"So kiddo, I hear you almost got arrested."

Seth choked on a lasagna noodle. "What?!"

Her bare feet propped up on the coffee table, Mrs Beakor leaned back into her couch. She'd already finished eating. Her dirty plate and cutlery sat a few inches from her feet. It was unsanitary, but Seth had long since learned that she didn't give a whit about rules or manners.

"Tripp told me. He said the cops came for you at the diner."

Seth grasped for the mug of tea—Mrs Beakor thought tea went well with any situation, be it breakfast, lunch, snacks or even a late-night chat—and chased the offending noodle down. The weird spicy-sweet blend of tea didn't compliment the lasagna at all.

"They were just checking up on me," he finally said. Mrs Beakor lifted a single silver eyebrow. It was thick and scruffy like her hair.

"For what? You a paroled criminal or something?"

"No." Seth stabbed his fork into a chunk of lasagna. As if.

"Really?"

He shoved the lasagna into his mouth. Warm textures and a myriad of flavors distracted him for a moment, causing him to briefly close his eyes in bliss. Truly, no one ever made lasagna like Mrs Beakor did.

Once he swallowed, he gave her a sideways look. "My mother sent them to make sure I wasn't kidnapped or something. I kind of... left, and she doesn't believe that I don't want to go back."

"Hmm. I see." Some of the humor faded in her eyes, but then she leaned over and nudged him with her elbow. "Well, I think you're doing just fine on your own, kiddo."

Her observation had him ducking his head awkwardly. Was he? How could she even know? She'd only known him for a short time. He was trying his best, but sometimes, when he woke up in the late morning and he had time to think, it was the hardest thing to not curl up and cry.

He pressed the fork into the dwindling lasagna, cutting off a small chunk. Sauce squished out, red and dotted with green flecks of spice. It reminded him of a limb weeping red in the absence of its hand. He tensed, fighting to shove that image away. The color wasn't quite right, anyway. The sauce was too bright, too red, and besides, the texture was wrong.

The rest of his appetite left abruptly, but he made himself scoop up the food and shove it into his mouth anyway. He wasn't going to waste it, not when Mrs Beakor had made it especially for him. And not when she was watching him eat it.

"I'm doing okay," he said. "Things are a little better now."

He meant it, even though it felt like his world was barely holding together. Sometimes, in those mornings that were loud and awful in their silence, he ran gentle fingertips over the silvery scars on his torso and felt nothing but overwhelming gratitude. One part of his miserable life, at least, was over.

Next thing he knew, he was being crushed against a bony chest, frighteningly strong arms wrapped around him.

For a second, he remained frozen in shock. Then a wave of fire overtook his face and he struggled, beyond flustered. What was this crazy old woman doing?!

"Hey!"

She cackled and let him go. He scrambled back to his seat on the other side of the couch. His skin prickled, and his heart skittered in his chest. He stared at her, embarrassed and unsettled. Why had she done that? It felt strange. Uncomfortable. Different.

To hide his unease, he busied himself with shoveling down the last of the food. Since there wasn't much of it left, he quickly finished and moved on to his mug of tea.

"You know Tripp wouldn't have let anything happen, right?"

He looked up to see her watching him. She wore a weirdly gentle smile.

"I mean it, kiddo. If any of them try anything, we're here for you. I hope you know that."

That caught him so off guard, he blanked. When was the last time anyone had ever told him that? When had someone actually bothered to stand beside him rather than tower above him?

We take care of our own, a familiar voice whispered through his memories. Serious dark eyes shone confidently over easy smiles, a promise offered freely without hesitation. It was just a video game, and never once had he thought something like that could exist in real life.

And yet, here it was, an uncanny echo rippling through the reality before him.

It confused him. What had he done to deserve this? What did she want from him in return? He clasped his hands tightly in his lap, unsure of what to say.

"Um, thanks?"

"You're welcome," she said drily. "Now buck up, kiddo. You look like I'm scolding you or something."

"I do not!"

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say."

Not having a retort for that, Seth got up to retrieve the tea kettle from the kitchen. When he came back, he refilled both their cups, then set the now empty kettle on a stack of newspapers. They were several months old and already wrinkled from being used as a coaster for both tea kettle and warm casseroles.

"Thanks," she lifted her mug like she was toasting him, then immediately chugged down half of it.

He winced, fully aware of how hot the tea was. It was just short of scalding.

She exhaled loudly. "So, tell me. What else is new?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah? You seem different, though. If I had to guess, I would have thought you'd found yourself a girlfriend."

"I–what?!" Seth opened his mouth, then closed it, because there were no words to be found.

Mrs Beakor thought it was hilarious. She guffawed so hard, her bony shoulders shook and her chest heaved.

"Oh kiddo, you should see the look on your face!"

"Why would you–I haven't even–!"

Honestly. If he'd known she'd come up with such ridiculous questions, he would have stayed in his own apartment.

Actually, that was a lie. He was a slave to lasagna. He'd sacrifice anything for it, even his own dignity. Which, sadly, there wasn't much to start with.

"Okay, so no girlfriend yet. Then something else must have happened, hm? You can't hide those smiles from me, kiddo."

Seth eyed her warily. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, don't be shy. You can tell me anything. I promise I won't laugh."

Seth scoffed. "Yeah right."

"Okay fine, I probably will laugh. We old people gotta get our daily entertainment somehow."

He smiled despite himself. "It's nothing, really. I just found a new hobby, I guess. And there were some people at the diner that play too."

"Oh?" Her eyes practically sparkled with glee. It was rather frightening. "Play? A band? Are you going to join a band, kiddo?"

Seth kind of regretted opening his mouth now, but hey, at least someone was excited.

"No, it's just a game. My uncle gave it to me and...yeah. I've been playing it."

"Well, that's great! Look at you go." She reached out to ruffle his hair like he was a dog.

He swatted her hand away. It made her smile grow, the laugh lines only creasing deeper. In return, he tried to scowl at her, but somehow it turned into a little grin of his own. Apparently, her good humor was terribly contagious.

"Now then, why don't you go put on some more tea? I've got popcorn and we have a fun movie to watch." She turned sideways on the couch, and threw her feet on his lap.

Seth glanced at her bare feet resting on his thigh, more than a little disturbed, then stared at her. "I have to work in an hour."

"So what?"

"We can't watch a movie now. I'll be late."

"Then we'll start watching and finish it tomorrow. No big deal." She made a shoo-shooing motion towards the kitchen.

"But–"

One of her feet abruptly shot towards his face. He got a glimpse of bony toes with a concerning amount of wiry gray hair and yellowed toenails, and then less than a blink of an eye later, he was standing in the kitchen with wide eyes. A full-body tremor shuddered through him.

Gross!

Mrs Beakor called out from the living room: "Hurry up, will ya? It's about to start!"

Seth rubbed the side of his neck, then exhaled heavily. There really was only one choice here.

He made the tea.

***

"You're late."

Seth winced as he passed by Tripp, who was at the front counter. He wasn't just late, he was an hour late!

"Yeah, I'm sorry. She wanted to watch a movie."

"Ah." Understanding blossomed upon Tripp's face. "Say no more."

"I'm sorry," Seth said again, guilt eating at him. "I'll stay late."

Of course, Mrs Beakor wouldn't let him leave until the movie was over. She kept those horrifying feet of hers on his lap, and every time he tried to make an excuse, she'd try and stick them in his face. Those toes were a nightmarish weapon, and she knew exactly how to use them.

To Seth's surprise, Tripp only laughed. "Don't worry about it. I know how she gets. We'll dock it out of her pay."

"But she doesn't get paid."

At least, not as far as Seth knew. Mrs Beakor might have been a good friend of Tripp's, but she didn't actually work at The Grubbery.

Tripp waved it off. "It's fine. At least tell me the movie was good?"

"No, it was awful. It was about zombie animals who ate their owners."

"Yikes. That's worse than the sasquatch murder mystery she made me sit through." Tripp did an exaggerated shudder, which made Seth grin.

It was reassuring that he wasn't the only one who thought Mrs Beakor's movie tastes were bizarre. He didn't know how she ate all of her popcorn (and then all of his) to such a gruesome movie. The special effects were cheesy enough to be obviously fake, but the movie still had turned his stomach.

Seth continued into the kitchen. There was a lot of work to do in a normal 8-hour shift, and now he only had 7 hours to get it all done, thanks to a crazy old lady.

It took him a couple of minutes to hang his coat up on its hook, don an apron and hairnet, and wash his hands. Then he found Jake peeling a pile of potatoes.

That was usually his job, and seeing Jake do it made him feel bad. But the large man said nothing. He merely put down the potato and peeler he was working with, and returned to the stove, where he had a large pot of chili on the go.

Seth muttered an apology and took over the potato station. Jake grunted, his usual response to pretty much everything said to him. Yet Seth had worked with him long enough to start being able to decipher said grunts, and he understood that like Tripp, Jake wasn't upset.

Seth buried himself in his work, focusing on catching up to his usual tasks. He practically flew about the kitchen, dodging Jake whenever they got in each other's way, and prepared the simpler orders that Tripp called out.

When there was a lull in orders, Seth either prepped veggies for the next day or cleaned up, washing dishes, mopping the floor, and disinfecting utensils and counterspace that had been touched with raw meat.

The fun part about being the helper in a kitchen with only one other person (who happened to be the cook) working in it meant he had a lot of small tasks to keep up with. And oftentimes, he had to multitask, starting several little projects only to get constantly interrupted to do something else. It was something he was starting to get good at. And it wasn't all that difficult, really.

He just had to stay focused, and keep an eye on everything going on at once. A few times, he found himself smirking wryly; putting dishes away and making a rich strawberry sundae was a thousand times easier than healing a party of people who ran head-first into the fire. It was practically relaxing in comparison.

When he finished that day, he found a stack of pancakes topped with butter, maple syrup and a generous portion of crispy bacon waiting for him. Jake passed him a fork.

"Good work."

Seth took the fork, startled by the rare praise. But then his stomach growled and he couldn't wait any longer. The first bite was almost as good as Mrs. Beakor lasagna.

Almost. But not quite.

While he ate, he missed Jake moving to the kitchen door where Tripp stood, holding the door open. Jake murmured something to Tripp, so soft that Seth didn't even hear it. Both of them looked over to where Seth sat.

Feeling their eyes on him, Seth looked up, fork paused halfway to his mouth. "Did I miss doing something?"

Jake just looked at him, unreadable. Tripp, on the other hand, smiled easily.

"Not at all. Jake was telling me you worked well today. If being an hour late has this kind of result, I think I'm going to tell Hel to watch a movie with you every day."

Seth paled. "No, thanks!"

Eyes creasing, Tripp gave a loud laugh. "I'm kidding. I'd never do that to my worst enemy. Hel's a treasure, but even she's got some questionable tastes."

Seth nodded vigorously in agreement. "That's for sure."

He shoved another forkful of pancake into his mouth. His stomach seemed to suck it right in like a vacuum devouring its food. Even though he'd had an enormous feed of lasagna earlier, he was practically starving again.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Seth." Tripp left, and Jake followed, leaving Seth alone in the kitchen.

Picking up a piece of bacon with his fingers, Seth bit into it. In a couple of hours, he'd be back in Eliona. And maybe he was losing his sanity, because despite yesterday's events, he actually was looking forward to it.