Miles dug his shoe into the gravel, rolling back his sleeves to keep the fast-approaching spew of blood from his knuckles off the fabric. "Is that the best you've got?" He taunted, his opponent still wiping the red from their lips and reeling from the impact of Miles' punch.

Victoria gave a snort from behind him, leaning on the alley wall a distance from the fight. "Don't get too cocky, hot-shot, you busted your hand on his face."

"I'd like to see you helping," Miles shot back, catching the wrist of the arm rushing at his face before the ringed fist at its end could make contact with his face, "we're supposed to be a team."

"I'm just your backup." Victoria winced as Miles' elbow jerked up, whacking into the other fighter's jaw. "If I helped it'd be two verses one, it seems unfair. And I think you can handle this one on your own."

Miles knocked his opponent to the gravel by the back of their neck once their guard was down, panting, and glanced back bitterly at Victoria. "Of course I can, but I'd still like some help, y'know. One of these days you're gonna have to do something."

"Let's hope you learn to shut your goddamn mouth before that happens," Victoria laughed. "Maybe if you stop picking fights, you won't need me to help you win them."

Miles mocked her with his hand and kicked the back of the other kid's head into the gravel for good measure. "Yeah, yeah, I get this spiel twice a week from you, and I never follow through with it, I know. I'd just rather get cleaned up right now than listen to your lecture."

"Whatever," Victoria started towards where Miles stood, casting a wary glance at the crumpled form on the ground, but they seemed far from getting back up. "Are your parents home?"

"Unfortunately," Miles groaned, shaking his hands at the ground and dotting the gravel with blood from his knuckles, "Do you think they'll believe me if I tell them I fell off my bike?"

"How would falling off a bike split your knuckles and cut your nose? And you didn't even ride a bike here, they'd probably see you walk up and know you're lying." Victoria grabbed Miles' wrist and dragged him in a sharp turn. "But we can go back to my house, my dad won't ask too many questions, and we can get you cleaned up over there before your parents see and come up with something more believable."

Miles looked uneasy. "Your dad would immediately tell my dad when he saw me, though."

"Nah," Victoria waved her hand dismissively, "my dad ain't no snitch."

Miles bit his lip but didn't object, following her down the road and wiping the blood from the cut on his nose off on his hand. He started to say something, but a man walking on the other side of the street some distance away caught his eye. "Does that guy over there look like he's staring at us?"

Victoria turned and squinted, her lip curling up slightly. "Not him again."

"Yeah, I was just thinking that, isn't that the same guy from the creek? The one you're convinced voodooed up your frog or whatever?"

"I never said he voodooed Better Miles—who, by the way, you've never properly addressed by his name—but he certainly did something. I mean, you saw him, he was doing some kind of magic shit, and he has black eyes! Your dad said that's a tell-tale sign of corrupt magic!" Victoria crossed her arms and stared daggers across the street, her eyes following his casual gait. "He probably did some horrible spell on him, like if he dies, I die, or—"

"He was just helping us catch the stupid thing," Miles snapped, "and you glaring at him like that is just giving him all the more reason to look over here, so knock it off. You can't hold a grudge just because you think there's a minor chance he did something to your frog—"

"Great, and now he's crossing the street," Victoria grabbed Miles' shoulder and said much quieter, "we're both a lot bigger than he is, though, we could probably take him—"

Miles shook away from her grip. "Victoria, we are not going to fight a grown-ass man! I bet he's not even gonna threaten us, a kid covered in his own blood is bound to get anyone concerned, he probably just wants to see what's up."

"Is this Miles turning away from a fight?" Victoria sounded pleased with herself, "I thought I'd never see the day that happened."

"Shut up, Vic, now isn't the time for—"

They stopped dead in front of where the man had paused and blocked the sidewalk, their conversation cut short. His hand rested against his cheek and his brow furrowed, frowning as though he'd heard everything they'd been saying and wasn't amused. Miles though he looked awfully tired. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly, "You're...bleeding."

"We've noticed, thanks. He's fine," Victoria cut in before Miles could answer, starting to step to the side to walk around him.

Miles' hand caught the back of her arm and stopped her. "I'm just heading home to get washed off, I sorta fell and got a little banged up," he said with a shrug, "my parents'll take care of it, though."

"Sure, sure." The man seemed to have another question on his tongue, but his lips pressed together as if to stop himself.

Victoria didn't wait to see if he'd decide to say it or not. "We'll be leaving now." She put a hand on Miles' wrist as a sign she was walking away, and he reluctantly followed.

"Wait," the man, now behind them, said suddenly, "are you...a Callis?"

Victoria's face shone bright red, his question taking her completely off guard. "Excuse me? A what?"

"I'm sorry, you look like...someone I know. I was just wondering if you, uh, were related to them." The man fumbled with his sleeves and shook his head. "Based on your reaction, though, I guess I'm mistaken. Sorry, never mind." He walked away quickly, as though filled with a sudden urgency, leaving Victoria standing stunned at Miles' side, his face twisted in equal confusion.

"Well, what did I say?" Victoria said after a pause, "He's following me, he's got a reason to keep running into us—he thinks he knows who I am."

Miles twirled his finger around a section of his hair and pursed his lips. "That's not necessarily true. Maybe he just happens to know your dad," he shrugged, "and maybe seeing you twice made him realize the resemblance."

"That's the weird part, though." Victoria frowned. "He didn't ask something like 'do you know Micah', he asked if I was a Callis. And that's—that's really weird, it's making me think it's not my dad he knows."

Miles mirrored her expression. "How would that be, though? Don't you have like, no aunts or uncles according to your dad? And your grandma is all the way in Florida—"

"I don't know, okay? I'm gonna ask my dad about it, though, that's for sure. He can figure this all out; he can figure anything out."

Miles bit his tongue and kept walking, glancing over his shoulder at the man, now on the phone and talking in casual, inaudible mumbles. The rest of their walk was in an uncomfortable silence, neither daring to try and revive any sort of conversation.

Victoria wrestled her keys from her pocket and unlocked the door, her father glancing over the back of the couch across the hallway at them as they walked into the house. "Yeesh, what happened to you? You look terrible."

"I fell," Miles responded quickly, taken off guard and unprepared with a lie, "I'm just gonna go wash off."

"You fell?" Victoria's father furrowed his brow suspiciously, his right eye narrowing to match his already-squinted left. "And, what, hit the curb head-on with your face?"

"Yeah, actually," Victoria cut in, Miles' face burning bright red beside her, "I tripped him as a joke, I didn't think he'd get as beat up as he did in the fall."

Her father's frown furthered. "Victoria—"

"I know, I know." She waved a hand at him and kept walking down the hall, dragging Miles behind her. "I already said I was sorry, you can scold me or whatever later." She pushed open the bathroom door and pulled Miles in front of her, examining his face in the mirror. "You don't look that bad, don't worry."

"I don't think he believed us." Miles frowned at the blood streaking down his nose, grabbing a towel and wetting it under the sink. "He had that...look on his face."

"He always looks like that," Victoria laughed, digging under the sink for bandages, "and it's fine, he's not gonna say anything about it, anyway."

Miles winced as he pressed the towel against his nose, groaning, "Are you gonna ask him about that guy?"

"Yeah, just gimme a minute, alright? I want to make sure you're all cleaned up before I do anything else."

"What's that supposed to imply?"

Victoria ruffled Miles' slick hair and laughed, "It implies that I care about you, doofus, as unbelievable as that is."

"I'm fine." Miles shoved at her shoulder. "Believe me, I've looked worse."

Victoria shoved his shoulder back in response. "Yeah, no kidding—you don't have raccoon-eyes today, for starters."

"Hey," Miles shot back, taking a bandage from her hand and peeling back the paper, "You don't wear makeup to a fight, it gets everywhere, and it's harder to tell if you have a black eye. It's just—it's inconvenient."

"Oh, yeah, sure." Victoria leaned her arm against the wall and tapped her nails on the counter. "How're you going to deal with your knuckles?"

"Cloth bandages?" Miles suggested, "Do you even have those?"

"I can ask," Victoria shrugged, turning for the door, "and I'll ask about that wizard-man, too." She started into the hallway, nearly running directly into her father walking the opposite direction.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you need something, Vic?" He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, straightening it, and ran a hand down his tie, as per nervous habit.

Victoria frowned. Had he been eavesdropping? "Uh, yeah, actually. Do we have any of those, like, long cloth bandages we could use for Miles' knuckles? They're all scrapped up, and normal bandaids don't really stick that well."

"Hm." Her father pursed his lips. "I don't think so, no. He probably has some at home, though, knowing Mr. Matthias. For now he can just hold a paper towel on them if he wants."

"Paper towel, right, okay," Victoria barely registered his answer, "One other thing—there's this...guy."

Her father's face contorted with a disgusted kind of confusion. "A guy?"

"I think he's been following us, he keeps showing up and trying to talk with us. He's, uh, the one that caught my frog, and today he asked if I was a Callis, which was...unnerving."

Anger replaced his confusion, his lip curling. "And what exactly did this guy look like?"

Victoria shrugged. "Black eyes, white hair, really short, and really weird."

Her father pinched the bridge of his nose, tilting back his head in annoyance. "Of course, of course it's him. Why wouldn't he find a way to barge his way into my life again? Hah! I should be surprised it took him so long, the little brat can't stay out of anyone's business very long."

"So you...do know who he is?" Victoria crossed her arms uncomfortably, her father's face reddening as he spewed insults.

"Know who he is? Vic, you've got fuckin' Mallory Celes following you, that rat."

"You say that like I'm supposed to remember who that is." Victoria furrowed her brow. "But I...don't."

Her father tapped his finger on his scarred cheek, squinting to even his eyes. "Ringing any bells?"

Victoria uncrossed her arms, straightening up. "That motherfucker?"

"Motherfucker alright," he groaned, shaking his head, "just don't—don't interact with him, got it? I don't need him getting involved with anymore of...this."

Victoria pursed her lips and nodded, turning heel to walk away. "Oh, and one more thing—" she glanced towards the door of her room and stared at it sadly, "do you think he might have cursed my frog?"

Her father shook his head and laughed, patting the top of her hair. "No, I don't think he did. I'm sure he has bigger things on his mind than Better Miles, trust me."

Victoria smiled a little and murmured, "That's a relief," as she leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. "Now, I think I better go get regular Miles a paper towel for his hands."