your head, Jack?" Roger asked, thinking back to what he had done during the roughhousing session. He had practically slammed Jack against the table, that had probably caused the head injury and the temporary trouble with breathing. He furrowed his brows, wishing he really knew just how forceful it felt to the boy.

"The back. My vision was all spots for a little bit but I can see fine now." The boy detailed, rubbing his eyes for a moment. Roger nodded, maneuvering one of his hands in front of Jack. Josey had taught him something a long time ago, some sort of strategy for determining the severity of a head injury, but now he found himself struggling to remember it. Jack reached out in front of himself, leaning forwards until both of his hands were resting against Roger's index finger.

"Are you having trouble getting up?" The giant asked, watching as Jack leaned against him. The boy shook his head. "Do you... want ice or anything?" Again, the boy shook his head before propping it on Roger's finger. The giant sighed gently as Jack stared up at him.

"So... now that you know I'm fine, we can wrestle again, right?" Jack smiled up at him mischievously, cocking his head to the side a little bit. Roger sighed deeply.

"Jack..." He began tiredly, and the boys smile faded away quickly as he leaned back.

“My name is Hendrick, and you two are?” He asked, glancing at the human woman sitting close to the giant. She wore a wedding band, and for a moment Hendrick wondered if the two were married. He convinced himself quickly that there was no way that could possibly be true, as humans and giants were most definitely too different to be together. At least, that’s what he told himself to feel better about leaving Edmund behind.

“Oh, yes, I’m Mabel, and this is my husband, Roger.” The brown haired woman smiled, and Hendrick's eyes widened slightly. So they were married. But how could that be possible? How could Mabel deal with the guilt of being far too small for her partner? How did they navigate it together? How-

“So, you want to take Jack home, you say?” The loud voice of the giant cut off his thoughts. He nodded.

“That won’t be a problem, will it?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the massive man before him. Though Jack had defended the man, that didn’t necessarily mean he deserved it.

“If Jack wants to go with you, he can.” Mabel replied, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Roger’s expression held calm and firm, but his fingers trembled angrily as he tried to clench them. Hendrick turned to look at Jack, but the boy was quick to avert his gaze. Hendrick continued to stare at him, frowning as he spotted something that troubled him.

"He desperately needs a haircut." Hendrick commented. Just being close he could see flecks of dirt and wood in his nephew's hair. It was unfortunate that Jack had also gotten the family curse of incredibly thick hair.

"Well, I can get you a pair of scissors if you want? I didn't want to cut it, I'm not great at cutting paper, much less hair." Mabel offered kindly. Roger glared at Hendrick, who glared back.

"I would be grateful, thank you." He replied, bowing his head slightly with respect. When he looked back up, the black haired giant was still glaring at him. Once Mabel had gone, Roger leaned in closer.

"I don't appreciate you flirting with my wife." He growled lowly, and Hendrick slumped forward, smacking his head with his palm and letting it rest there. Was this man intentionally dense?

"I'm just trying to be polite. Something you seem to know nothing about. I have no interest in pursuing Mabel." He said plainly, feeling extremely tired. Roger narrowed his eyes, keeping his mouth shut though he clearly had more he wanted to say. Jack seemed to wilt, and Hendrick watched as the giant’s eyes flicked away. His massive eyebrows drooped, and he seemed to feel guilt. The knight exhaled through his nose, deciding to drop at least a little bit of his hostility. Though the giant seemed far too unstable to care for his nephew properly, it seemed Jack was still fond of him for some reason. “Jackrabbit,” he began, catching Jack’s attention quickly. The teen’s eyes seemed to sparkle at the nickname, and Hendrick smiled. “How have you been?”

“Um, good. Roger and Mabel have been taking care of me.” Jack replied, his eyes flicking towards the giant. Hendrick followed his gaze, noting the way Roger looked away shamefully. “They got me new clothes.” He said, raising his arms to try and show off the little cloak he was wearing. Hendrick smiled slightly as the teen swayed from side to side to watch it spin a little.  The knight nodded to himself, satisfied with the quality of the garment. He had already gone through parts of Jack’s closet just to be sure when the boy had been distracted. “Oh, and Roger has a garden full of trees that I get to climb!” The teen exclaimed excitedly, and Hendrick’s smile widened.

“I watch him closely, of course. Wouldn’t want him to get hurt.” Roger came in, and Hendrick waved off his concern.

“Nothing wrong with a boy his age getting a few scrapes. Nothing life-ending can really happen in a tree.” Jack seemed to look at Roger, putting his hands on his hips. Clearly this had been a topic of discussion before he had come, and the giant gusted out a sigh above them. “He could be doing a lot worse, you know. Going out into the woods at night with a stick, trying to fight off monsters, for example.” He teased playfully, and Jack’s gaze snapped to him.

“I would never do that!” He huffed, his face flushing with embarrassment. The blonde laughed heartily. 

“Oh yes you would!” He wrapped an arm around Jack, pulling him into a slight squeeze before ruffling his hair a little. “You little lying imp!” He chided, recalling an old nickname he had once called the boy. Hendrick snuck a glimpse of Roger’s face, seeing the disappointment evident in his sagging expression. He pulled away from the boy slightly, not wanting to try and make the giant’s mood worse. While he was absolutely sure that even he could take better care of Jack than this guy, that didn’t mean he would intentionally do things to make him feel awful.

“I'm back! I brought a brush too, thought that might help.” Mabel climbed over the edge of the table with the scissors in her hand. Hendrick bowed his head slightly with gratitude and took them from her. “Roger, honey, we should clear the table.” She suggested to the giant, who sighed at first, before realizing that she had some sort of ulterior motive. Hendrick assumed it had to do with some sort of conversation they needed to have about something. Roger got in one final glare at the knight before allowing his wife to climb into one hand while grabbing his still full plate with the other. Once the two had left, Hendrick felt the tension in his shoulders ease.

“Alright. Jackrabbit, you should sit in front of me.” Hendrick moved to sit, smiling softly. He hoped it hadn't sounded like a command, and his heart sank as he realized just how little he really knew about Jack's original home life. The boy sat anyway, and Hendrick got to brushing out the tangles as best as he could. Silence fell over the pair as the knight tried to figure out what else to say. He could always resort to an old story if worst came to worst, but for now he just wanted to know more about Jack. His eyebrows raised as he got an idea. "Jack, did Beatrice ever braid your hair?"

"Sometimes. When I was little though." Jack noted, keeping his head still even as the brush pulled at a horrid tangle. He winced, a small sound of discomfort coming from his mouth. "Mother always told me it would help keep the twigs and hay out of my hair." Hendrick hummed in agreement, loosening his grip on the brush and trying to be more gentle.

"Are you tender headed?" Hendrick asked, hoping Jack would know what that meant.

"Um, my-my head hurts a lot when I brush it, if that's what you mean." Jack replied, once again wincing when the brush pulled through a particularly nasty knot. Despite the pain, he continued to hold still. "Mother would always yell at me to stay still, so-so I did." 

"She was tender headed too. She used to cry and scream whenever our mother brushed her hair." Hendrick paused for a moment, contemplating if he should mention how their mother would beat her head with the brush when she cried. He remained silent, deciding not to say anything. There was a long beat of silence.

“Can…” Jack drifted off, fiddling with his new pants. Hendrick paused the brushing to look at him. “Can you tell me the adventure stories? Like you did when you used to visit?” Hendrick’s heart soared. 

“Of course I can, Jack.”

----

Once he was able to set his wife down some place safe, Roger allowed his frustrations to leak out.

“Ugh.” He groaned with annoyance. “I hate that guy.” He grumbled to himself. Mabel laughed gently from her place on the kitchen table. 

“He doesn’t seem so bad.” She commented, and Roger shot her an overexaggerated grumpy frown. She giggled at him, and he only frowned deeper. “If he wants to take Jack, he can.” She added, once she had become a little more serious. Roger’s face softened with its sadness.

“I… I want him to stay.” He mumbled. “I want him to choose to stay.” He wanted Jack to be his child, oh how he wanted it. He had caught a glimpse of what could be, and his heart ached at the thought that he may have to let that go. But at the same time, he was practically useless to the boy when it came to anything besides protection or transportation. His gaze drifted over to Mabel, who looked concerned. He sighed softly, his eyes beginning to water. “I thought that, for a moment, I-I really could be his father. But…” He looked off to the side, trying to keep in his tears. He had cried enough in the past few weeks to last him the rest of his life. “But why would he stay when Hendrick can be everything he needs? Sure, I-I know I’m gentle, at least for the most part, but I-I’ll never be able to brush his hair, or help him button his shirts, or-or-” his voice cracked, cutting him off. “I-I’ll never be small enough, I-I… I-I’ll never be… enough for Jack.” Mabel opened her mouth to counter it, but her voice never came out. Instead, she grabbed his finger and squeezed it as tightly as she could until her words returned. 

“You’re enough, Roger, please, please believe me when I say it. I-I love you, so, so much, and I never want you to doubt that you deserve that love.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “You don't have to be small enough, you as you are is enough for me.” Roger raised his free hand to his mouth and clamped down to try and keep himself from sobbing too loud. His fingers twitched as the urge to hold Mabel close to him increased tenfold, though he didn’t act on it. Mabel moved closer. “Honey, it’s okay to-” A whimper escaped his throat, and Mabel cut herself off. Still, he understood what her intended sentiment was, and curled the rest of his fingers around her, offering an extremely gentle squeeze. 

“I love you.” He murmured, uncovering his mouth once he could be sure that he trusted himself. His fingers twitched around her again, and eventually he brought her up to his chest, pressing her into it. He trembled with gentility and hardly contained strength, but tried to remain as still as possible. He took a deep breath, slowly calming himself, before he lifted Mabel up and planted a small kiss on her head. “Thank you, songbird. You… you’re far too kind to me.” He smiled softly, nuzzling her for a brief moment. 

“You’re not hard to love, dear.” She replied, leaning into his touch. Her form was completely relaxed against his fingers, and he pulled back just a little to look at her. “I think you should talk to him. To Hendrick, I mean.” Roger pulled a grumpy, exaggerated frown.

“Mabel…”

“I know you don’t like him, but I don’t think he’s actually awful.” She pushed slightly, giving him a knowing look.

“He was flirting with you!” Roger exclaimed, and Mabel burst out laughing. He narrowed his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?” 

“That wasn’t flirting, Roger!” She continued to laugh, wiping at her face with a hand for a moment. She took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself before she continued. “He’s a knight, he’s taught to have extremely strict manners. He’s supposed to be overly polite, especially in the presence of a lady.” She explained, and Roger thought about it for a moment.

“So… it’s a human thing?” He asked, looking at her to gauge her reaction.

“Yes, dear, I suppose it is just a human thing.” Mabel laughed some more, and Roger couldn’t help but smile. He smothered her with another kiss, just because he could, before finally setting her down again. He sighed one more time to try and get it all out of his system, then rested his hands on his hips.

“Alright, I’ll go talk to him. I think I’ll bring Jack in here first though, just in case things get…” He trailed off, greatly hoping that he wouldn’t have to argue with a human man he just met. He could only imagine what the knight already thought of him, and he did not want to worsen that impression.

“Okay. Good luck, Roger.” Mabel smiled up at him, and he felt a renewed sense of faith in himself as he left the kitchen. Of course, that wouldn’t last very long, quickly being replaced with the bottomless pit of fear when he noticed Jack holding the knight’s sword.

“JACK PUT THAT DOWN!” Roger yelled, lunging forward to try and scoop him up and away from the weapon. Jack yelped as the sword fell to the tabletop, and then yelped louder as he was whisked away from the table. Roger quickly cupped the teen to his chest, shielding him entirely from the blonde man on his table. Once he could be certain Jack was secure, he directed his ire towards Hendrick. “Why would you let him handle that?” He demanded, trying to keep his voice down now that Jack was so close to him. He was sure the teen could hear his heart racing, and he tried to calm down again.

“He was fine, you slamming your hand into him put him in far more danger than he was in!” The man argued back, and Roger was a little shocked at the courage he seemed to present in doing so. In the giant’s experience, humans always backed off when he yelled, but it seemed Hendrick was different. It was a small fact that only worried him more. “I was simply teaching him how to handle a sword without hurting himself, that’s a very important lesson for those of us unfortunate enough to lack your impending stature!” Roger furrowed his eyebrows, gritting his teeth. It felt like an insult directed at him, and he wouldn’t stand for it. 

“Why don’t we handle this like real adults?” The giant suggested through clenched teeth. Hendrick narrowed his eyes before nodding with approval. Roger was quick to remove Jack from the situation and deposit him on the kitchen table. Mabel looked over from her new spot on the counter.

“What happened?” She asked, rushing to the edge with a mixture of worry and confusion on her face. Roger sighed.

“He and I are going to have a talk.” He couldn’t help himself from spitting the word. Jack seemed to tremble before him, and he paused.

“He wasn’t-! He didn’t-!” Jack struggled to defend his uncle. Roger quickly softened, leaning down. 

“I’m not going to harm him at all, okay? We’re just going to talk.” He said gently, a little upset that he needed to still say anything like that at all.

“I-I know.” Jack replied, and Roger’s breath caught in his throat. The teen continued to speak, but Roger didn’t catch any of it. The boy… trusted him? It was a feeling he relished for the time being while he had it, everything inside him softening. It had been the only thing he wanted since the moment he had a chance at Jack being his son. He couldn’t help the proud smile that formed on his face, only for it to disappear once Mabel spoke.

“Dear? Did you catch any of that?” She chided him knowingly, and he flushed red with embarrassment. 

“I apologize, Jack. Could you repeat that for me?” He asked meekly, picking up on the way Jack sort of sagged with annoyance before continuing.

“My uncle’s a good guy, so he’s not, um, a threat or anything.” Roger nodded with understanding, still thinking about the fact that Jack trusted him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He nodded again, mostly to ensure that he actually would since there was no reason to get overprotective. 

He had plucked it up with great care when the night had stilled, then felt it against his skin for a little while, rolling it around in his palm slowly while he debated breaking the rules or not. His hand, opened flat just for the tiny red fruit, drifted closer to his mouth as he considered it. Before he realized, he had tipped his palm just enough to get the little red fruit into his mouth. He closed his lips right after, the little apple dancing on his tongue despite the fact it was smaller than even one of his tastebuds. He had used his tongue to position it in his teeth, the way he had watched his humans eat in the past, before gently biting down on it. It had spurted juice the moment the slightest amount of pressure had been placed on it, and his eyes had opened wider with a joyous sense of pleasure. A mellow sweetness with a hint of tart flavor enveloped his tongue. Its taste was delightful, he realized, as his mouth had watered for the first time in his life. He very much wanted to try another one, having heard that some apples tasted more sour. But he knew that would never be possible, unless somehow someone would offer him one. 

The Stranger was the first to ever give him a gift.

It was likely a bribe of some sort, at least, that had been his initial assumption. But it had seemed almost as though the Stranger was trying to give him something in exchange for the rubles. He truly didn’t mind it, the broken window had been his own fault after all, and there was no harm in giving the new resident some money to get started. There was nothing illegal they could buy here, not with him watching. His gaze flicked back towards the Stranger at the thought that he was supposed to be watching, and he stared at them as they wandered up to the Cashier’s booth. The woman was already rambling on about the danger they posed to her, even as the Stranger desperately tried to explain over her yammering that they meant no harm. The Militsioner rolled his eyes ever so slightly. There was no use in speaking to the woman anyway, he thought to himself, she was much too self centered to be of any use to anyone, no matter how much he wanted her to be. Still he watched the Stranger struggle to even get a word in as she continued to wail about how dangerous they were. Then, he heard the signature hum of the dial tone. She was calling him. Again. His eyelids drooped in annoyance as he resisted the urge to huff at the idea. He watched the Stranger begin to slink away from the booth, seeming to deflate slightly. They wandered towards the stairs to the train, and the Militsioner straightened in place.

“I know you do not have a ticket, but…” he drifted off, voice catching in his throat at the way the Stranger seemed to jump at his voice. He blinked once, trying to brush off the hint of guilt that he felt. “You know you are not allowed to leave.” The Stranger froze in place, clearly hesitating for a minute.

“Yes, I-I know. I gave you my word.” They replied, anxious. The Militsioner blinked once, wondering if the nerves were a result of a lie or if it was just because of… him. He knew he towered over everything conceivable for humans, but no one in town had ever really reacted to him like this before. Natives were apathetic, often ignoring him. The few that weren’t born here often treated him with angry snarls and bitter profanities. He wasn’t used to being… feared. “...how it works here?” As the Militsioner’s thoughts faded, he realized that the Stranger had asked him something.

“Hm?” He raised an eyebrow, a little frustrated with himself that he hadn’t heard them the first time.

“Oh, um, sorry, I probably wasn’t loud enough.” The Stranger muttered to themself, and the Militsioner paused. Of course they had been loud enough. He could probably hear their fluttering heartbeat if he wanted to. His hearing, like any other Militsioner’s, was immaculate and perfect. To insinuate anything less was… “Could you tell me how it works here?” The Militsioner blinked.

“What do you want to know?” He replied, perking up a little. No one had asked him anything like that before. Usually newcomers would already be causing trouble, breaking into homes or cars to try and get their hands on something valuable. But the Stranger hadn’t done that. Yet, at least. He reminded himself again that this was a criminal of the same caliber as the one everyone called the Friend. The two had even appeared to know each other.

“My case… how long does it usually take to resolve?” They asked wobbly, and the Militsioner furrowed his eyebrows. Of course this one wasn’t asking about him or his job, it was the same selfish drabble he heard all the time.

“That depends on what you have done.” He replied, his tone keeping even and monotone. He was back to the script his higher ups had forced him to memorize. Of course, he never really got to know when trials were scheduled, as his first criminal resident had been here for a few years and still had not received any word of a court date. He had always assumed that case was more complicated than it seemed on the surface. 

“What have I been accused of?” The Stranger asked, their voice clear this time. They seemed to have grown some sort of backbone. “I get to know that at least, don’t I?” 

“You do.” The Militsioner replied truthfully. It’s not as though he could ever willingly tell a lie, anyway. “I just do not have your file yet. If I did, I would be sure to tell you.” The Stranger nodded, seeming to think to themself. Their mouth moved as they silently spoke to themself, and briefly the Militsioner wished that he could read their lips. He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all you wanted?” His tone was even despite his annoyance. He would’ve been far more grateful for the interaction if it wasn’t quite so one sided.

“Um,” They took a step closer, glancing towards the ticket booth before lowering their voice. “Is she always that…” they trailed off, clearly looking for the right word.

“Eccentric? Yes, she is.” The Militsioner guessed, based on the hushed tones they chose to speak in. He paused for a moment to stare at them, wondering why a criminal would seemingly care enough about someone’s feelings to try and hide any negative speech. It was an odd thing for someone deserving of this sort of punishment to do, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. “You sort of get used to the screeching eventually.” He added, matching the Stranger’s quieted voice though he knew it wouldn’t do anything to prevent the Cashier from hearing. Of course, she seemed to listen selectively when it came to him, only ever seeming to catch the minor conversation starters he would attempt when his loneliness got too unbearable. 

“Oh, I think I saw a vending machine over there, do you want anything?” The Stranger’s voice caught his attention, and he froze. 

“What?” His mind screamed that this was another form of bribery, but he didn’t want to care about that at all. It seemed another gift was in order, and he greatly wanted to accept. 

“Is that… inappropriate?” They guessed after a moment or two. The Militsioner’s mouth went dry.

“I believe so, yes.” He answered, knowing it was exactly what his boss would want him to say. He hesitated for a moment. “But, I do not mind. It is… thoughtful of you.” He finished truthfully, genuinely appreciating the thought. He furrowed his eyebrows, knowing that this was likely some sort of trick. He reminded himself to be standoffish, like he had done with the other criminals in his town. It was just difficult when the person he was talking to was being so… reasonable. Harder still when he had never truly received kindness before.

“I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, I just… I want to repay you, somehow. But I-I should probably let you get back to work. Sorry.” The Stranger stepped off of the train platform, heading further up into the town. He hadn’t even got the chance to read their expression. The Militsioner blinked, watching them for a minute. So it wasn't bribery after all, at least, it didn't seem that way anymore. There was a possibility, of course, but it seemed much smaller now. The corners of his mouth twitched up, his mood shifting. The wind seemed to pick up around his head, blowing away the clouds. He leaned forward slightly, feeling his lips arc up slightly as they opened.

“I did not mind it.” He admitted, the words all but falling out of his mouth. It almost shocked him that he would say such a thing aloud. The Stranger froze, stiffening, and the Militsioner paused. Right. He was terrifying to this newcomer. It made him feel something akin to disappointment, a gentle ache just behind his eyes that made him want to break from his position. If only to assure them. He was here to protect, that was his job. To protect the innocent, and, well, wasn’t the phrase innocent until proven guilty?

“Really?” The Stranger turned around again, one eyebrow raised and their head tilted slightly to the side in question. An attempt for him to better gauge their expressions most likely, as they seemed to assume he was a big and unobservant man. They broke eye contact the minute they realized they had it, and he could hear them take a breath. “Listen, I-I apologize for making you uncomfortable with my jumpiness. I don’t mean to act like a frightened lamb.” The Militsioner’s eyes widened. An apology? For him?

“I do not mind. This town is my flock, and I the shepherd.” He said, trying to sound assuring. His boss had used the metaphor before. Lambs needed to be culled, and it was his job to figure out who needed that sort of treatment and who didn’t. He could not tolerate disobedience, and he likely would have proved so if it weren’t for the fact the rat man was so slippery. His brows instinctively furrowed at the thought of the man, but he was quick to rid himself of that feeling. He looked back at the Stranger, feeling himself soften at the look of them. “I must admit it is almost…” He froze, trailing off. He couldn’t say that, not to someone he had just met. Clouds cast a shadow over his face, and he quickly tried to bring his train of thought away from his thoughts of self-loathing and misery. He gently cleared his throat, his gaze falling on the Stranger, who just looked confused.

“Almost what?” They asked, their eyes shining with genuine, kind curiosity. He chewed at the inside of his lip, regretting the fact that he could not say much more. He greatly wanted to share his pain with another, but he knew that he would be shunned by his boss if he were ever to display weakness. 

“Almost time for the store to open, of course. You should go. You need a window if I remember correctly?” Of course he knew what they needed, he had been the one to break it in the first place, but it seemed to be the easiest way to avoid a more saddening conversation with the newcomer. 

“Oh, yes, thank you.” The Stranger turned, rushing back into the town. They seemed to ignore the cashier’s high-pitched rambling as they drifted past her, pausing only for a moment. “G’bye!” They called up to him, and the Militsioner felt his heart begin to ache. It was a feeling akin to emptiness, which of course was beside loneliness, which of course, was akin to godliness. Was he really a god among these people?

“Goodbye.” He replied, offering them a small wave though their back was turned to him. He paused for a moment, looking between his index finger and thumb. A large portion of the town seemed to fit between them, at least from his point of view. He stared for a moment, his hand beginning to drift down to his side, where it brushed at the top of a fog he knew loomed high over the docks. He paused again for a moment, slowly squeezing his hands open and closed.

The apple was gone. 

His head tipped down with sorrow, clouds shaping into a strange crown at his hat. He had been given a gift, and now he had lost it without any care at all. It had been so easy to lose track of something so miniscule. Did that make him godlike? The gods were given offerings, were they not? Appeased by fruits and labor and sacrifice. Perhaps all he was to the Stranger was a being to appease. Rain slipped from the clouds, gentle at first, but eventually picking up. Not that the Militsioner really noticed, though. He lifted a hand to his face, pushing at one eye to maybe keep himself from crying. He curled closer in on himself, taking a brief glance at the mountain range he usually rested in. No, it wasn’t time to sleep yet. Sleep. That made him not a god, right? That made him human enough to matter, didn’t it? His eyes drifted towards the spot the Stranger once stood, lingering there for a moment. He wasn’t yet sure of why, but he wanted to connect with this one. Just this once, he wanted somebody to talk to who wasn’t selfish, or doing it just to make him angry.