The Curse of Crockett Hill

Crockett Hill, stardate 79047.7:

The sun rose slowly over the village of Crockett Hill. It was a crisp winter’s morning, and a light snow had fallen the night before, making the place look not unlike a Christmas card come to life.

In the town square, Jeanette Duchannes was taking a walk. She liked to do this in the morning, it helped her get her thoughts in order for the day to come. The wolves had been suspiciously quiet lately… which probably meant they were planning something. Maybe that unicorn she’d spoken to the other night would help, if things got dicey.

Heaving a sigh, Jeanette swept some snow from a bench and sat down to watch the sun come up, sipping a cup of coffee as she did. Whatever was going to happen over the next few days, at least she had this.

Blake awoke from the park bench. Not the worst place they've slept in, all things considered. The warmth spell certainly protected them from the implications of the cold. It was still dark, though the sun had begun to peak into the land like a Tom in a locker room.

There was a diner not too far from the park. In Blake's experience, most 24 hour diners at the wee hours in the morning were the hospice of the tired, the homeless, and the desperate. A skeleton crew, at best, was working the shift. Probably wouldn't even bother them for another hour or two. No matter, it was a good excuse to plan.

Blake sat near the window, looking at Crockett Hill. There was some work to be done. Later. But the work nevertheless needed to be done. Even if it wasn't done by Blake's hand.

As Blake put a cigarette in their mouth, a waitress too tired to be working made a sound that was almost language while pointing to a no smoking sign. Blake put the cigarette back into their pocket. They too made a noise that was also language.

Soon, Jeanette finds herself leaving the bench and heading into the diner. Like everything else in this town, it had seen better days. She could still remember when it opened.

Even so, at least the food was still good. 

“Mornin’ Madame Mayor,” said the cook, as Jeanette entered the room.

“Morning, Avery,” Jeanette called back. She found herself glancing at Blake, and then sitting across from him at the table.

“You’re a new face,” she says at last. “Name’s Jeanette Duchannes, I’m the mayor here. You?”

Blake looked at Jeanette like an insomniac does the sun when some bastard decides it's a good idea to open the blinds. Course, they've been around the game long enough to know who Jeanette Duchannes was. Who her family was. And what was to happen should they get too close.

"Blake." Still, Blake was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when working.

“Good to meet ya, Blake,” Jeanette said, looking around the room. She could see the judgement in Blake’s face alright, and it weighed on her.

That was why the town was falling apart: the curse of her Auntie Lena. No one wanted to live somewhere with a high likelihood of being murdered by wolves.

The waitress came over to their table, asking about food. Jeanette ordered scrambled eggs and toast with hash browns… and whatever Blake wanted too.

"Pancakes and milk." Blake knew from well worn experience that no matter the diner, the only food that was edible was pancakes and it was far too early for anything but milk.

Blake returned their gaze to the village. In truth, they didn't hold much animosity towards Jeanette or her line. Everyone's got a past, and if the worst your folks did was have people get murdered by wolves every now and then, well... Blake's met worse people.

Still, Blake knew who Jeanette was. What she was capable of. Better to not aggravate her than have her stop their business.

"How long have you been the mayor?" Stay cordial, but aloof, Blake thought. Don't want a repeat of London.

“Since the Yanks elected the orange bastard,” Jeanette replied. “But it’s felt like longer. I have another election coming up this year, it’ll be term number three. People like me for some reason.” She smirked a little. “Must be my winning personality.”

Politicians. In Blake's experience, every con artist eventually did government work. The kind of job where you realize far too late that you've been fucked over ten ways from Sunday. Got extremely hard to avoid in the 80s before the class realized that corporations were government too. Always ends the same way, regardless of if you go in blind or mindful: Burnt Bridges and a Thief on the run.

"Well, you seem delightful. Can't see any reason for people not to like you." Liberal type, given the Trump snark. Too small to be in the pocket of anyone notable. Too big to not be Government. Better play it safe. Play to ego. "And you're doing better than the Second Coming of Maggie Thatcher."

Blake ignored the light tapping of fingers on their leg. They really wished they could smoke right now.

Jeanette snorted a laugh. The resulting smile completely changed the look of her face, allowing Blake to see warmth, happiness, even joy… emotions she wasn’t used to feeling these days.

The food arrived, and she dug into her meal, munching on her toast first. In between bites she asked, “So, what’s your story? The way you look at me I feel like I’m talking to Sherlock Holmes.”

Pfft. Holmes was a fop who spent most of his time high on a ten percent solution. "I see myself as more a... Sam Spade type." They spread the cream over the top pancake before cutting the pile to eat. They weren't the best pancakes in the world, but they had their charms. Much could be said of the town.

But Jeanette was selling them something. Herself, most likely. Wanted to come across as that friend you never knew you always had. Help the people, be kind, and other malarky politicians sell when the election's coming up. Maybe if it wasn't an election year, Blake would've been more sympathetic. Then again, her's wasn't the only election Blake had to deal with this year.

"As for my story," and then Blake proceeded to spin a bald faced lie about being a wandering hobo exploring the country. Their journey took them to Crocket Hill for reasons yet untold. But once they found them out and righted the wrong, they'd move on to the next Crocket Hill.

In truth, Blake knew exactly why they were here.

Still, Blake had to say, Jeanette was among the more pleasant politicians they dined with. She might be useful in the long run.

“Good morning Jeanette!” A young woman with dark hair walks into the room. “How’s breakfast?” This was Magdalene Ravenwood, Jeanette’s cousin.

“Maggie!” Jeanette beamed and embraced her cousin, then sat her down in the booth. “Breakfast is breakfast-y, and worth the euros.” She gestured to Blake. “Maggie, Blake. Blake, Maggie Ravenwood. My fabulous cousin, here all the way from Gatlin County in America.”

Shit. "America? Not gonna start a war on us, eh?" Blake did what they thought was an American accent, but in truth sounded more Canadian than anything else.

“Oh Blake…Look, honey, we beat y’all at Yorktown. Why would we need to start a war with y’all again?” Magdalene laughs, warmly.

Great, one of those Americans, Blake thought. ”I’m Scottish, you didn't beat my people at shite."

Jeanette laughed again. “Keep it together, you!” she says to Blake, her Irish brogue slightly thicker than usual. “We can all come together for our hatred of the English.”

“Now ain’t that the truth, cousin?” Maggie giggles softly. “The English can go to four kinds of Hell and then some!”

Blake lifts their mug of milk up, but says nothing. Another politician game. The tapping everyone was politely ignoring was getting faster.

Jeanette looked down at Blake’s hand. “Needing a ciggie, are we? Go on out, we’ll keep the food from running away.”

Maggie laughed. “Don’t bet on it, cousin. No promises as to the safety of any foodstuffs in this place! I’m ravenous!”

First decent thing the politician has said, thinks Blake. He leaves for the moment. The sun rise glistens on the snow with the blink of stolen diamonds. The tar of tobacco and marijuana coats their throat like ash in a stone oven.

There are times when they ponder why they chose this lot in life. Lot of people died on the last gig. Some of them were even decent folk. Why keep doing it if the best case scenario is a few greens in the pocket and maybe one minor politician getting what they deserve. The answer, of course, was the same as that of the question "Why should you be happy when you're going to be sad tomorrow?" Because what else can you do? Die?

When they returned to the diner, the cousins were talking about a personal matter. Blake decided to leave 'em be. Besides, the American was true to her word. She might as well pay for the meal. There was probably an inn they could check into in the meantime. Sleeping on benches is fine when you're setting up a score, but you need a bed to actually pull it off.

Back in the diner, the waitress comes over to take Magdalene’s order. “What can I get you?” she asks.

Maggie grins. “Bacon, eggs, toast, coffee — black as sin, strong as death, and rank as poison — and uh, do y’all have hash browns in Ireland?”

The waitress nods, "Of course we do. I'll be right back." She goes off to hand the order to Avery the cook.

Jeanette, meanwhile, turns to her cousin. "So... how's the old place these days? Not burned it down yet?" She was referring, naturally, to Ravenwood Manor - the house their uncle Macon owned.

“It ain’t burned down, but it ain’t in good shape either,” said Maggie. “Neither is Uncle Macon if I’m honest. They both seem specially fragile these days.”

Jeanette heaves a sigh. "Why am I not surprised. After everything that happened with Auntie Lena, I'd be falling apart too." She stares into her coffee, pensive. "Think he'd like to see me?"

“I’m sure he’d be delighted. Might take a while to get him out of his shell though.” Maggie frowns, thoughtfully. “Look, you should visit, but you’ll have to be patient, okay, hon? His social stamina isn’t what it used to be.”

As they chat, the door opens, the bell jingling by way of announcement. Addie Fortune, a young girl no older than 20 walks in, wrapped up against the cold and wearing a backpack that looks far too heavy for someone of her frame to ever carry. She leans up against the counter with a wide smile. "Hi!" she says, to no member of staff in particular.

"Just a moment," comes the shout from the kitchen.

Addie's eyes take in the room while she waits. The memorabilia from so many years of Crockett Hill's existence and, she supposes, of the diner's too. Her gaze falls upon the three people sat at a table, and strides across the diner.

"That looks good," she points at what's left of Jean's scrambled eggs, "Is that good? I've never been here before so I don't know what to order but you look like you're a regular here so I'll trust you. What is it? Looks like eggs. I'll have those. Also I'm new in town, you won't have seen me around so before you say anything, yes, I have horns. It's a whole thing, long long story. Also do they do coffee here? It's so cold outside and I really gotta warm up. Hi, I'm Addie."

She finally takes a breath in.

Jeanette holds up the cup of coffee and says, "Yes, they do coffee here. If they didn't, I'd be on 'em for crimes against humanity." She smiles. "Name's Jeanette Duchannes, I'm  the mayor here. And this," she gestures to Magdalene, "is my cousin Maggie. Food's pretty good, considering it's the only diner still open in town these days."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Addie," she pauses, "Oh wait, I already told you that. I'm new here and... wait, I already told you that too."

Jeanette nods, "So... the horns. I know it's a long story, but let's just say I have time. Can't be worse than anything me and Mags have been through."

“Hello Addie! Pleased to meet you! And the horns do look lovely!”

Addie blushes slightly, "Thank you, uh... Meg? Oh! Maggie! So Crockett Hill is a place for all sorts of weird and wonderful people, right? I found you while I was studying. I do history, I love it."

Jeanette nods, "One of the biggest magical sites in this part of Ireland. Used to be home to a coven, and then a couple centuries later, a pack of wolfwalkers."

"You have to walk wolves?!" Addie's eyes widen.

"What? No. I mean..." Jeanette pauses. "Did you never hear the story about the wolves of Ossory?"

As if some cosmic storyteller wished to up the ante for this particular encounter, within the diner there was suddenly a door upon a wall that didn't previously have one. It was magnificently ornate, constructed of black wood with any metal elements such as the hinges and the door handle being made of a glittering silvery metal. Carved upon the surface of the door were various macabre visions of ghastly and ghoulish figures engaged in some sort of revelry. A pair of clawed skeletal hands held a large red gemstone aloft, centered in the upper half of the door.

This door opened as a figure stepped quite casually through it. While the individual was humanoid, they certainly weren't human. They were best described as a pink-furred unicorn of all things that stood exactly six feet tall with a relatively wild long white mane that possessed a certain strange weightless quality to it. 

She also had a long white tail that more or less fell in line with conventional physical laws, bound near the tip with a black tie. For clothing she was dressed in a glossy black sleeveless minidress with a simple choker around her neck, as well as a pair of matching thigh-high boots designed with hooves in mind. The most striking feature was likely the black ceramic mask with a red wedge design that she wore upon her face.

The rather unique woman would take a few seconds to observe her immediate surroundings with her solid red softly glowing eyes before a smile that could be described as vaguely sinister overtook her expression. She spoke, her voice dark and inexplicably sensuous. "Oh, how quaint and cozy. I so do love the small town aesthetic. Makes one just want to lash a blanket around themselves and curl up in front of a fireplace while drinking hot cocoa." 

Addie looks at the figure and gasps loudly and dramatically, "I want hot cocoa."

Jeanette watches the arrival of the pink unicorn, strange door and all, and gazes at her from the tips of her ears to her hoof-boots. Her magical senses twinge a bit at the sudden onslaught of dark magic... and alien magic, at that. Not Caster magic.

While the waitress goes to get Addie's cocoa, Jeanette simply says to the pink unicorn, "I'm guessing you're not a space cadet like the other one?"

The pink unicorn chuckled as she regarded the horned woman. The woman with two horns, that is. "Well, unfortunately I'm not very good at making it myself. You will have to ask for it elsewhere."

Her gaze whipped over to Jeanette as they spoke. "Space cadet? Whatever could you be referring to?" It was at this point that the elaborate door would very audibly break free of the wall and fall. Instead of the expected tremendous bang, the door simply exploded into a cloud of what could only be described as black mist before vanishing completely in a matter of seconds. 

Jeanette watches the door fall and the resulting puff of mist drift past impassively, before answering the unicorn's question: "Tall, grey, green eyes, unicorn? Really posh? Came to visit me the other week."

The masked mare gave the other a very strange stare, although it was a little difficult to tell what she was staring at due to the lack of visible pupils. "Are you talking about Gemmy-dear? If so, it never ceases to amaze me how small of a cosmos it can really be sometimes. Or perhaps it's intentional? What is the truth of the matter? I certainly wont say." She chuckles softly.

"Yeah, Gem, that was her name. Said she was a captain of something or other." Jeanette shrugs. "Anyway, not important. Welcome to... Earth, I guess. What brings you to Crockett Hill?"

"Mm, yes, that would be the Endeavour. It's a starship. It a whole thing, but I'm not going to get into that. Anyway, isn't she just so cute? Just so full of hope and wonder." She lifted a hand, making a beckoning motion toward an empty chair across the room. The chair would in fact make its way over to her, awkwardly dancing upon its legs. She delicately lowered herself onto it, crossing a leg over the other. "Of course she hasn't seen the things I've seen, the places where violence and madness reign. She only sees that little trickle through the cracks." 

In answer to Jeanette’s question, Wicked adds: ”Why, that's quite simple, really. I'm on vacation! It has been such a long time since I've allowed myself an appropriate reprieve."

"Tell me about it... I wish I could take a vacation. Running a town as small as this one, with the cursed werewolves howling every fecking night..." Jeanette groans. "It's exhausting."

The pink mare's ears would perk at the other's words. She stood up out of her chair, using one of her legs to give the chair a precise and measured kick. The chair would spin around before stopping with its back towards Jeanette. The Unicorn sat back down, backwards, straddling the chair and leaning forward upon the back of it. "Werewolves, you say? How did your little town here come to be visited by such notably rowdy guests?"

Jeanette heaved a sigh as she began to tell the story. “My aunt Lena, five hundred years ago, murdered a banshee’s coven. The survivors caught and killed her, and in revenge she cursed the place. Since then, the werewolves she created have lurked around the outside of the hill, waiting for the right moment to massacre us all.”

The winter chill bit into Regan's tired bones - in fairness, they stepped out in his pajamas and a robe onto a patio draped in powder, but they were determined to use any means to more swiftly wake up for the day and prepare for his onboarding at the academy. "Adjunct Teacher", it turned out, was nothing more than a glorified substitute teacher title, but it paid twice what they would have gotten, so they had little reason to complain. 

The coffee in their gasp did little beyond warming their belly and potentially causing a movement in the next hour, but it was part of Regan's routine - and it helped to have a routine. Their life had a little too much chaos for their liking, and this new job, Regan believed, would help to bring that disorder to a minimum. Their first day of work wasn't going to be for a few more days, but it helped to get up early.

Not wishing to stay idle inside their modest abode (a two-bed townhouse that was respectable enough), Regan opted to tour Crockett Hill and become more familiar with its features. Of course, that plan needed an immediate detour to the diner, as his only caloric intake for the day was coffee and half-and-half. 

"Well, I have to say that's a relief! While I pride myself in having a sense for knowing just where to be, I was perhaps a smidge concerned that I was going to find myself nearing boredom. It seems that I have no reason to be concerned." The pink mare placed her chin upon her hands, which had been resting on the back of the chair. Her white tail flicked somewhat mischievously behind her.

"I assume these vicious brutes are bound to certain rules intrinsic to the curse, otherwise I'm sure they would have made short work of this place within five-hundred years."

Jeanette nods, "The Cast that my aunt used was very well thought out, I'll give her that much... I'm surprised it's taken this long to rear its head. They've been quiet lately, the wolves... which probably means we could be in for a bad time tomorrow."

As Regan makes their entrance, Jeanette waves to him. "Good morning, and welcome to Crockett's own Dairy Keen, what can we do ya for?"

Regan gave a curt smile and nod with the greeting. "What's your special today?"

"Blueberry waffles with sausage or bacon and a biscuit," answers the increasingly busy waitress, bustling over to refill Jeanette's coffee. "More cream, madame mayor?"

"Please," Jeanette answers, turning back to Regan. "I'm Jeanette, the mayor around here. How about you?"

"Yes to the lot, and a plain coffee, thank you!" They replied, witnessing the harried waitress skitter about to earn keep and favor. They turned back to Jeanette. “A pleasure to meet you. Regan Abergavenny. I'm supposed to be an adjunct teacher for the academy but I figured I should get to know the place some."

The Unicorn mare glanced to the new arrival, although again, her lack of pupils made this difficult to perceive easily. "How delightful. It seems that my timing was ideal. How about that." A soft little giggle escaped her.

She rose to her hooves again, giving the chair another kick. This time it sent to chair back to its original location. She approached Jeanette, moving close enough to hold her hand out towards the Mayor. The fur of her hand was black, fading from pink about halfway up her forearm. "Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wicked Wishes. I would usually make a whole big spectacle of my introduction, but I promised myself that I would take it easy during my stay here."

Jeanette shakes the hand, "Nice to meet you, Wicked Wishes. You gotta tell me about your neck of the woods sometime." To Regan, she adds: "Oh yes, I heard about you! The headmistress was very happy to get someone in. Ever since Bev Keane died last fall, the position's been vacant. Glad it finally got filled."

Wicked Wishes, huh, thought Regan. After witnessing that ... wolf thing a while back, they decided that it was easier to just let the absurdity of the universe wash over them. It gave them peace. 

The name, though, reminded them of early 2000s pop punk for some reason. 

"Yes," they replied, mildly distracted by the Unicorn's presence. "It was a shame to hear. I'm afraid I don't know the circumstances, but I feel it may not be my place to pry." 

"Vampires, believe it or not. It was a weird time." Jeanette shrugs. "Anyway, glad to have you here." She smiles, as the waitress arrives with food for Regan.

"Oh this looks absolutely delicious." Before they started to attack the waffles, Regan stopped to sate a bit of curiosity. "If this is too much for me to ask, you can decline to answer, but ... Daytime or nighttime attack?"

Wicked acquired a vaguely sinister little smile now that proper greetings had been exchanged with the Mayor. "Perhaps I shall. Anyway, I appreciate the warm welcome, and I hope to enjoy your hospitality in the days to come. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have myself a little wander. Until next we meet."

The pink mare looked to the man, giving him what may have very well been a sultry look before she turned and walked towards the diner's entrance and exit, sashaying her hips just a bit as she did so. She would stop suddenly before making her way out. Without any real warning, a pair of wicked black bat-like wings exploded from her back before wrapping around her body. In a matter of seconds the wings had become an extravagant black fur coat. With that she exited the building.

"Nighttime," Jeanette answers at once. "Always nighttime. And they change every night, not just when the moon is full like in movies." She waves Wicked farewell, nodding her head to the pink unicorn.

Regan was distracted from eating the waffle on their fork, watching the unicorn leave. 

The name "Wicked Wishes" was conjuring an imaginary side project by Avril Lavigne in their head.

"This place is weird. I love it," Addie quips to herself.

"I've heard of maybe one daytime attack but it was a darker environment, so that makes sense,” Regan said finally. “I guess I'll have to be on the lookout.”

Jeanette nods, resuming her coffee. "So! Addie. Where ya from?"

Addie: "Well, I guess originally Hell or whatever passes for it. Probably. But I live down South with my folks. They don't look like me, if you're wondering."

"So Hell is real, huh? Those billboards in rural Ohio were right! Who knew." Jeanette chuckles, amused. "If they don't look like you, what do they look like?"

Addie shrugs, "Just... normal, I guess. They're not biological parents. One day when I was a baby I just showed up on their doorstep and they took me in. Wasn't like they had no experience of children - I've got five big brothers, so watch it."

She giggles to herself, before her expression turns to an uncharacteristic frown, "I just wish I knew more about who I am. I thought Crockett Hill might be the best place to find it. The only place, really.”

“For what it’s worth, we have a pretty good sized library at the north end of Whitaker Road,” Jeanette was saying to Addie. Just past the bank, where the petrol station used to be.”

Addie: "Wait, wait, wait..." Addie holds up a hand. She opens her backpack and pulls out a notepad, then dumps most of the contents onto the table until she finds a pen.

With a sad smile, she admits, "Gotta write it down or I'll forget. Library, Whitaker Road, past the bank. Got it."

Jeanette nods, looking pleased. “What do you wanna know about yourself? Genealogy?”

"Would be nice. I've had to discover stuff about myself without any guidance. Like these-" Addie closes her eyes for a second, and a large pair of wings materialize behind her, knocking people away and her backpack's contents spilling onto the floor of the diner. "Oh, crap! I forgot about that. Sorry, sorry. Oh, no..."

Jeanette simply snaps her fingers, and the various fallen objects rise back up into the air, falling in reverse, and are placed in Addie's bag where they belong, neatly organized. "Temporal manipulation Casts come in handy now and then, don't they?"

"Whoa..." Addie's face is frozen in wonder, "Mind. Blown. All I can do is this."

She holds her index finger out in front of her and concentrates hard. A small flame erupts around the end of her finger. "People who smoke love me."

Jeanette laughs softly. "Maybe Maggie can give you some pointers, she's been casting fire spells ever since her Claiming."

"Oh, wow. Yes. I mean, I don't know if I'm magic magic, but I'll give anything a try once. That's why they call me-" Addie cuts herself off, "Uh... you know what? Inappropriate."

The atmosphere gets heavy with a silence that Addie always hates. She breaks it after just a few seconds, "Sooo... what's it like living here?"

"Crockett's not a big town," Jeanette replies. "We've got pretty much everything you need - a church, some shops, a school, a lot of houses, you know. Not a lot of crime, aside from the occasional werewolf attack. And we have a wolf preserve - the folks who run it do a good job of taking care of them, and the wolves themselves are nice too. It's the cursed ones you have to watch out for."

"How do I know which ones are cursed?” Addie asks. “Tell me they have some kind of weird, I dunno, purple smoke or something?"

"They're the ones who lurk outside of town, and change back into humans when the sun rises,” Jeanette answers. “So you won't know until one attacks you, basically."

“Cool. Cool, cool..." Addie's visibly nervous now, "Uh... just say for example someone wanted to get the hell out of town, wh-where would they do this? Asking for a friend. Who's not me."

“Unfortunately, Addie, we’re kinda stuck here for now.” Maggie laughs, ruefully.

Jeanette nods. "What my cousin said. Only way this ends is if we kill them first, or they kill us, unfortunately." She heaves a sigh. "Wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened."

Addie picks her notepad up and under 'Visit library' writes 'Try not to die'. She laughs nervously, "Hey, maybe at the library I'll discover I'm immortal or something? Not that that's very likely, I'm very accident prone. Although none of them have killed me yet so... fingers crossed?"

Jeanette crosses her fingers. "Anything's possible, I can tell ya that much."

In a gust of wind, the door sweeps open and Shining Jennifer of the Twilight strides in and sprawls into a chair at a nearby table. "Well. What was that conspicuous creature I passed on my way here?"

Jeanette waves, "If you're referring to the pink unicorn, that'd be Wicked Wishes. I'm Jeanette, what's your name?"

“I am Shining Jennifer of the Twilight," she says, with an almost childish delight in saying her own name. "Emissary of the Gossamer Courts of Dream and Darkness, and did your secretary really not inform you of my presence?"

”Oh, she said someone of that description had announced herself in such a way," Jeanette replies. "Nice to finally make your acquaintance, your ladyship."

”Addie Fortune of the B&B up the road," Adie holds out a hand, "Emissary of the Fortune family, I guess? It's lovely to meet you, Shining. Jennifer? Is that like a first name or just a description? You are a little bit shiny. I hope that wasn't offensive, it's rather lovely."

"It is my name, and it is all my name. Which is mine." Jennifer takes Addie's hand and inspects it like a palm-reader. "Hmm. Are you also an ambassador, then? This place seemed like it had quite forgotten its significance."

"Me? An ambassador? Pfft!" Addie laughs heartily, "I was just jealous you got to say all those cool things about yourself and I'm just... Just me. Sometimes I say things without really thinking them through."

Jeanette sighed. ”Forgotten? More like, doesn't want to remember. Wouldn't you, if you lived in a town with werewolves at the border?"

"Werewolves?!" Jennifer’s eyes widen very briefly. "My, you do have problems. Well, as I told your forgetful secretary, fairy friendship is back on the table... Waiter! Have you any milk?"

A server approaches. "Dairy or non?"

"Dairy, yes, dairy,” says Jennifer. “From a cow if you have it, from a goat if you don't."

"No, I mean..." The server sighs and goes to get the regular dairy milk, muttering something about Mortal phraseology being ridiculous.