We were low on maple, so I went out this morning to harvest maple. It was a nice, straightforward, zen-like activity that required a modicum of concentration and physical effort. After an hour and a half of chopping I got to the point where I was no longer certain I wanted to hospitalize "Master Shen".

I still felt he needed talking to, though. We didn't know him, we had no reason to trust him, we shouldn't have been too surprised that directions from a total stranger wouldn't work out as expected. But a betrayal of that sort nevertheless seemed particularly rude, and I believed it would be best if I disabused him of the idea that it was okay.

So I was back on the bus to Tulsa when I got a call from Sam saying Deputy Frank wanted to search our workshop. I didn't like the first impression of the man after the last Dewey incident, I didn't like how he'd been haunting us at the diner, and today I started to wonder what bug was up his butt about us that he used the testimony of a known ne'er-do-well as a flimsy excuse to investigate us.

This did not improve my mood, though it spread the focus a bit from "Master Shen." So by the time I got back to Flying Tigers, while I was still on the edge of seriously pissy, I was willing to hear him out.

He didn't have much to say, though. When I got there he was with a twentysomething blonde, getting handsy with her as he helped her with some sort of stance. Then he saw me come in and his eyes got wide. For a moment I thought he was going to use her as a shield, but he moved away from her and dropped into a stance of his own.

I just stood there with a forced smile that probably didn't reach my eyes. The blonde looked back and forth between us. "Tony? What's going on?"

A little tension bled out of me as I tried not to laugh. He really was a Tony. "Yeah, Tony, what's going on? I thought we were friends."

He shifted in his stance, though it looked like he was trying hard not to run. "Just get outta here. I don't want any trouble."

I kept smiling and took a step forward. "Well, neither did I, Tony. You know, when my wife and I went to that bar you sent us to, we didn't want any trouble. We certainly didn't want to get rolled."

"I don't know anything about that! Just leave, okay?"

"Can't do that, Tony." I took another step. "Not until we talk."

Something thwacked me between the shoulderblades. I turned to look at the blonde; she'd found one of those bamboo kendo swords. "You know those aren't supposed to actually..."

Then something thudded into my gut. From the way Tony was dancing back, I guessed it had been his foot. He darted in with a fast sequence of punches, which, to be fair, might have hurt someone who didn't have level 80 armor and forty to fifty times his strength.

As it was, all it did was bring him into grabbing range. I got the front of his gi in one hand and lifted. From a foot in the air he pounded at my arm with his fists while still trying to kick my torso. The blonde kept swatting me with the sword until I turned, still holding Tony, and snatched it away from her.

"This your girlfriend, Tony? Does she know you set up perfect strangers to get attacked in dive bars?"

He was still struggling and still not speaking. I lowered him slightly until his eyes were level with mine and his toes brushed the mat.

"Why, Tony? Cut the crap and tell me why you sent us to a biker bar!"

"It's not a biker bar! You looked like you wanted a fight! I figured you'd get a fight there!"

"Trainer. We wanted a fight trainer. Not guys who'd take us out back and try to rob us."

"Well, call the police or something! That's not my fault!"

I lowered him onto his feet, but brought his face closer to mine. My voice grew soft. "I said 'try', Tony. Remember how I said we wanted to learn how not to kill people? That wasn't a good learning experience."

He went very still, though I could feel trembling through the gi.

I suddenly felt tired. Tony was an idiot, perhaps a dangerous idiot, but he wasn't dangerous to me. I was on the verge of swatting a fly with a wrecking ball.

"Okay...look. I'm going to do you a favor. I'm not replacing your BOB, but I'm walking out of here. I won't come back. Try not to endanger anyone else, okay? If I somehow hear you did, I might feel motivated to come back after all. Are we clear?"

He didn't answer. I took that for a yes. I let go of him, and nodded to the blonde. "Ma'am." Then I turned and walked out.

I settled in a Starbucks, got myself a stupidly expensive tea, and browsed on my phone some of the other studios we'd looked at before. Most were within reasonable walking or bike distance, so once I'd pushed Tony and Flying Tigers at least partially out of my mind I went to have a look.

Most of them weren't all that different. Rising Star Dojo had a weapon rack, some trophies in a case and people in black gi, but what I saw of a session looked very stiff and limited, certainly nothing like the Gladiator guild in Ul'dah. Nor did Meteor Martial Arts compare to the Pugilist guild. The other four I visited seemed par with them. Odds are, while they may be fine in tournaments on Earth, none of them would stand a chance in the field with an Eorzean vilekin.

All the browsing didn't leave me in the best of moods, and the Deputy Frank incident wasn't helping. I think at the time I thought it was a coincidence that I was back on the northwest side of town, but in retrospect the order I looked at studios did sort of lead there.

Still, the only likely reason I had for going back to Murray's was that I wanted to take my mood out on something. Or someone.

The bartender remembered me. "What happened to not seeing you again?"

"I just came for a beer."

"You didn't pay for the last one."

"...You're right. How much do I owe you?"

"Bar's closed. Get out."

I considered arguing with him, but didn't see the point. We hadn't made the best impression yesterday. I turned to the door just in time to see Mustache coming in. He stared at me in shock before blurting, "The fuck are you doing here?"

I met his eyes. "Leaving, apparently."

"You think so?" His right wrist was bandaged. He reached behind his back with his left hand and pulled out a gun, though it was clearly not his preferred hand. "You think you're just walking outta here after what you did?"

I sighed. I switched to Paladin and raised my shield. "Might want to get out of my way."

"...The fuck..."

I shieldbashed him. He had his pals behind him, but not a wall like Dewey, so he went down on his back with his gun sliding away. Choker and Shoulder looked down at him, then at me.

I heard a ka-chak beside me, and turned my shield to face the bartender, who had his shotgun out. I said, "Not a good idea..."

He pulled the trigger.

A shotgun blast is a lot more statistical than a handgun round. A single bullet can bounce off something and go in one direction, but a shotgun sends a bunch of pellets, concentrated at the core, which means an increased chance of blowback bouncing off a hard surface right back at the shooter.

The bartender screamed, dropped the gun and clutched at his face.

At that point I could have just walked out. None of them could have stopped me. But I had to admit that the situation was at least partly my fault...what did I think would happen by going back there? And too stupid to live doesn't necessarily mean deserving to die or be disfigured.

Shoulder and Choker were about to jump me, but stopped dead when I switched to White Mage. My glamour is more white suit than robe, but the staff is definitely mage-y. I gave them a brief glare before banging the staff on the floor and casting Cure on the bartender.

It was the first time I'd used White Mage on Earth, and certainly the first time I'd cast Cure on an Earthling, but it worked. He shuddered briefly before slowly lowering his hands from his now-unwounded face. He gently tapped on his cheeks and chest, then stared at me.

They were all staring at me, including Mustache, half-sitting up on the floor. I noticed Choker too had a bandaged wrist, and Shoulder's shoulder was in a sling. Since I was already dressed for it, I cast a Cure on each of them in turn.

I sighed again and shifted back to Earth normal. "Right. Bar's closed."

No one tried to stop me from walking out the door.

I picked an alley to duck down and Returned. I walked to the Pit -- "my" bar -- and went inside to ask for a cider. Sam brought a bottle out for me, studying my face. "Long day?"

"Someone pulled a gun on me in a bar in Tulsa. Does every dickhead in a bar have a gun?"

"This here's Oklahoma. Every dickhead anywhere might have a gun. Though they ain't s'posed to have 'em in a bar."

"So Dewey's in jail for that?"

"Nah, he claims he was drunk, so poor judgment an' stuff. Havin' a gun in a bar's a felony. Havin' a gun while drunk's a misdemeanor."

"You're shitting me."

"I shit you not."

"...You really know your gun law."

"I know my bar law."

I took the bottle out to the workshop. Tsu'na was there making steel rods for me to use as bike wheel spokes. There was already a set of steel tubes on the design table.

I settled on a stool across from her, set down my laptop and bottle, and started typing up the day. She stopped working and watched me. Cat TV.

"Husband?"

I sighed and told her about my day.

"What did you tell me about confused and upset hyur?"

"That we don't want to be around confused and upset hyur."

"You confused and upset some hyur today, did you not?"

"Yes, my love."

"Do healers in this world use magic?"

"I have never observed any doing so."

"Will your using magic confuse and upset more hyur?"

"Well, the bartender's not wounded, and that bar doesn't have cameras either, so I don't see how anyone would believe them."

She nodded thoughtfully, and contemplated the rod in her hand. "I am making bicycle components for you. Perhaps you should concentrate on making your bicycle. It should be constructive and instructive and not confusing or upsetting."

"Have I mentioned how much I love your clarity of vision?"

"I would not fault you for mentioning it again."