The Kirkmall

Let's head in to check in on the car.  They didn’t give a time, just a date.

It’s a pretty nice day today, but still cold.  Maybe a bit too early for snow, but in a week or two it wouldn’t be surprising.  Sleeping in a little feels good, but you’re looking forward to getting your car back again.  Like it has been, almost day by day, the crowds seem to have been growing incrementally.

It’s ten in the morning in the middle of the week, and the parking lot at the mall is over half full.

You’re not heading for the mall, though, but for Chargers’.  Their lot is marked off from the rest, a few cars parked.  One of them, happily, appears to be yours.  You hope that means it’s done, and not that it hasn’t been touched yet.  But they have your number, so you’d think if it was going to be late, they’d call you.

You head around the side of the plain, blocky building, and in through the glass front doors with a noisy chime.  The smell of grease and metal hits your nose immediately, but the front office is fairly pristine.  There’s no one up front, just a few chairs, a water cooler, and a television blaring away.

You head up to the front counter, peering in through the open door behind it into the garage beyond.  Loud music is on full blast, and you can hear the clink of tools and sounds of what you think are conversation.  

You’re tempted to poke your head in, but there’s a bell on the counter, and you figure you might as well use it.  Except, when you hit it, it buzzes loudly out in the garage.

Okay, well, that’s probably easier to hear.

“Hang on a second!”  A gruff voice calls.

“Sure, no problem!”  You call back.

It takes a minute or two, but you check your phone for messages and listen to the television blaring.  Sounds like it’s going to be clear weather for the rest of the week, which means it’s going to stay around freezing.

“Hey…” 

You pull your attention away from your phone, and glance up into a friendly, grinning face.  For some reason, you have the feeling this must be the Bull Varric mentioned.  The horns kinda give it away.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up my car.”  You say, glancing over your shoulder towards the doors, “I saw it out in the lot, I’m hoping that’s good news.”

“Yeah…about that…”  He replies, and then chuckles, “For now.  It’s good news…for now.  As in you can drive it and it runs.”

“And then there’s a giant but, isn’t there?”  You sigh, closing your eyes, “How disastrous is it?”

“It’s really not that bad, you don’t have to get all worked up.”  He says, deep voice reassuring but amused, “You need to replace those tires, and you need a new battery.  They’re both pretty important.”

Well, shit.  I’m really on a budget.  What do you recommend?

“I recommend you replace them.  Which will run you about five hundred fifty, six hundred bucks.”  Bull replies flatly, and then grins when you groan in defeat, “Okay, okay.  Listen.  That battery will leave you stranded somewhere praying for a jump.  But it snows, those tires aren’t doing shit for you.  It doesn’t snow, I suppose you could push them for a while.”

You don’t normally go off on a swearing spree, but right now you’re sure feeling like it.  You need your car, for school at the very least.  Spending hours a day commuting between school and work come spring on the bus sounds like torture.

You could do it, but it’d be a real pain.

“And the battery would run me…?”  You sigh, glancing up hopefully and managing a weak smile, “Please tell me there’s like a…pathetic student discount or something?”

“Hey, hey, don’t start the waterworks.”  Bull warns, and then gives a small grunt under his breath, “Enh.  Listen, maybe I could replace it with a reconditioned battery for you instead of a new one, but there’s really nothing I can do about the tires…”

“Nothing?”  You ask hopefully, tilting your head, well aware you’re probably pushing your luck.

But damn it, this was not an expense you needed right now.  And around the holidays, too!  It seems like you’re getting through to him, though, because the frown is turning uncertain as you keep up the big-eyed pathetic hopefulness.

“Well…”

“Chief!”

The shout comes from just beyond the door, followed by the man himself, frowning darkly.  You might be more intimidated if he didn’t have a smear of grease on the end of his nose.  That and the faint smile you beam at him gets rid of the frown almost immediately.

“I didn’t even do anything yet!”  Bull protests, throwing up his hands, “At least wait until I’ve done something to yell at me, Krem!  For fuck’s sake.”

Oh, c’mon, we can trade discounts!  You guys like porn?

“Well, hey…”  

“No.”  Krem interrupts, balling up a fist and punching Bull on the shoulder, “Not happening, Chief.”

Ouch.  Doesn’t look like they pull punches around here.  Then again, they both look like they can take a pretty hard punch.

Krem shoves Bull to the side with his shoulder, and leans down, pulling a pile of papers from under the desk.  

“Don’t bother asking him, he doesn’t know a damn thing.”  Krem confides to you, grabbing a pen, “Usually we try to keep him in the back.”

“You see the kind of shit I have to put up with?”  Bull complains, clapping Krem heavily on the shoulder as he turns for the back, “Give her fifteen!”

“Ten!”  Krem says irritably, and then sighs and crouches down to pull out a calculator, “So he said a reconditioned battery?”

“Yeah.  It’ll still work fine, right?”  You ask, and then add hesitantly, “How long do you think this will add to the pickup time?”

You were really counting on having your car this weekend, but…well, better that than to be stuck in the snow or dead or something, right?

“No warranty, but it’ll do the job.  An hour?  He’s probably already pulling it in.”  Krem replies, and then adds apologetically, hair falling into his face as he glances up, “I can stop the tires, but we can do a payment plan.”

Payment plan.  Okay, whew.  That’s something, at least.  And with a discount, even if it’s just ten percent, that’s way better than nothing.  You’ve got the money for the initial repairs, and you can probably do the first payment now.

Things will be tight, but you’ll live.

“So that was four hundred for the alternator, and then three ninety six for the tires and the battery…”  Krem mutters.

He’s talking to himself, as he writes out the paperwork, which is all that keeps you from interrupting him.  That’s…a lot less than Bull said before.  After a couple seconds, you decide maybe not saying that is the smartest way to go.

Don’t want to jinx it.  It looks like he gave the full fifteen percent off, despite complaining about it.  That was nice of him.  They’ve been pretty damn generous, actually.

Much better than going to some chain.

“We can do a monthly.  Six months work for you?”  Krem asks, glancing up.  “I do all the books, so if you can’t do that we can figure it out.”

I’ve the original four now, and a little bit more.  Six months is more than enough, but I assume it’s okay if I pay it off early?

Four hundred anticipated dollars poorer, and four hundred future dollars left to pay, you officially have a newish battery and four brand new tires.  In…an hour.

Once you’ve signed everything and swiped your card for the first payment, Krem heads into the back again and leaves you to your own devices.  You put your things away and then pull our your phone to check it.  It looks like the time to be back at the shop is eleven thirty or so.  Just enough time to go grocery shopping and then have lunch afterwards.  Not too bad.

It’s really nice of them to finish fixing your car now.

You notice, when you turn on your phone, that you have two new texts waiting for you.  Isabela finally got back to you, and…Carver.  Hm.  What could he want?

We should probably check our messages, and…

Go to the coffee shop and get donuts for the guys here.  They really didn’t have to do this for you, and you can afford it considering how generous they were.

Twenty bucks is a lot cheaper than two hundred, you decide, and you really do want to express your gratitude.  The coffee shop isn’t a long walk, and if it was, there’s one in the opposite direction that’s about equidistant.  It’s hard to be far from a coffee shop in the city.

This one just has a better selection.

You duck inside and breathe in coffee and sugar, waiting in the short line as you fiddle with your phone.  

Oh!  Well, that’s a nice surprise.  You didn’t know Sera and Isabela knew each other.  Or, at least Isabela knows who she is.  Still, you’re a little curious if she was going to invite you or not.  Probably too late to ask now.

You open Carver’s message, but then you’re up at the counter, and the girl behind it is staring at you expectantly.  You put away your phone, fishing out your wallet as you turn your attention up to the sign.

“I’ll get two dozen, mixed.”  You order, and then turn your attention towards the drinks.

A little caffeine would probably be nice.

And a coffee.  Black.

Sure you’re saving money, but hey, a black coffee’s like a buck and a half, and it does a whole lot of good.  You head over to the register after confirming her donut picks, and pay for the lot.  All in all, a fairly painless transaction.  While you’re waiting for her to box them up, you check the message for Carver.

Ah, okay, that makes sense.  He doesn’t know what to get Bethany for the holiday, and wants some help.  That’s pretty sweet of him.

You’ll answer him soon, because there’s two boxes and a cup waiting for you now.  

Tucking your phone back away, you pick up the boxes with one hand, bracing them against your shoulder, and grab the coffee with the other.  Thankfully it’s not a long walk.

There’s no one at the counter when you head back into the shop, fingertips stinging from a couple spilled drops of coffee.  The boxes slide from your arm onto the counter, and you hit the buzzer again.

“Hang on, I’m coming, I’m…”  You hear Bull call, stopped as he walks through the door and shifts his attention down to you.

“I got donuts.  To say thank you.”  You explain.

“Well, hey, thanks.  Guys will really appreciate it.”  Bull says.

The discount’s will be waiting for you if you want it.  Don’t worry, I won’t tell Krem.

“Thanks.  Appreciate that.”  Bull says, a little bit hesitantly, “But…you work at Kitty’s place?  Across the street.  Or some other place?”

“Yep.”  You say, pulling the lid off of your coffee and blowing across from it.

“Yeah…she kinda creeps me out.”  Bull admits, grinning when you laugh in surprise, “I’m not saying no, just saying I probably won’t come by while she’s there.”

“Creeps you out?”  You ask, still laughing, “Really?”

“Hah!  Let’s just say she’s…something else.”  He says dryly, flipping open one of the boxes and examining the contents, “Anything more might be too incriminating.”

“Well, I can agree with you on that.”  You say, taking a tentative sip of your coffee, “But she treats us pretty well.”

“Yeah, because she doesn’t want in your pants.”  He says dryly, picking out a jelly donut.  “Trust me, that’s for the best.”

You feel your phone buzz, but leave it where it is, at least for now.  Probably just Carver again, he can be kind of impatient.  You’ll get back to him when you have a chance.

I need a way to let you know she’s not around, y’know.  Hint hint.

“Pretty sure she doesn’t work close.”  Bull replies, so blandly that you’re not sure if he actually got what you were going for or not, “You don’t want to know how I know that.”

Damn.  Well, hey, it was worth a shot, right?  It seems like it went right over his head…maybe.  You really didn’t think you were being that subtle.  If his was a hint right back, you might as well take it.  No point being rude.

“I don’t either.  I mean, close is midnight, and she doesn’t feel comfortable with that.”  You say, taking another sip of your coffee, listening to the symphony of noise coming from the garage.

“Yeah?  I wouldn’t figure she cared that much.  Good on her, I guess.”

“I didn’t expect it myself, but she’s decent about it.”  You say, musingly, “And the lady who works next door keeps an eye on us…it’s actually pretty nice.  I work late Thursday and Friday, and I’ve been annoyed and creeped on, but never actually felt in any danger.”

Which is true, but also…bear mace under the counter goes a long way towards making you feel safe.  And Tor, the guy who closes might be lazy as hell, but he’s huge.  Nobody really causes any trouble with Tor around.

“You can’t ask for better than that, really.”  Bull says, glancing over his shoulder towards the garage, “I’ll take these back for the guys and check on your car.  Shouldn’t be too long.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”  You say, and then finally reach for your phone as he heads into the back.

Huh.  The other text wasn’t from Carver, but from a number you don’t recognize.  Weird.  Might be a wrong number?

Check this mystery text.

Oh whew.  You already know it must be, as you have both of the twins’ numbers.  The text you receive only confirms it, and you quickly get the rest of the information afterwards.  It seems they’re getting together next weekend.  You haven’t exactly decided to crash what sounds like a family get-together, but you at least can confirm you’ve gotten the information.

Yet again, you’re struck by how nice it is of Bethany to just invite you like that.

With that settled, you open the text from Carver again and start responding.

So, one Hawke asking for a favor, one Hawke doing you a favor.  That family is kind of all over the place, aren’t they?  But hey, if you’re stuck here for a holiday alone, they kind of seem like they’ll welcome you in.  That’s nice.

The rest of your time passes pretty quickly, and before you know it, your car is ready to be picked up.  Unexpected repairs aside, that went pretty well.

Hardware store, and then grocery shopping.

You haven’t had an answer from Mr. Blackwall, but the hardware store is right there, and you can always show him the pictures on your phone if you need to.  It doesn’t necessarily mean he hasn’t checked the email, he didn’t seem super comfortable with technology.  Again, as you approach the store, you’re struck by just how pretty the handmade furniture out front is.

Not fancy, but simply graceful and polished silky smooth until it’s gleaming, the uncovered grain of the wood used shown to its best advantage.  

The front door opens under your shoulder as you slip in, still musing over Hawke’s message.  Would it be strange to intrude on a family celebration?  Bethany did invite you, and Hawke didn’t seem like they were upset by it.  You’ll have to figure out if you want to go soon- no point in making them wait for an answer.

When you enter, Blackwall is standing in the middle of the floor with his back to you, hands on his hips.  When the door shuts he glances over his shoulder at you, brow furrowed deeply.

“Something wrong?”  You ask.

He gives a heavy sigh, and then turns back again.  You notice there’s a cardboard box at his feet as you approach.  Oh.  Holiday decorations.  Not a lot of them.

“Don’t really see the point in decorating the store.”  He says, tilting his chin up to stare at the ceiling, “Miss Josephine and Leliana brought by some things, but it’s not as if people come here to do holiday shopping, is it?”

Leliana!  You met her, and that’s right, you remember she knows the mysterious Miss Josephine from the chocolate shop.  

“Not really a problem that deserves this amount of contemplation, is it?”  You tease, and he gives a small gruff laugh, dark frown easing, “I think people just like seeing holiday things around.  You could just decorate the front counter, not the whole store?”

“Now why didn’t I think of that?”  He asks, the last of the frown disappearing, “I didn’t want to disappoint the young ladies, but I didn’t quite know what to do with it all.”

I don’t know.  Did you make that furniture out front?  If so, I’d say you have a good eye.

“I did.”  He says, acknowledging it with a nod, “And that’s kind of you to say.  Just a hobby, but I sell a piece every now and again.”

He bends down to pick up the cardboard box, and then turns for the front counter.  You trail after him, considering that thoughtfully.

“It might be just a hobby, but it really is beautiful.  Just sticking it out front of the door can’t get you many sales, though.”  You say, pausing in front of the counter as he steps around it.  “You could put it on your website, couldn’t you?  Or make one just for your woodworking?”

“You sound like Miss Josephine.”  He accuses, humor in his voice, “Seems a bit too complicated for my taste.  I appreciate the faith in my abilities.”

“I don’t know that it’s faith, I have seen it for myself.”  You point out.

“That’s a fair point.”  He says with a nod, setting the box down on the counter.  “Now.  Have you got yourself a hair dryer at home?”

Okay, well, that wasn’t exactly the question you were expecting, now was it?

Why, looking to borrow it?

“What?”  He asks blankly, and then laughs after a couple of seconds of silence pass, “Oh!  No, no.  For your floor.”

“For…my floor.”  You repeat slowly.

“It helps peel up the linoleum without damaging it.  You warm it up and it’ll pull back easier.”  He explains, still chuckling a bit, “Looks like your subfloor is doing all right, should be able to glue it back down.”

“And that’s cheap?”  You ask hopefully, with a faint smile, “Because I just had to buy a new battery and four new tires on top of replacing my alternator, and I’m running kind of low.”

Maybe kind of bad to bring it up, but heck, you got fifteen percent off at the mechanic.  Might as well use the sob story in the hopes of saving a bit.

“New tires?  You are having a rough time of it, aren’t you?”  He asks, giving a slow shake of his head, “It won’t cost you too much.  You’re going to need to clean up the linoleum and subfloor, spread that adhesive, and then weight it down for a while.”

“That’s it?”  You ask, relieved.  That doesn’t sound too bad at all.

“That’s about it, if you’ve got a rolling pin or something, roll it along to make sure there’s no bubbles or extra adhesive.  Make sure you weight it good, though, or that edge is going to curl right back up.”  He says, lecturing gruffly.  “But if you have any more problems, you should probably call your landlord.”

“Okay, okay.”  You sigh, grinning as his eyebrows lower.  “I probably won’t try to fix the plumbing or anything.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”  He says dryly.

I’m independent, but not that dumb.  Fixing flooring’s different than flooding an apartment.

“Sensible.”  Blackwall declares, pulling a bag out from under the counter.  “Now, you’ve got everything you need right here.”

“Wow, you were all prepared for me.”  You say, examining the small tub he pulls out of the bag, “So that’s the glue?”

“Adhesive, yes.  You just spread it on with this putty knife here.  Like I said before, weight it well and it should stay down.”  He says, pulling out a long, thin metal implement.

You suppose it sort of looks like a knife.  Well, one more thing for your toolbox.  Or at least your junk drawer.

“Sounds pretty simple.”  You confirm, nodding as he puts them away, “Is there anything else I should be looking for, or…”

“I suppose that depends.  Getting pretty cold out there.  How do your windows do at keeping in heat?”  He asks, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he reaches up to scratch his bearded jaw.  “If it’s an older building, you might need some weather stripping.  You notice a draft, it might save you some money on heat in the long run.”

“I’ll check.  Couldn’t hurt, right?”  You say, fishing out your card.

“Couldn’t hurt.”  Blackwall agrees.

Let’s pay and say goodbye so we can hit the grocery store.

Continuing today’s theme of being disgustingly responsible and adult, you pay the surprisingly small bill and express your appreciation before heading off.  He really is a helpful guy.  And not condescending about it, which is really nice.

Then, you get in your car.

The bus will always be there for you, when you’re drunk, or when you don’t want to waste the gas, but now you have your vehicle again.  And, when you turn the key, the engine turns over right away instead of taking its sweet time.  You assume that’s what the new battery was all about.

Bidding farewell to mall and bus, you head to the grocery store near your house.  Getting this all out of the way now means you’ll be able to do whatever you want this weekend.

It’s not super busy, it’s noon on a Wednesday after all.  You join the moms and dads, and a few elderly people in their shopping.  By now the holiday music’s so omnipresent that you find yourself humming along with it.

The grocery store is mid-sized, but urban enough that there’s a decent selection of pre-made food and upscale nibbles.  They also sell wine and beer, but no liquor.

You get paid on Friday, and you have about 300 available in your account right now, not counting the rent you need to pay tomorrow.  The first chunk of car repairs came out of your savings, which is severely depleted after paying first and last on your apartment, and moving here to the city.  

That three hundred bucks is about all you’ve got.

Super cheap, but we know how to cook.  Dry rice and beans, some bulk protein, frozen veggies, eggs, things like that.  It takes longer to make, but we can feed ourselves for a month with the occasional extra grocery visit.  (-75$)

Skipping the pizza and sodium flavored noodles, you go for the stuff that’s going to last you a while.  Splurging a bit on spices means it’ll still taste good, and your pots and pans you forced yourself to lug along won’t sit forlornly in your cabinets.

It’s a bigger amount of groceries, so after you pay, you take the cart with you back to the car.  It’s nice to have this all out of the way- it’s only noon and you’ve already accomplished everything you set out to do.  A wide open second half of the week awaits you.

Well, apart from the floor repairs.

Feeling pleased with yourself, you unload the groceries and slam the trunk of your car closed, turning to return the cart to the front of the store.  Still humming the last holiday song you heard inside, you don’t notice something has gotten caught under the wheels of your cart until you try to push it up the curb and it sticks.

Blinking, you pull back and realize a mangled cardboard box has gotten all twisted up.  It’s wet and falling apart, but you manage to tug it free with a little work.  It looks like just some discarded trash, but when you shake it out, you realize at some point someone had written ‘Free Kittens’ on the front of it.

Okay, that’s shitty.  Leaving kittens in a grocery store parking lot?  Hopefully someone grabbed them, because this sure isn’t a safe place for animals.

What the hell?  What kind of asshole leaves animals out in the cold?  Quick, we’d better start looking!

In a bit of a panic, apparently, you still maintain the sense to ask an employee that steps outside if they’ve seen anything.  They just shrug at you, and go back to gathering up carts.

Okay, well, it looks like it’s up to you.

You start hunting at the front of the grocery store, and the parking lot.  Checking under carts, peering into grates.  Your hands and knees are a bit dirty and damp, and some people look at you like you’re crazy, but you find nothing.  

Ten minutes or so of hunting the parking lot, and you’re almost certain there’s no kittens there to be found.  You head back towards the store, and duck down the alley next to it.  It looks to lead into the small back lot and delivery area, just wide enough for the garbage truck that probably comes for the massive dumpsters at the end of the alley.  There’s lots of junk back here, piles of plastic pallets, boxes flattened and bound up.

Broken glass and gravel crunches underfoot as you explore, noisy enough that when you first hear the noise, you have to stop stock-still to make sure you did.  You wait, practically holding your breath, for maybe thirty full seconds.

At last, you hear a tiny, pathetic little ‘mew’.

It’s coming from your left, and heedless of the yuck and muddy water, you crouch down and peer into the gap under a pile of boxes.  Your phone makes a decent flashlight, and you fish it out and turn it on.

The light reflects off of a pair of eyes staring at you from the dark, a little bedraggled kitten so dirty that you can’t quite tell what color it is.  At first you think it’s alone, then you realize the little heap lying on the ground is another one.

Your heart almost plummets, but then you realize the second kitten is breathing, but faintly.

Get them, and keep looking!

The more alert kitten seems unwilling to come with you, and you end up with tiny needle-sharp claw gouges in your hand as you fish it out.  Once you’ve zipped up your jacket and tucked it in the front, however, it settles into the warmth tiredly.  It’s awkward, but you manage somehow.

They’re bigger than they seemed, eyes somewhere between gold and blue.  At least they’re not itty bitty little things.  The second one seems listless when you scoop it out, but it opens its eyes and gives a faint little mewp.  You can’t see any injuries, but it’s shivering when you tuck it in next to its sibling, cradling an arm under them.

That only leaves you with one arm free, but you’re not done hunting yet.  You don’t find anything as you awkwardly search the rest of the alley, which takes about another ten minutes.  As you’re coming around to the dumpsters, you hear voices in the back lot.  Poking your head out, you realize you’re not the only one that’s been searching.  There’s a man and a woman looking under the employee cars.

“I found two of them.”  You call, and they both glance up and over at you, “You’re looking for the kittens?”

“We found three, I took them home, but someone was fussing about coming back to look.”  The woman says, approaching you, “You found two more?  That’s good, then, that’s probably all of them.”

As she approaches, you realize the faint, faded lines on her face are Vallaslin.  She must be Dalish, then.  The man follows, after one last glance under a car, his rather ugly knitted hat horribly askew.

“I…you’re probably right.”  He says, and then turns his attention to you, “Are they all right?”

“I think so?  One of them’s a little rough.”  You say uncertainly, unzipping your jacket a little, the more active kitten’s dirty nose poking out.

“I’m Ariane.  That…mess is Finn.”  The woman greets, leaning in a little to peek into your jacket, “Yes, they look like the same litter.  That’s good, then.  Do you want us to take them for you?  I’ve already bought food.”

“More?  You’ve got to be kitten me!”  Finn jokes weakly, his hopeful smile fading as you both look at him, Ariane rolling her eyes.  “No?  Well…never mind.”

I was going to take them home.  Do you think they’ll be okay?  Do you think I need to take them to the vet?

“They haven’t been out for long.  I didn’t see any fleas.  Let me see.”  Ariane says, extending her hands expectantly.

You carefully fish the kitten out of the front of your jacket, while trying to corral the other one.  It’s still shivering a little, but you think you can almost hear it purring.  Ariane deftly takes it from you, scratching behind its ears as she examines it.  

“Hungry and cold, but it doesn’t look injured.”  She says, sounding quite sure of herself, “Finn, do you have that jar of food?”

“Give me a moment.”  He says, in the middle of wiping his hands on a handkerchief.

Yeah, that’s an actual cloth handkerchief.  Huh.  You weren’t aware people still used those things.  When he catches both of you watching, he clears his throat and flushes, shoving it away in his pocket.

“It’s dirty outside.”  He mutters under his breath, fishing out a jar of what looks like baby food out of his other pocket, offering it over.

“Open it.”  Ariane orders impatiently.

While he unscrews the jar’s lid, you try to wrangle the other kitten.  While still filthy, it’s warm enough now to start getting squirmy again.  Right now it’s trying to climb up your shoulder, purring far louder than an animal so small should be capable of.

Casually, Ariane dunks her fingers into the jar while Finn cringes, and then offers them to the listless kitten.  After a few seconds, it finally starts licking off the grayish goop.

“It will be fine.”  She assures you, and then turns the kitten over slightly and corrects herself, “She.  You’ll have to get them fixed, but I don’t think they need the vet now.  They’re old enough to eat.  Better for them to go to the shelter now while they’re small, though.  Are you sure you want to keep them?  It is better to have a pair.”

Yep.  I have cats now.

Finn seems eager to leave, but he just fidgets and blusters while Ariane methodically informs you of what you need.  The kitten she’s holding seems to be perking up, happily slurping what turns out to be chicken baby food.  So you were right about the jar.  Meat goop.

It’s not the grossest thing you’ve ever stuck your fingers in, and it makes the more fidgety of the duo settle down.  His (it is a boy) tongue is rough against your fingers as he licks away, rumbling way too loud for such a little creature.

“Baths, you’re going to want to be extra careful with.  Only when you absolutely have to, wipes are far better.”  Ariane instructs, passing you over the other kitten, and then screwing the lid on the jar, “But they probably need one.  The shop at the mall is decent.  Just ask, they’ll help you find what you need.”

“I swear, I spend more time going to that place…”  You say, juggling both kittens a little awkwardly.  Luckily, the girl seems to just want to curl back up in your jacket.  “Okay.  Be careful with the baths, keep them warm, get kitten food.”

“And get them fixed!”  Ariane says imperiously, “When they’re old enough.”

“Got it.”  You say, firmly.

It can’t be that expensive, right?  The supplies might set you back a little, but you do get paid on Friday.  You’ll be fine.

You say goodbye to Ariane and Finn, who can’t seem to get into their car fast enough, though he does get you the box they brought in case they found more kittens.  Good.  Driving with cats in your jacket would probably be a dumb idea.  

There’s an old, worn towel in the bottom of it, but you take off your jacket and tuck it in there too after emptying your pockets.  It’s already dirty, and they seem to like it.  The box fits neatly on the floor in front of your passenger seat, and you find out that the rambunctious one is also the noisy one.

While he exercises his lungs to tell you how much he does not like being confined to a box, you buckle up and consider your options.

Get groceries put away, and then text Cole and see if they can help.

You bring in the kittens first and get them settled, once you get home.  The grocery unload doesn’t take long, but by the time you’ve gotten it all put away, the little boy has discovered that your bathroom door doesn’t latch, and you have to rescue him from under your sagging couch.

His claws are still very sharp.  Ouch.

You make a mental note to do the door repairs later, put in the new knob.  Just buying a new one doesn’t quite do the job.  Luckily, a shoe under the door keeps it in place while you fish out your phone and text Cole.

While you wait for his messages, you do some kitten-care googling.

Well, that’s easier than having to worry and freak out about washing the cats yourself.  The internet is also adamantly against people shampoo for animals, so you’d have to buy that anyways.

Did the pet store have a groomers?  You don’t actually remember, you’ve never been inside.

Replacing your dirty jacket and the worn out towel with a small blanket you don’t mind getting a little messed, you replace the kittens in their cardboard prison.

“Sorry, little guy.”  You tell the protesting little boy.  

Okay, maybe you take him out for a cuddle, because he’s tiny and pathetic, and your shirt is already pretty dirty.  He’s much happier on your shoulder as you head back for the car, but you’re not going to drive with a kitten climbing all over you, so back in the box he goes. 

And back to the mall you go.

It’s an unexpected trip, but hey, at least you’ve got the time, right?

When you arrive, people are starting to fill the lot a bit more.  Holiday shopping.  You get a look or two as you head in with your box, both of them now starting to make some noise.  The little girl seems to have somehow gotten a nap even with her brother stomping all over her, and she’s starting to explore, too.

That’s a relief.  She was so quiet that you were a little worried.

For once you park around the back side of the mall, instead of over by the theater.  The pet store’s pretty close to Freddy Fennic’s.  Probably to drag in the kids on their way to go play arcade games.  It has an entrance off of the parking lot itself, the neon sign bright.

Barktown.

Terrible pun aside, it looks like a nice store.  Nice enough that you’re worried that you can’t just waltz in with a box of dirty cats.  Can you?

Let’s wait outside and text Cole.  This is kind of awkward.

Lurking just to the left of the entrance of the pet store, you send a quick text to Cole to let him know you’ve arrived.  And then you immediately pick up the box again, before a curious passing child can stick their hand in.  

The last thing you want is a parent shouting at you because their kid stuck their hand in the kitten shredder.

You feel a buzz in your pocket, but it proves unnecessary to check as Cole comes wandering outside, staring at his phone.

“Hey!”  You greet, and then grin as he glances up, looking almost surprised to see you, “Sorry, I didn’t know if it was okay to bring them inside.”

“It will be all right.”  He assures you, moving over and peeking into the box as you lower it a little.  “They are…bigger than I thought.”

“I found them in an alley next to the grocery store.”  You explain, following him as he goes to get the door for you.  “Thank you.  I take it that it’s a good thing they’re bigger?”

“Yes.”  Cole confirms, leading you into the store.

It’s quieter than expected, but it doesn’t look like they have any adoptable bigger animals here.  You’d assume anyone looking for a Satinalia present is going for puppies and kittens, not lizards and fish.  There’s not many employees, you assume that mostly teenagers work here, and the high school is still in session.  

Cole leads you along an aisle of pet beds, the irritable complaints of the noisy kitten following you.  

“He has a lot to say!”  Cole remarks, as you both round the corner and head for the ‘pet salon’ section of the store, as they call it.  “That’s good, too.”

“It’s the other one I was worried about, but I think maybe she just needs some food and rest.”  You say, and then startle when a voice speaks up from behind you.

“It depends on how long they were left outside.”  

Trying not to jump out of your skin, you turn and stare down an abruptly embarrassed-looking man.  He’s rather tall and lanky, hair pulled back into a short ponytail, and the look of slight shame only deepens as you glare at him.

“I could have dropped the cats.”  You inform him, and he lifts his hands defensively.  “Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

“In retrospect, not a good idea, I agree.  Sorry about that.”  He says, and then peers down into the box in your hands, “They are filthy, aren’t they.  Bastards.”

“I’m assuming you mean the people who left them out there, not the kittens.”  You say.

“Yes.  Though, in all fairness, I doubt the cats know who their father is.”  He says, and then glances up and over your shoulder, “Hello, Cole.”

“Hello, Anders.”  Cole greets in return.

Can you give them a bath?  I just dug them out of an alley and I really can’t afford anything fancy, but I want to make sure they’re well taken care of.  It’s a very sad story.  The kittens are very sad.  Look at them.  Sad kittens.

“Absolutely devastated.  These may be the saddest kittens I have ever seen.”  Anders agrees, grinning faintly,

“They are?”  Cole asks curiously, looking a bit lost.

“No.  She’s trying to play on my sympathies in order to get something from me.”  Anders says, surprisingly blunt but still cheerful as he turns to face Cole, “Luckily, I’m a complete sucker, and it works.”

“People are more likely to help if they feel sympathy.”  Cole muses under his breath, “It would have been very sad, though, if they were still lost.”

“Well, hopefully the people that found the other three would have found them…”  You say, following as Anders walks past you and continues toward the salon, “But I don’t know.  She was pretty cold.”

“I’ll be careful with her, then.”  Anders promises you, and then holds out his hands for the box.  “Pass them over.  I promise, I know what I’m doing.”

For a second, you clutch the box a little tighter.  In the end, though, you give in and give them both one last scratch behind the ears before handing off the box.

“You’re going to need a carrier.  One of the little collapsible ones should be enough, if money’s tight.”  Anders instructs you, and then pushes through the door.

It says employees only.  Well, that’s no fair.

“There’s windows to watch.”  Cole invites, apparently noticing your slight distress.

Yeah, let’s watch.  Not that I’m nervous at all or anything…

Thankful for Cole’s understanding, you head over to the windows and peer through. At first you can’t see much, just Anders’ back as he fetches them out.  He does seem to know what he’s doing, he checks them both over thoroughly before heading to the sink.  

When he notices you watching, he sets down the squirming kittens and offers you a reassuring thumbs up.  

“Thank you again for helping me with this.”  You say to Cole, who is watching the process intently.  “It’s really nice of you.”

“I wanted to see the kittens.”  He admits to you with a smile, “I am glad it makes you happy, too.”

“I guess I’ll have to think of a name, if I want to keep them.”  You muse, gazing through the window.  “Oh jeez, I didn’t think he was going to do them both at the same time!”

“He is on his break, he said he has to do it quickly.”  Cole says, “Sometimes Anders gets in trouble, I don’t think he wanted to.”

“Wait…he’s not supposed to be doing this?”  You ask a little nervously, glancing back again.

“He does a lot of things he isn’t supposed to do.”  Cole says, seeming completely calm still, “He says it’s how he fights back against the corporate machine.”

Oookay.  Well.  Let’s hope he doesn’t decide to protest the corporate overlords while washing your cats.  Or…maybe washing your cats is protesting the corporate overlords?

“Oh!  He’s orange!”  Cole says, dragging your attention back to where the kittens are finally getting their bath.

The boy is…yep, under the grime, orange and faintly striped.  The girl isn’t white, like you thought, but black and orange, too.  A calico.  The grime and dirt swirls down the drain as you watch them getting rinsed off, fur sticking up oddly in little clumps.

Poor little things look even more pathetic wet, all tiny and scrawny, mouths open as they mew in protest.

So ah…how’s Solas doing?

It’s a good thing Cole doesn’t pick up on subtext that easily, because you’re about as subtle as a kick to the face.  

“He’s not happy.”  Cole says, watching with apparent fascination as the kittens are rinsed off and then taken to be dried.

“He’s…not?  Is something wrong?  Are people being jerks again?”  You ask, wandering down a little to follow as Anders moves.

Maybe he’s having second thoughts about Friday?  No, of course not, don’t be dumb.  Not everything is about you.

“I don’t know.”  Cole says, a bit vaguely, “I wanted to help, but he said to leave it alone.”

“I ah…hm.”  You say, a bit awkwardly, deciding to change the subject instead of pushing it, “Are you excited for the holiday?”

“Yes.”  Cole confirms, brightening a little as he glances back towards you, “They’re going to have a party.  Here, at the mall.”

“I think I heard about that.”  You say, smiling right back, “It sounds like fun.”

You’re about to say more, but then the employees only-marked door opens, Anders poking his head out.

“Is the coast clear?”  He asks.

You look over your shoulder uncertainly, and then glance back and shrug.  He sighs, pushing out of the door the rest of the way.  Without your box, you notice, though he passes you back the blanket at least.  You tuck it away.

“Here.”  He says a bit imperiously, passing you the little calico girl.  Cleaner, she seems a lot happier, rumbling away as you tuck her against your chest, her little claws pricking through your shirt.

Cole is handed the other one, and stares down at it as it mews loudly at him and tries to climb up to his shoulder.

“Let’s get you your things, before the manager shows up.”  Anders says, and then starts off up an aisle, leaving you and Cole to catch up.

Now is the time to keep our mouth shut, and just go along with it.

Keeping quiet, you and Cole trail after Anders.  Not that it’s silent, Anders starts lecturing as soon as you make your way through the doggy beds to the cat supplies.  Most of it’s just common-sense stuff, don’t let them play with stuff they can swallow, don’t keep house plants around them unless you’ve checked them…but he seems to know a lot about cats.

At first you’re nervous about letting him pick out things, but he’s obviously being careful.  The first thing he does is pick out a little carrier for you, ripping off the tag and shoving it in his pocket.  That’s a relief.  It’s much easier to handle the kittens with them safely contained, even if they’re now both complaining.

Before long, you find yourself with most of the basics, including food and a thing of litter that makes you grateful you don’t live up more than a couple flights of stairs.  None of it’s that expensive, but you notice once or twice he doesn’t go for the cheapest thing, which makes you cringe just a little.

Still, you trust that he knows what he’s doing, and you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Cole is apparently happy to follow along and carry, but you can’t imagine he has that much break time left.

Finally, with what you know is just the basics, but what feels like a massive amount of stuff, Anders heads for the checkout.

“Like I said, make sure the food and water are kept separate.  You’ll have to watch how they eat, some cats are all right with food being left out, some gorge themselves.”  He says, and then adds as he drops his armload of stuff on the counter and steps around it, “You’re being pretty quiet.  Not scared you off, I hope?”

“No!  Just…listening.  It’s sort of overwhelming.”  You say, setting down the small litter tray you were carrying, “I was not expecting my day to go like this.”

“Most people wouldn’t have even cared.  That’s the problem with people.  It’s easier just to keep walking.”  Anders says, faintly bitter.

You’re starting to understand why he and Cole are friends.

I agree.  It’s really unfortunate, that’s why I try to do what I can.

“If only more people thought like that.”  Anders says, voice getting a little heated, “Sadly, they don’t.  Not unless it will score them points, of course.  Don’t get me wrong, public displays are good, but not when they end… ”

It sounds like he’s starting to get wound up a little, but luckily Cole quietly interrupts.

“I have to go back to work soon.”

“Right, sorry.”  Anders says with a shake of his head, and then glances at you, “I told him to interrupt me if I get rambling.”

“If you need to get back, it’s all right.”  You tell Cole, after a smile to Anders, “Thank you so much for your help.”

“I have thirty minutes, it’s been twenty five.”  Cole tells you, “And I have to walk back.”

“Sure, no problem.  Thank you again.  I owe you!”

“You’re welcome.”  Cole says, and then lifts a hand as he steps back.  “Goodbye, Anders.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Anders replies, and then turns his attention back to you.  “Eighty nine fifty.”

“Could be worse.”  You murmur ruefully, pulling out your card yet again after setting down the carrier and its noisy occupants.  “Now I just have to find a decent place to get them fixed.”

“I’d wait about a month.  And get their shots, too.”  Anders replies, taking your card and swiping it, “I know of some decent places, I can help you, if you’d like.”

“Thanks, that’s nice of you.”  You say absent-mindedly, signing your name on the receipt.

He did give you a discount.  It’s funny how often that happens when you take the time to ask.  And no one’s even thrown you out yet!  He also didn’t charge you for the bath, which makes sense if he wasn’t supposed to be doing it.

“Happy to help someone bothering to do the right thing.”  Anders replies, cheerful voice sounding the slightest bit forced.  

When you glance up from putting your card away and take the reciept, you realize he’s written what you assume is his number on it.

Oh.

If I had known all it took to get a cute guy’s number was cats, I would have gotten one ages ago.

“You’ve opened up an entire world of dirty jokes with that statement, you do know that, don’t you?”  Anders asks, relaxed again.

“I’d be disappointed if I hadn’t!”  You tease back, folding up the receipt and tucking it into your pocket.  

“Luckily, I’m too much of a gentleman to make them.”  Anders says, returning your smile.

“And suggesting them is okay?”  You ask, and then jokingly add at his shrug,  “Uh huh, right.”

You take a second and survey your purchases.  This is going to take a couple trips.  You start with the bags, though, loading up your arms, but keeping your hands free.

You don’t want to leave the kittens behind, after all.

“I’ve got it.”  Anders says when you reach for the bag of litter uncertainly, waving your hand away.  “This part is actually what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, the kittens thank you.  I’m sure they didn’t like being dirty.”  You say, lifting the carrier to peek in at them.  Luckily no accidents yet.

They’re still complaining, and continue to complain as you get them out to your car and tuck them in the back seat.  They’re secure, this time you don’t have to have them next to you in case of escapes.  

Anders helps you load up the bags of food and litter, and the other bigger items, but doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get back inside just yet.

Maybe a little more small talk?

“So, have you known Cole for long?”  You ask, closing up the back of your car with an emphatic slam.

“A little less than a year, I think.  I’m glad to see he’s making other friends.”  Anders says, and then hesitates a little, words more careful, “He has a little difficulty at times.”

“I like him,”  You reassure, smiling, “just the way he is.”

“Right.  You seem like a very sweet person.”  Anders says, reaching up and raking back some of his hair as it slips free.

“I don’t know about that.  I try to be a decent one, at least…”  You say, and then joke, “Maybe it’s just the contrast from all the asshole you apparently run into that makes it seem that way.”

His face darkens for a second, but at least it doesn’t seem to be aimed at you.  When you tilt your head slightly, he blinks, and it fades.  When you smile quizzically, he doesn’t return it.

“It’s nothing.”  He says, and then glances over his shoulder at the shop, “I should probably…”

“Ri-”  You start to say.

You’re interrupted, though, as he looks back and starts talking, stopping as well when your words tumble over each other.  You both laugh, and he shakes his head a little.

“I know this is a bit sudden, but do you have plans on Friday?”  He asks.

I do.  Maybe some other time?

“You have my number.”  Anders says, obviously a little disappointed, but smiling anyways.

“I do.”  You agree, giving your pocket a little pat.

“I should…probably work.”  He finally decides, glancing over his shoulder, “Have a good afternoon.”

“Have a good day!”  You say cheerfully, and wave as he turns to head back to the entrance of the store.

Mindful of the kittens waiting to get home, you head right back into your car instead of considering another trip to the mall.  After all, you’ve been here enough today, right?

You’re glad to be getting out, honestly, because the parking lot is filling up quickly, and the air is sharp and cold in your nostrils.  It reminds you all over again that the holiday is coming up, and holiday expenses with it.  

Maybe even snow.  You got new tires, so you’d survive it.

“Well, I got my present, even if I can’t afford anything else.”  You say to yourself, over the faint ‘mew’s from the back seat.  “Hold on, babies, we’ll be home soon.”

Another twenty minutes and you’re back again.  It takes a couple trips to get everything up the stairs, and when it’s all settled you spend some time getting the things set up for the kittens.

By the time you’re done selecting optimal scratcher placement and filling the litter box, it’s almost four.  The kittens have tried their crunchies, and do not appear to be starving to death or anything.  Pet ownership success.  You have a little bit of the day left, but not too much.

What will you do for the next two hours?

Take like five hundred pictures of the kittens and send them to everyone.  &  Try fixing the bathroom door and floor.

You take a whole bunch of kitten (and kitten and selfie) pictures, and start sending them off.  It’s very important, after all.  The little guy doesn’t seem super enthused, though, after exploring he holes himself up under the bed and won’t come out, which is worrying.  Hopefully he’s just adjusting.  The little girl keeps trying to climb into your lap, even when you stand up.

Head scratches are appreciated, but the tummy scritches appear to be a trap.  Your hand is starting to look like you got attacked by a very small serial killer.  Ow.

While you answer texts, you open up the new doorknob and replace it.  It’s an easy project, luckily, and doesn’t take too long.  The floor’s a bit more tricky, and while you study up on the process online, you answer returned texts.  Amusingly, Cole just thanks you for the pictures, but other people have more to say.

Once you answer a few texts, you get back to tackling the floor.  Your hair dryer warms up the linoleum enough to peel it back, and you clean up both floor and underside of it easily enough.  Then it’s time to slather on the adhesive, which you think you do a decent enough job of.

Hopefully.

You remember to weight the floor afterwards, shoving some of your newly-acquired canned goods between the bottom of the cabinet and the floor, wedging them in.

You are a home-repairing, kitten-rescuing badass.

Invite Bethany to dinner, do some Solas flirting.

You send Bethany a text with your address and some directions, and then you spend some time texting while you figure out just what to do for dinner.

Luckily you’ve got a fridge full of fixings, and you dig about while you go from teasing to full on flirting.  Unexpected returned flirting, too.

You don’t know why you’re so surprised, but damn, the man can flirt.

Well.

Okay, then.

You text Bethany again, just to check up and to distract yourself.  She’s on her way, just stopping at home first.  She says her sib has some friends over, but her mom is kicking them out.

She might be a little bit.

Everybody over.  Wednesday night party!

You extend the invitation.  Why not?  They’ve been nice enough to wholeheartedly welcome you to a family get-together, the least you can do is offer.  Sure, the apartment’s not big, but it’s not a studio, at least, so people won’t be on top of your bed.

Suddenly you’re glad you took the time to fix things up and unpack all your boxes.

Much to your surprise, they accept.

It’s about five when the knock on your door comes.  Opening it is a bit like breaking a dam, before you know what you’re doing people are pouring in and Bethany’s laughing and apologizing. 

Okay, maybe it’s not that many people, but they feel like it.  Or, at least Hawke feels like it.  Before you know what hits you, you’ve got an arm slung around your neck and a hand messing up your hair, and you’re left a bit off balance.

“Thanks for having us!”  Hawke says cheerfully, leaning their weight on your shoulder a bit, “I hope you weren’t just being polite, cause if you were, you’re kinda screwed.”

“No, I meant it, but…”  You say, bewildered, trying to straighten up and get a look around, “I just got kittens today, I just have to be careful that they don’t get scared, that’s a…”

“Hey guys, keep it down a bit!”  Hawke orders, interrupting you, and then grins broadly at you as they release you at last, “Got it.  Does your oven work?”

“Uh…yes?”  You hazard, turning around as they walk past you, trying to ascertain just what’s about to happen to your kitchen.

Your eyes meet a pair of bored green ones staring at you from across your counter as you turn around, and you blink for a second in surprise.  Oh!  You know him, it’s the guy that works with Sera.  Fenris, right?

He nods when you wave, and then you turn around again, trying to take stock of the rest of the house.  There’s an elven girl you don’t know with short black hair, still taking off her scarf next to the door, and talking to…

Isabela!  Well, that’s not as big of a surprise, Varric had mentioned Hawke before when talking to her.  She flashes you a small wink when she catches you looking.  Apart from them, there just seems to be a tall redheaded woman that you also don’t know.  She approaches you almost immediately after shrugging after her jacket, extending a hand.

“I’m sorry for this lot.”  She apologizes, voice crisp, “Thank you for having us, I’m Aveline.”

You’re already sorry for them?  Uh oh, should I be worried?

“Worried?  No.”  Aveline says, shaking your hand as you take hers, “Hawke said best behavior, which means at worst the damage will be psychological.”

“I heard that!”  Hawke protests from your kitchen, loudly, “Aveline, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry about sending Donnic that text?”

“Once would be nice!”  Aveline retorts, voice cold, though you notice a faint blush in her cheeks, “Blessed Andraste, Hawke, could you stop bringing that up?”

“How dare you make him think she might actually be interesting?”  Isabela mocks, grinning as Aveline spins and glares at her, her gaze shifting to you, “Nice to see you, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”  You say simply, trying to keep up, “Nice to see you, too.  Do you…know what’s going on in my kitchen?”

“Nachos, I assume, from what Hawke picked up at the store.  I wouldn’t worry, Fenris knows what he’s doing.”  Isabela assures you, with a little grin, “He won’t let Hawke burn your kitchen down.”

“That’s good, I guess.”  You say, uncertainly, “Should I go help, or…?”

“I’ve got it covered.”  Aveline assures you briskly.

You watch her go, feeling a little more comfortable.  She seems pretty responsible, probably won’t let them trash the place.  

“Nice place.”  Isabela says, glancing around, “A bit shabby on the outside, but decent amount of space.  When I first moved to town I was practically living in a closet.”

“It has its quirks, but I’m finally starting to feel at home.”  You say, and then smile as the one person you haven’t met wanders over, leaving Bethany’s side.

“Hello!”  She greets, voice cheerful and lilting, “Isabela, do you two know each other?”

“You could say that, kitten.”  Isabela says with a faint smirk.

Introduce yourself, of course.

“I’m Merrill!”  She greets you in return, smile widening, “Thank you for having us.  It was so nice of you to offer.”

“Well, I figure, why not!”  You say, lifting your shoulders in a shrug, “Bethany said you all were getting kicked out, so…”

“Oh, well, Hawke forgot that their mother had book club tonight.”  Merrill explains, giving a little sigh, “So, how do you two know each other?  Do you work together?”

“No, actually, we met at Varric’s.”  You explain, with a smile, “I work across the street, so…I walked in and Isabela was in the middle of a bar fight, actually.  I just had to say hi after that.”

“Technically, I didn’t start it.  I did finish it, mind you.”  Isabela says, stepping around you and heading for the counter, “Where’s my wine?”

“The instant I start caring, I will be certain to inform you.”  Fenris says flatly to Isabela, and then glances to you, “Do you have a can opener I can borrow?”

“Yeah, top drawer by the fridge…”  You say, “I couldn’t tell you where my corkscrew is offhand, though.”

“It’s a screw top.”  Isabela tells you with a wicked little grin that widens at Fenris’ disgusted sigh, “It’s so much fun to annoy him.”

“They’re always doing that.”  Merrill tells you, and then giggles faintly, “I think he secretly likes it.”

“No.  I do not.”  Fenris mumbles as he digs through a drawer.

“Oh.  Well.  Maybe not.”  Merrill corrects herself.

We should show Bethany the kittens, we did promise after all.

Seeing that Aveline is keeping anything horrible from happening to your kitchen, you gently extricate yourself and head over to Bethany.  She tucks her phone away as you approach, smiling.

“It’s nice of you to do this.”  She says, and leans over to glance around you, “They really are nice.  Fenris too, once you get to know him.”

“He works with Sera.  We sort of not really met once.”  You say, and then beckon.  “C’mon, you have to meet the kitties.”

The kittens are probably in the bedroom.  You put their little bed in there, but they seemed more interested in the basket of laundry.  Maybe that might help them get used to your smell or something?

They’re both in the laundry, but not snoozing.  The little ginger is enduring having his ears cleaned by his sister, at least until he notices you.

“That’s right, I forgot about…”  Bethany starts, trailing after you.

She falls silent as the kitten abruptly jumps to his feet and zooms off, disappearing under the bed.  The little calico just turns and watches him, tongue still poking out slightly.

“He’s been doing that ever since I brought him home.”  You say, a little frustrated as you sit down on the floor and peer under the bed, “He was crawling all over me before.”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay.”  Bethany assures you, crouching down and offering a hand to the little girl, who wobbles to her feet and stomps over to sniff it, “They’ve had a really big day.  Hello, baby!  Aren’t you adorable.”

“We all did.”  You agree, frustrated when you realize the kitten’s huddling in the back.

You don’t want him to be scared of you!

“You should try ignoring him.”  A voice says from the doorway.

Startled, you glance over your shoulder, and Merrill gives you an apologetic smile.

“Oh.  Sorry!   That probably sounded a bit wrong.”  She says, smile turning into a frown, “Cats are hunters.  They don’t like being hunted.  If he’s feeling nervous, he might just need time.”

I didn’t think about it like that.  Thanks, I appreciate your help.

“You’re very welcome!”  Merrill says, sitting down on the floor as well, folding her legs, “It’s a bit noisy, but it’s quiet in here.  He should be all right.”

“I found them only this afternoon.”  You explain, glancing over at the other kitten, now crawling all over Bethany’s lap, trying to catch her fingers.  “I guess it’s a bit much to expect them to be settled in.”

“Everyone needs time to feel at home, even kittens.”  Merrill agrees, “Oh, it’s too bad Anders couldn’t come.  He loves cats, I’m sure he could help.”

Normally you’d shake off the coincidence, but considering how things go around here, there’s no way it isn’t the same guy.  Which reminds you, you should probably put his number in your phone later, before you lose it.

“He actually…helped me with them at the store.”  You say, all too aware that they’re both staring at you now, “And gave them a bath.  I found them in an alley, they were filthy.”

“Then he already met them!  Never mind, then.”  Merrill says, cheerfully.

“You met Anders?  Did he hit on you?”  Bethany asks, mischievously, and then laughs at Merrill’s faint ‘tsk’.  “I’m only asking!”

“I have a feeling I missed something.”  You say, rather than answering the question outright.

“He can be a bit…intense.”  Bethany says, still laughing, “Fair warning, if you’re interested.”

“You’re just assuming he hit on me?”  You ask Bethany, unable to help a smile as she grins at you.

“Didn’t he?”  She asks, picking up the kitten when it nearly tumbles out of her lap.

He asked if I had plans on Friday, but I’m meeting up with Solas after work that night.

“Solas?  I’m not sure I…”  Bethany starts to say, only to get interrupted by Merrill.

“Really?”  She asks you, eyes a little wide, “He’s awfully intimidating, isn’t he?”

“Maybe a little bit?”  You say, lifting your shoulders in a shrug, “If you just talk to him, though, he’s not really at all.  Well, at least until he starts interrogating you.”

“He’s the man that owns that shop I told you that I like.”  Merrill tells Bethany, clarifying, “The one Cole works at.”

“Oh, the one you’re terrified of!”  Bethany declares, and then laughs, “Really?”

“It’s not that I’m scared of him…”  Merrill protests, and then sighs forlornly, “Except that it is.  How are you not frightened of him?  I like to look at the things, but I have to wait until he’s not there.  That’s where I got my necklace.  The one carved out of fossilized halla horn.”

“He’s really not that bad at all.”  You say, reaching over to scratch the kitten behind her ears as she meeps at you from Bethany’s lap, “I think he just needs some time to warm up to you, that’s all.  He’s actually a bit of a flirt.”

“I can’t even imagine.”  Merrill says, sounding almost horrified, “I’d be afraid he’d give me that awful glare.”

“Or maybe you’ve just built him up as being so scary, that you’ve made him into a monster in your head, Merrill.”  Bethany teases.

“That’s probably it.”  Merrill agrees, and then lowers her voice, “Don’t look now, but I think someone has finally gotten curious enough to poke his head out.”

You glance over, discreetly, just in time to see a curious pink nose poke out from under the bed.  Keeping in mind Merrill’s words from earlier, you don’t make a move for now, letting him creep closer on his own.

“So you say he’s a flirt?  Is this a date, then?”  Bethany asks.

Maybe.  I’m not thinking too much about it, just going to see what happens.

You’re tempted, very tempted to show Bethany the texts you were exchanging with Solas, but in the end you decide not to.  You decide to try and play it cool instead.  Hopefully it’s somewhat believable.

“I’d be nervous as anything.”  Merrill says, and then glances over her shoulder at a shout from the kitchen.  “Oh!  I think the food is ready.”

“We’ll be along in a minute.”  Bethany promises, and then turns her gaze seriously to you.

Merrill gets to her feet slowly, you assume to avoid startling the kittens, and then ducks into the other room.  Left alone with Bethany, you can feel the expectation in the air.

“Okay, what is it?”  You finally ask, wriggling your toes slightly as the little ginger boy finally creeps over to sniff at you.

He jumps, but then bats at your foot with a paw.

“I need your help.”  Bethany replies, so soberly that you’re starting to worry about.

“With what?  Of course I’ll help, if I can.”  

“I know Carver still hasn’t gotten me my Satinalia present, and I’m afraid he’s going to get me something awful.”  Bethany says, and your dread turns into abrupt humor, “Can you please find a way to help him?  He feels so horrible when he gets me something I don’t like.  It’s not like when we were children and he knew exactly what I wanted.”

“Is it really that bad?”  You ask with a laugh, “You are twins after all, doesn’t he know you better than anyone?”

“I asked for a scarf and new gloves last year, and he bought me a camouflage set!  With bright orange tassles!”  Bethany replies, lifting her voice as you start laughing harder, “He said ‘I thought you liked green’!”

Of course!  Of course I’ll help.  Just give me some ideas.

Bethany takes a couple minutes to give you some ideas, and you take notes on your phone.  The whole situation is still pretty funny, but you manage not to spill the beans about Carver asking you first.  This is handy, though!  Kill two birds with one stone.

“Have you named them?”  Bethany asks you as you finish typing up.

You look up, and then reach down to pull the little ginger kitten off of your foot as he tries to kill your toes.  Despite his earlier nervousness, he does exactly as he did earlier, and immediately turns into a rumbling, climbing machine, latching his claws into your arm and scrambling out of your hand.

“I was thinking I would call the girl Atisha, and the boy Fen’harel.”  You reply, and then explain at her puzzled look, “It’s elven.  Sort of.  Do you not know the artist, Fen’harel?”

“It sounds vaguely familiar.”  Bethany says, “I only know a couple little phrases that Merrill taught me.  But no, I don’t think I know the artist.”

“It’s just this…thing I’m getting sucked into with Sera.  She’s a fan.”  You say, and then shrug with a smile, “It just seemed like a good name for a troublemaker.”

“They could probably use some quiet time.  I’m going to go out and eat.”  Bethany says, giving the calico one last scratch behind the ears before depositing her back in your dirty laundry.

I’ll be right there, just want to get them settled.

Bethany heads out, and you spend some quiet time with the kittens, listening to the chaos going on just outside your room.  Now that Fen is done cowering under the bed, he seems happy to bite the crap out of your fingers.  Kitten teeth are almost as sharp as kitten claws.  Ouch.

It’s nice to spend some quiet time with them, since you really don’t know each other that well yet.

After a minute or two, Atisha curls up in a discarded t-shirt and tucks a paw over her eyes, which you assume means it’s time for a nap.  You rescue your toes from Fen again, giving him a little scratch behind his ears as you get to your feet.

When you stand up, he runs for the bed again, but at least you know how to get him to come out now.  You navigate your living room to get their food and water, tucking it into the bedroom for now so that they don’t have to come out unless they want to.

When you come back out again, you end up face to face with a plate being shoved at your chest.  Blinking, you look up from the nachos to Fenris, curiously.

“Um…thank you?”  You say, taking the plate from his hands.

Somewhat to your surprise he smiles, sardonically lopsided, and shakes his head at you.

“Did you think we were going to eat in front of you?”  He asks, voice a sarcastic rasp, “In your own home?”

“No, but I can make my own plate!” 

“A fair point, but if you move too slowly, Hawke will eat everything.”  He says, and then steps back towards the couch, “Take whatever you want from the drinks.”

As you follow, you realize that Hawke is sprawled out on the floor in front of your television, sorting through the cords.  Merrill is sitting on the couch watching, and so is Bethany.  Isabela and Aveline are in the kitchen.  Bickering, from what you can hear.

“Can I hook my computer up to this thing?”  They call over at you.

“Yes, I swear it works, despite how old it looks.”  You say, amused, “It should hook right up.”

Go help Hawke

Setting down your plate on your coffee table, you plop down on the floor and help Hawke hook their laptop up to your television.  Considering you don’t have a dvd player or a console yourself, that’s the only way you watch movies, yourself.  

It doesn’t take long before Hawke and Merrill are looking through movies, and you have a minute to eat.  

It’s strange having so many people in your house at once, especially ones you don’t know that well.  But, well, Bethany is here, and Hawke seems to just be treating you as if you’ve known them your whole life, so it’s not actually as awkward as you might have assumed at first.

“No, I can’t just ‘take the ticket off’.”  You hear Aveline say from behind you, loud enough to cut through any other noise.  “And even if I could, I don’t even like you!”

“Of course you like me.”  Isabela counters breezily, lifting the bottle of wine, “Our witty banter is just how we express our friendship.  Well, at least I’m witty.”

“No, it isn’t.”  Aveline counters, and then sighs and extends her glass as Isabela tips the bottle towards her, “Just show up at court, you can probably argue your way out of it.  Try not to let your tits fall out of your shirt while you’re flirting with the judge.”

“You’ll get used to them.”  Fenris says dryly, startling you.

You didn’t even know he was paying attention, he was staring at his phone.  He doesn’t even look up as he speaks, just continues typing with one hand, wine in the other.

Have you tried a spray bottle?  I hear it works wonders for curbing bad behavior.

Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Isabela or Aveline heard you.  They’re still going at it, though a bit more casually now.  

“You know, that might just work…”  Fenris muses gravely, as Hawke snickers, “Either that or someone would get punched.  Are you volunteering to try?”

“Ah, no.  I think I’ll pass, thanks.”  You say, grinning.  “I don’t look good with black eyes.”

“They’re not really black, though, are they.  They’re purple.”  Merrill muses, pausing with a chip halfway to her mouth, “Why do you think they call them that?”

“They sort of look black.  At first.”  Hawke says, bringing up the movie of choice at last, “Here we go.”

Fenris slides over to make room for you, and you settle down next to him out of habit.  And then Hawke settles down on the other side of him…

It quickly becomes obvious that there’s not quite enough seats to go around.  You really hadn’t anticipated this many people just showing up to your apartment like this.  Merrill seems quite comfortable perched on the arm of the couch with her knees up, and Bethany insists she’s fine on the floor, but that doesn’t leave a ton of room.

Still, it’s your house, and you’re playing the good host, you should probably give up your seat at the couch.  Besides, you can go grab something to drink if you get up.

Give Isabela our seat!  Maybe her lap will be free.

“Looking for somewhere to sit?”  You ask Isabela playfully as she approaches the couch.

“No, thank you, I’ve already found my seat.”  She says, lips curving up into a sly smile.

You’re forced to yank your plate out of the way, over your head as she abruptly sprawls over the arm of the couch, ass landing in your lap.  Lazily she stretches her legs over the arm, crossing her ankles, and then slumps against Fenris’ shoulder.

“I am not a headrest.”  He gravels, eyes slanting aside at her.

“Oh now, darling, don’t underestimate yourself like that.”  Isabela replies, “You make a fine headrest.”  

Fenris just sighs disgustedly, but doesn’t move.

Well, your plan has failed, but there’s a butt in your lap, instead, so maybe only about fifty percent failed.  You didn’t manage to get a drink, and now Isabela is stealing your food, but Fenris made you a massive plate so it’s not so bad.

You are, however, trapped, and forced to watch the absolutely awful comedy slash action movie Hawke has picked out.  Bad jokes and ass kicking galore.  On the plus side…pretty girl in your lap, and good company.

By the time you’re midway through the second movie, you actually feel pretty welcomed and comfortable.  Everyone treats you like they’ve known you forever.  Before you realize it, there’s credits and people are making noises like they’re getting ready to leave, and Fenris and Aveline are cleaning your kitchen.

Talk to Hawke/Fenris before they go.

You mosey on in to the kitchen, doing your best not to get underfoot.  They seem to have it pretty well in hand.  Hawke is going a mile a minute, complete with grandiose gestures, their voice rising and falling dramatically.  You scoot closer and try to figure out what’s up.

“And Varric’s got this idea, right?  You know his brother’s got that big store he rents out, right?”  Hawke is saying, hands lifting to rake back their hair.  “He doesn’t have anyone renting it right now.”

“After that whole mess between you lot, you think Bartrand is going to do a thing for you, Hawke?”  Aveline asks, sounding torn between amusement and disgust, “He and Varric are barely speaking any longer.”

“That was all Bartrand’s fault!  All!  I’m just saying…”  Hawke says, leaning over the counter, “Laser tag.”

“No one plays laser tag any more, Hawke.”  Fenris says, shaking his head as he hands a dish to Aveline.

“Karaoke?”  Hawke suggests, hopefully, “No?  Indoor trampolines, then.  Indoor paintball?”

“I like karaoke!”  Merrill calls over helpfully.

“If you are intent on wasting your money, do some research.”  Fenris declares, adding with a sigh as Hawke peers at him expectantly, “I don’t know.  Aren’t gaming bars popular?”

Hawke looks at you, expectantly.

Book stores are making a comeback.  Especially if you serve alcohol!

“I like books.”  You explain, a little bit awkwardly as you suddenly feel all eyes on you, “I’m studying library science, actually.”

“Naughty librarian…”  Isabela teases from near the door, slinging her scarf around her neck, “How very appropriate.”

“Nerds love being drunk.”  Hawke says, stroking their chin, “It helps them pretend they have social skills…this could work.”

“It’s going to be a disaster.”  Aveline says, brusquely, “Find a way to do it that doesn’t involve Bartrand!”

“I have to agree with Aveline, Hawke.”  Fenris says aside, and then glances to you, “You’re studying library science?  That’s an interesting field.  What are you planning on doing with it?”

“I haven’t actually decided.” You say, shaking your head, “I mean, it can open so many doors.  You know, everyone thinks it’s just the public library, but really…”

“You can go almost anywhere.”  He agrees, seeming the most engaged you’ve ever seen him.  “Do you write, yourself, or only work with the books?”

Yes, actually.  I love to write.

“Really.”  He says, so flat that you’re not sure if it’s a question or not, “That’s interesting.”

You’re not really sure what to make of that, because he doesn’t say anything more.  He really is hard to read, isn’t he?  That tiny hint of engaged interest he showed before is gone, his expression more withdrawn and thoughtful as they finish cleaning up.

You try to help, but Hawke keeps distracting you- they really can chatter, and before long, they have you laughing helplessly.  Isabela and Merrill slip out first, you say your goodbyes, promising to see them (apparently both of them!) on Saturday night.

Fenris and Aveline leave together, talking about something to do with squatters’ rights, they both thank you for your hospitality.  Then Hawke drags Bethany out, reminding you about next weekend, and, apparently some sort of dinner you’re expected to go to.

Before you get a chance to ask what the heck they’re talking about, the Hawkes are gone, too, leaving you with an empty, but clean apartment.

That could have gone a lot worse.

You open your door to let the kittens out if they want to get the lay of the land more, and check your kitchen floor- the adhesive seems to be holding.  You feel very accomplished.  It was a very busy day, but you managed to get through it, and make some new acquaintances, besides!

It’s late, but you don’t work until the afternoon tomorrow.  You could stay up for an hour or so before bed.

Check in with Sera about the Fen’harel business.  

You text Sera, but she just directs you to a website.  You know the website itself, of course, everyone’s heard of it, it’s just one of those social news aggregate and discussion sites.  It turns out, a couple of the top discussions today in the art forum are all about Fen’harel.

Weird.

You were under the impression that this gallery thing was sort of a small bit of business- something the fans would care about, but not many other people.  Apparently you underestimated the power of the internet.  One of them even made it to the front page today, which is a big deal.

It turns out that friend of a friend of a friend of Sera’s?  

Some sort of big name art history professor.  You read up on his stuff a bit, especially a piece called ‘Voice of the Streets: The Art of Sociopolitical Discontent’.  It’s…interesting, actually.  Fascinating, and really cool to learn about- but not super relevant.

But he’s on the bandwagon, apparently, and with professorial authority has basically dismissed the entire gallery of paintings as being fake.  That’s big, and even if the comments on the post are for the most part garbage (c’mon, you know better than to read internet comments), it seems like a lot of people agree.

A lot of people think he’s an arrogant ass talking out of his butt, but it’s something.  Sera seems pleased as punch.  Half of you thinks tomorrow everyone will have forgotten about it, though, but you don’t have the heart to tell her that when she calls you.

It’s something.

It’s a start.

Unfortunately, one dismissal probably isn’t enough to do any damage.  Hopefully Sera won’t wake up tomorrow to find the whole world’s forgotten.

You ask her what the next step is. 

She tells you the next step is to find proof.  You were sort of hoping that you’d already done that, but nope, apparently not.  She wants you to help her get some sort of interview with this Florianne de Chalons, apparently.

But you’ll talk about that tomorrow.  You say goodnight, make sure the cats have food and know how to find it, and then head to bed.

End of Day 4