We have a body count.

What began as an Isolated Incident is now a Sequence of Events. Five people dead. All in self defense, but still. And we don't even know their names.

Really hope that's the end of it. These South Side Long Shots keep getting banged up every time they run into us. If they're losers like Tsu'na said Myra's guy called them, they can't be that big of a gang. Five guys might be a third of them gone, or even half of them.

I wonder what Clive told them. It probably would have sounded like meth ravings to them. If they took anything he said seriously, all they'd know about for sure is the fights and Flying Tigers. They should be pretty sure Tony's useless, though he does know about Murray's and the names of the guys. If they decide they're on a Mission from God and follow the chain far enough all they'd get is my gvoice number. Though they might amass a body count of their own.

Very tempting to think she should have just kicked down the door and gone in swinging. But maybe the fact that she didn't sends a message. Don't fuck with us.

Wonder what that is in Latin. Might make a good family crest.

Who would I talk to about this? Tsu'na talks to me about it, but what makes me qualified to be talked to about moral issues? I don't really see myself stepping into a confessional and saying, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I killed two more people in self-defense." Emphasis on the "more."

Should I mention that I've killed gods? For all I know, God is a primal. Maybe that's why there's no big aether crystals lying around.

Tsu'na talked with me over breakfast. She didn't want to talk last night...just told me to hold her, so that's what I did. Most of the tension in her just vanished while we cuddled, but I could tell she was too preoccupied to sleep. But she didn't talk before I dropped off, and she didn't wake me to talk. I woke up still holding her.

"Omelette?"

"Yes, please."

It was clear she was angry, but I couldn't quite tell if she was angrier about having had to kill, having had those idiots place her in that position, having once again run into a problem we kept thinking was over with, or hearing she was expected to lose a fight. I think she was also angry about all of it happening at once and how muddled she was over it.

I think that last one was a little new for her. Violence was our stock-in-trade in Eorzea. Along with all the crafting and gathering and occasional investigating, it's what we knew how to do. Having to second-guess herself in a new world can't be fun. Especially when popup violence makes it look like the old world.

Aside from telling me what-all happened over breakfast, she seemed disinclined to open up about feelings, so I decided to distract her. Google said there was a Barnes and Noble in Tulsa. I proposed a shopping trip with food trucks for lunch.

The store blew her away. The Wyatt library is tiny compared to a decent county library, but a good B&N can dwarf that. It wasn't the Great Gubal Library, but on that note it also didn't have imps and golems and sentient books and gremlins and psychotic frogs. It did have art stuff and games and collectibles and music and a coffee shop and a children's section. (To be fair, I don't know Gubal Library doesn't have a children's section. Or a coffee shop...something has to keep the frogs hyped.)

She kind of wanted to have a pie in the coffee shop and keep on browsing, but she let me drag her out to a nearby shopping center with food trucks in the parking lot. Burgers, subs, barbecue, Mexican, seafood (despite the nearest sea being five hundred miles away) and kabobs.

Tsu'na ordered a lamb kabob, and waved it in front of my face when she got it. "Not everything must be pies, Husband. This is a pie on a stick."

"Make note of the ingredients. We can stick them in a pie."

"This is what you meant by 'food trucks'?" She looked around. "We could do this with our pies. It would be easier than the diner. There are no tables to clean."

"Sure. All we'd need are driver's licenses, business licenses, food service permits, permits to park a truck somewhere and health code inspections. Oh, and a truck."

"Perhaps we could use your winnebago."

"Haven't finished building the ultralight yet."

"Hm. A food airplane?"

"That would...certainly get people's attention."

We found a bench to settle on and eat. After a few bites I asked, "Feeling better?"

"I have accepted that the Long Shots wrote their own story. I simply wish it had not included me."

"Fair enough. And Myra?"

"I will talk with her. Perhaps she does not understand my concern."

"You can tell her you've already been pulling your punches."

"Yes. I still do not know if The Grinder survived."

"The Grinder?"

"The first man I fought. He was coughing blood afterward."

"How many times did you hit him?"

"Once."

"Gotcha." I wonder just how much she'd need to pull her punches to actually lose. And not make it look like a sissy slap fight. "Well, speaking of the ultralight, I'd like to get some more work done on it while it's still light. Coming with?"

"I would like to play the game some while I am in town."

We finished eating, we hugged, we kissed, we went our separate ways. I Returned and went to the shed and worked on assembling what I guess is the fuselage until the sun went down. I'm only now wondering why I haven't thought of exterior lights before.

So many things to do. And now I think I have a couple more.