I toss the bacon on the pan, satisfied with the sizzle. I take much less primping than my warlord, so I opt to cook while he gets dressed, lest I jump him again and claim another portion of our day. Stealing a glance over my shoulder to make sure he's not rounding the corner, I promptly put some water on the stove to heat and dump in the packet of instant hot chocolate. 

I don't have any issues with the packaged stuff. While the purest might have their qualms, there was something satisfying about the taste and the short time it took to make it. I make him tea to lessen the blow of my choice of drink and nibble at a bowl of hot oatmeal and some fruit. I turn my attention to the TV, wrinkling my nose as I step over the cat to get a closer look. 

"Senator Johnathan Campbell came out today with a statement encouraging our city to do something about the killer cat creatures who plague our streets. Local sightings are on the rise, and while their main location appears to be the inner cities, we are beginning to see them even in the farthest regions of our fine state. The Senator had this to say-"

The screen pans to a very proper-looking Senator Campbell, looking fitter every time I see him. "I'm not sure what the call to action should be, but we must encourage our mayors, our officers, and our community to act against these domestic terrorists and call them in when we see them. We can not allow lawless criminals to run the streets, hurting the innocent and destroying countless buildings. We must take action; what that action is we've yet to decide." 

I nod in appreciation for the man; he's one of the few government officials I've met who I feel cares about his country and his nation. He sets the stage for us to step in; it would be simple to slide in and take over if we caused minimal damage. 

I'm to well versed to miss the hidden meaning behind his words, the way he dances around a solution also means that he could easily cut us out if we ended up being a non-essential part of this plan and for that, I remain on my toes. 

"You can see the rest of his speech on our live feed. The state is in a panic, and the public is encouraging the Senator to issue a state of emergency to get these mystery creatures dealt with. We'll have more on the story as it arrives. Red, formerly known as Mistress Corina, had this to contribute-"

"We must not forget that we look to our local heroes in times like this." 

I scowl at her, she looks burnt up, her face caked with makeup. Her features were too firm, too harsh, alien compared to the soft curves she once boasted. It would appear my backlash had done its job, "Eat it, whore." I spit at the television, taking another bite of my breakfast.

"In honor of Senator Campbell and our police force, I've invited my friends from the UK to place a private concert for us alone to show unity and peace and to lift our spirits. The band, Reining Fire, will play a concert live on the jumbotron in Times Square for all to see-" 

She rambles off as I tune out, supporting her business model of being the holy trinity for these people. Was this the band that Ron was talking about? So they work for Red? We couldn't be sure; she would have said she and Verando were friends, and that was anything but the truth. 

Verando appears from the hallway, fastening his belt before tugging the sweater's hem down over it. A simple button-up with the collar peeking out and a slim fit, knit, gray sweater over the top. I raise an eyebrow at him; it was never an outfit I'd thought I'd see him in. Odd how he went from being my woodsy, burly warlord to the clean-cut, fashion-forward Mr.Mercer. 

His stubble is gone, and I almost frown at his clean-shaven jaw. Trimmed, yes, but clean? Though it does allow me to admire his bone structure, I'm not fond of staring at the mark Mother blessed him with on his lip. 

"Mr.Mercer has also agreed to attend." I stare at him, and he stares back at me, and I know this is false. 

"Well, there you have it, Reining Fire and Ronald's own up-and-coming, Verando Mercer, along with select holograms, will perform on the jumbotron, live, in Times Square the day after Thanksgiving." 

Marisol turns the volume off and shakes her head, running a hand through her hair. I quickly hurry over to take the bacon out of the pan. 

"You sure do a lot of charity." She complains to Verando, adjusting the bottom of his sweater. "You look like a Christmas card."

Snagging a bagel, he's less than impressed at her insults. "It's not charity; if they want me to do it, they'll have to pay me, and I'm notoriously expensive. Red just got written a massive check to come here to speak; I'm sure she has plenty of money and plans to pay my price, whatever it may be. She's up to something."

I place the bacon on a plate and set out two cups for tea. Marisol waves the cup away, "I smell that hot chocolate. Don't give me this sissy drink." 

Changing her mug obediently, Verando pours himself a cup of tea and shakes his head at her.

 "She wants to be in the same vicinity as you? After what she did?"

"She didn't say she'd be there, did she?" He reminds her, drumming his fingers on the countertop as he takes a sip. "What's Thanksgiving? When is that?"

She blinks at him, turning her attention to me, and I shrug; I genuinely don't know. Palming her forehead, I don't see how she can be so offended when she's from the same time as us. "Uh. It's an eating holiday. Duh?"

"Good lord, why?" Verando sighs. "All everyone does in this time is eat. I feel bloated already."

"Hell should I know? A thanks for giving? All I know is Abuela cooks, and she makes a lot of food, and that is where I will be. It's in five days. Also, when did you become such a prude about your weight?" 

He choked on his tea, and I almost dropped my hot chocolate. "What?"

"I'm planning a hunt." He grumbles. "In three days."

"I've got training. Damn it... she has to know. Randy. Someone has to have told her what we are planning. I did this to find a leak, and I couldn't even do that right-" He stuffs a strawberry in my mouth, and I glower at him, offended. 

Running a hand through his tangle of hair, he mulls this over. "Nic, it's ok. We're just going to have to move up the timeline. She thinks she's ahead of us, but she's not. This only further proves our theory that Red has an accomplice or has some sort of ability to see into the future.

 We need to get close to them, figure out where she goes when not at these events, and find out who she's talking to. We have to find the leak if there is one. Someone has to know something; if nothing else, I will get with Marcello and Ron, to see if I can come up with a way to pin her down and arrange another meeting. Maybe she'll talk to me or give me some hint; she's pretty damn proud of herself." 

"Or kill you," Marisol tells him in frustration, resting her hand on her stomach as I pour her a drink. 

She sipped the hot chocolate and made an appreciative sound. 

"Damn. I'd marry you, too. You're both good housewives. I'm going to live here forever." 

While it only seems to bother me, I hadn't noticed Marisol had practically been living with us these last few weeks. What I had noticed, however, was that Tonic had been scarce since the ex-lovers had reunited. He didn't come around anymore, and every opportunity he had to see me at the compound or interact with Tyle, Tonic seemed to take it as a chance to take leave.

I couldn't say that that fact disappointed me. I was happy that he seemed to have given up. Maybe he considered Marisol, more of a threat than his father.

"What if you mobilize your little armies? I'll call some past employees to show them where we spotted the cats before and stir up some trouble. Make her little event look like a shit show; Nic can fuck up the weather and make it so she has to attend and perform another miracle if she wants anyone to watch. I imagine she will want that publicity."

Fake a catastrophe?

We were supposed to be helping people. Even if it would benefit us in the long term, muddying the perception of our group so early in the game seemed like a risky maneuver. "And what if we get caught?"

Verando shrugs one shoulder, indifferent, "Best not get caught then. If she figures out it's us via a leak; she will have to come and deal with it on her own before it happens. It would be a fine way to test our theory; I'm sure I'll get a phone call any moment to tell me I'll be swamped with rehearsals. 

It wouldn't be the worst thing if I skipped the hunt and focused a bit more on this mess with Ron. We could pick it up after Thanksgiving. That doesn't give us much time, but you can still train the magic users, and Helen can work with the pack." 

Was this how he felt when I was a King? 

Getting pulled in different directions, knowing he had a schedule that I was privy to, was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't quite a fan of being separated again; we were proven time and time again to work our best together. 

Sensing my hesitation, Marisol rolls her eyes while raiding the kitchen for a piece of bacon and a bagel. 

"I'm going to take a shower." She departs to let us talk, and I'm grateful, though questioning her need for a bagel in the shower. 

Putting my drink in a mug, I splash in some cream liquor and top it with whipped cream. Old habits die hard; I'd been dying for a drink, and while I'd managed to sneak in the odd sip or two, spending so much time together meant avoiding my poison. It wasn't uncommon for people to drink, but the amount I'd been consuming while we were separated was reckless. 

He'd worry if he knew.

"Randy, whatever we do, we need to do it together. It's clear to me that she wants us apart if she thinks I'm still alive, which I assure you she does. Wherever you go, I will go, too."

Verando mulls this over. "I think you're fine to resume training on your own. I'll drop you off and pick you up. Try it for a few days; if it's not going well, we can revisit it. Does that sound fair?" 

I know it's his attempt at a compromise, and I can't help feeling pushed off. Adding an extra splash to my drink, he snags the bottle and places it higher than I could reach in a human capacity. 

Perhaps it was my lack of willingness to be alone with Grayson, maybe that was why I desperately wanted him around. I didn't need protecting; I could handle myself, but knowing he would ward off any offenders was a comfort I didn't think I needed. Ever since Sherian's torment, the idea of another man touching me was a hard line to cross. 

It was hard to reason with myself that, even without my torture, I didn't deserve to be fondled against my will. Having him there helped me draw that line; needing the warmth, I slinked a little closer to him. 

"If we make a move on the cats, I will be there with you."

"And if they attack on their own?" I challenge him sternly; it could happen quickly with a training exercise drawing any unwanted attention. Hell, Red could sense it and show up; he would be hours away rehearsing while I was fighting for my life—our lives. 

 How would he explain away his unconsciousness if I had to use the wolf? There were so many variables. 

"Randy, if you're on stage in front of millions of people and I draw off of you, we are royally screwed. Everyone will see that there is something off about you, and the government could take you back, or worse, you get sent to the hospital, and something worse happens there. 

We don't know what would happen if someone attempted to revive you while I was in control of the wolf. Can you not take time off for a holiday?" I ask, swallowing down some of my spiked morning drink. I needed to calm down, not let the anxiety mount in my throat, not show him how weak I could be. 

Nearing him, I set my mug down and traced my fingers over the lines of the sweater. "Surely a few days off can be explained away? You were going to do it anyway when you thought we were going hunting? Besides, someone like you doesn't need to rehearse. Please?" 

Glancing up at him through my lashes, I rest my hand on his hip, and he exhales in disbelief at my bold nature. Taking a finger of the whipped cream, I offer it to him. "Taste?" 

"You know I don't care for sweets." He isn't so convinced, but reluctantly, he grasps my wrist to examine the offering more closely. Sucking the whipped cream off my finger, he grimaces lightly and takes a wash of his tea to chase it down with. "That's straight sugar; you shouldn't eat that, darling."

Taking another finger full, I smear it on the corner of his mouth despite his protests. "Clumsy." I sigh at myself, pulling him down to me and using my tongue to clean it off before kissing him. He breaks the kiss and straightens to escape me, leaving me a little breathless. While the height difference could be frustrating, I loved that coaxing him to my level usually caused him to wrap his arm around my waist, pulling me onto my toes. 

"Alright! I will take some time off. Gods above, you are insatiable." 

Unfortunately, day drinking often made me this way—a small price to pay for a little bit of confidence. As much as I had hoped for my access to him, today wasn't included in that time off, and that mostly meant that he would bring me to work when we weren't at the Dead City. 

We go into town to buy more clothes and survey the damage; I stock up on winter attire and hoard his jacket since he seems uncomfortable with so many layers on. Fresh snow had begun to fall, and the town was painted in white; I hooked my elbow in his, pulling a hat over the top of my hair and murmuring a concealing spell when too many people seemed to notice. 

While it wasn't the best, it should put up enough glamour to change my appearance to anyone save for the two of us. 

It feels good to have clothes of my own that I picked and to choose things for him as well; I try not to notice when he excuses himself briefly only to return with a small black bag. His height thwarts all attempts to attain the bag, and it's all but forgotten when he suggests a picture in front of the massive tree lit up in glittering lights in the center of the small shopping plaza. 

What a strange holiday.

 With our height difference, getting a picture together is complex, so instead, I drag him to me by his scarf and kiss him. While he wasn't quite a 'celebrity,' he was becoming well-known, and it was almost like being back in our own time. As I scanned over the pictures, tapping and cursing as I tried to figure out the device's secrets, he stepped to the side to answer his phone. 

"Thank you, Ron.- Yes, I saw it; I'm here with him.- Well, you know what they say.- Yes.-Yes-" He glances at me, and his cheek dimples in amusement at my inability to operate such an advanced phone. "I wasn't listening to you. Repeat that.- Oh. Good.- Alright." 

He hangs up and stuffs the phone into his pocket with an exhale, running a hand through his hair. "It would appear that the band Reining Fire didn't realize I was their opener, and they wanted to meet up. Neither did Ron. Would you be interested in attending a dinner with me tonight?" 

I hesitate, mulling it over. 

"What kind of band are they?"

"I ask you on a date, and you want to know semantics? What a tease." When I offer up little in the form of amusement, he opts to continue. "It's a metal band.  It's not my scene, hence the need for rehearsals-" 

Sensing my annoyance, Verando chooses peace of violence and lets it go, wrapping his arm around me to kiss the top of my head. "Also, that kiss made television. I look like quite a harlot, kissing an unknown man, not even a week after my fiance dies.." He points out one of the large screen TVs where they are already talking about holidays' effect on people. "So. Yeah. You're coming to dinner."