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Verdy was busy.

Also currently invisible.

Somewhere under, past or between the piles of ribbon, wrapping paper, scotch tape and scissors she was tying the final bow on the final gift. Choosing, wrapping and mainly keeping things a secret was dreadfully difficult so she had snatched the alone time to finish off her gifts for that fabled time of year. Last year’s events tickled at her mind and she paused frequently to check her phone for hot news topics. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be involved if someone spawned another clay monster, and she rubbed the c-shaped scar on her arm thoughtfully.

Perhaps it was better to just stay out of trouble.

Sighing her contented completion she scooped all the supplies into a neater pile and swished said pile under the bed. There, dealt with. She glanced at the time and stretched out her neck and shoulders, who’d have guessed that wrapping gifts could be so draining? Wriggling feeling back into her cold fingers she looked up and was met by the face.

The face, or mainly the eyes, demanded something from her. The mouth provided the answer to the puzzle of what the face wanted. Jack was offering her his lead with an expression of such pitiful longing that she had to chuckle. The chuckle was immediately followed by a rummaging for her coat and boots, for when the face was pulled, who was she to deny.

~~~

Mainly she just wandered behind Jack, happy to follow him on their little adventure until she was tired enough and he had had his fill of exercise for the evening. She was fairly sure she couldn’t get lost, with enough trips back and forth from the mansion she knew all kinds of strange landmarks to look out for when trying to navigate a way home.

Yes home, for it is (as they say) where the heart is, and with Jack, both the Andy-s and her assorted other friends, the mansion truly did feel like a home. It was this pleasant thought which was occupying her mind when Jack began to whine and tug on his lead and she heard a strange sound, like a car being scrapped, or an accident without the tell-tale squeal of breaks.

She was uncertain what they might find as they hurried toward the commotion, but she was glad that she had packed a first-aid kit (or at least the main essentials from one) loosely into her bag which swung at her side on every stride. Last time, she had dived in unprepared. This time she was ready.

Or so she thought.

Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn’t been the smell of crushed pine needles, or the thud of footsteps unlike any other she had heard. It certainly hadn’t been a whole group of walking Christmas trees. It could have been an elaborate Christmas stunt, pulled off by a mutant if it wasn’t for all the property damage. Besides which as far as she could tell none of the trees were decorated, which would have been fitting if it were specifically a Christmas related show.

Then again perhaps a mutant’s powers had suddenly manifested, or decided to run wild, and the first or only available outlet was in making trees pound the pavement with their rooty legs in what seemed quite a dignified march if not for the occasional scream or car alarm wailing in confusion. Or the sudden roar of a chainsaw.

Last time she had been stupid. This time she had her baby to take care of. She crouched beside Jack and told him to sit. She wasn’t sure if his ‘fetch’ instinct was on overdrive, or if he was simply excited by the sheer absurdity, but his nose twitched frantically and his tail beat against the pavement with an audible slapping sound.

“We’ll just wait and see for a bit.”

Putting herself in danger was one thing. Putting the life of her four-legged ‘baby’ in possible jeopardy was a totally different kettle of fish… or street of trees.

Andrew’s move to include Jorge in the joke kisses surprised her, but she recognised its cleverness. It implied and reinforced the “just friends” deal they had going on, for if the victory kisses and/or spontaneous protective squeezes were available to Jorge too they clearly weren’t serious. Why not share the love… and cooties… with their mutual friend as well as each other. The nonchalance of the offer to share was somewhat negated by Andrew’s checking that it was alright by her and re-raised all the questions about what they were to each other.

“Doesn’t bother me.”

The lie was carried off with perfect sincerity, for it was only a half lie, a confused and mixed-messaged lie based purely on the confused and mixed messages the rest of her was receiving. Half of her didn’t care who Andrew was lip romping with, the other half wished to shove him into a shoebox under her bed and guard him possessively. The sane, and socially acceptable, thing to do in a situation such as this was simply to wait it out, act naturally neutral and figure things out bit by bit. His murderous confession was a start, boxing together the next step. Plus it gave her the opportunity to biff him for all the muddled signals. It was only fair.

Taking her cue from the two men she moved with them to the area which seemed set out for boxing. She was silently grateful for the row of weights machines which blocked the two treadmillers from view. While they had come here to box getting into a brawl over nothing more than harmless wandering eyes seemed both uncivilised and pointless, serving only to get them thrown out.

As Jorge rummaged in his gym bag she drew out her own pair of gloves. They still had that strange smell like the inside of new shoes and were a little stiff, despite her efforts to break them in a little by pummelling a pillow. Wrangling the Velcro wrist straps into place with her teeth she looked up and nodded at the instruction. A punch to deal with an unknown force.

Despite her research in the library she was certain her form, posture and technique were all off, but the power was there. Any and all scraps on the street were dirty, throw in as much pain as possible then get out, if Jorge had asked for a quick nuetralisation demo there would have been a lot more kneeing in the groin and a lot less attempted follow through with the rest of the body. The books and the internet had both indicated that punches were supposed to come from the feet. How, she wasn’t certain, but the intent was there.

Verdy checked the piece of paper with her directions scribbled on it then pushed it into the side pocket of her gym bag. Not far now. Finding gloves hadn’t been too difficult, and with the help of the internet and some ‘hard copy’ researching in the library she had discovered that a few other items needed to join them in the bag despite Jorge’s suggested simplicity. Water and a towel plus a change of clothes, just in case, she wasn’t certain if this was contact boxing or cardio but either way it was bound to make her sweat and the thought of walking back to the mansion, with or without Andrew and Jorge, in sweaty clothes didn’t appeal to her in the least.

Finally she rounded the corner and spied the place. Hitching the waistband of her grey tracksuit pants up and tightening the drawstring she gave herself a quick brush down and checked the time. Not too early, not to late, she had judged her arrival to give her just enough time to scout out where the bathrooms were and find details on session payments. It seemed foolish, but she hadn’t checked with Jorge if he had a membership, or if it was a visit-by-visit type of deal.

After her minor distracters were dealt with she returned to the front of the gym to wait for the others. If they got caught up in a battle of the teasing who knew if they would ever get inside. It was healthy, she was fairly sure, that the two men gave each other a ribbing now and then but it was an affectionate form of teasing with no real malicious intent, she was certain that it was a male thing possibly linked to the gym, which also seemed to be a male thing, judging from the look one of the treadmill runners was giving her. Another gave her a saucy wink and she wasn’t sure if she should take it as a compliment of her loose green t-shirt, or storm across and sock him one. She scritched the base of her ponytail nervously and looked away, praying he would be distracted by his own reflection in a moment and forget about her.

Thank the assorted gods and the 'karen' on the phone at the computer repair place... puter seems to be working, posting shall be attempted tommorrow~

There was nothing quite like a big fried breakfast to sizzle away any leftover weirdness from the night, (supposedly the best greasy cure for hangovers too, however she was unsure as to the truth of that statement. It was something she was sure to experience eventually, and the results would be documented for future certain reference) so the cereal was out and the fried-fest was in.

She wasn’t in the mood for cereal anyway.

Putting the whole meal together could take a while, but if they worked as a team it shouldn’t be an issue to get it done before stomachs began growling audibly. She was certain there were hash browns in the freezer which only needed frying in a little oil, and there was always bacon in the fridge. Finding some tomatoes and bread to toast may prove a little more challenging, but the ingredients for pancakes were mostly the same as those for cookies, and she had made them in the kitchen before.

“Alright, but I might need a little help cooking it.”

If it came down to it and he really couldn’t cook he could be in charge of pouring the orange juice, or mixing things. He seemed capable enough though, and didn’t look like the type who would burn their hands off as soon as fry an egg. That was another thing the mansion had, real butter, none of that margarine, or other spreadable oils (unless that was to your taste, in which case there were tubs of all different kinds in the fridge too), pure salty buttery goodness to do the frying. Bring on the french toast.

“Oh yes, it’s not everyday you meet a chivalrous young man who’ll run to scrape your clumsy butt off the ground”

The bit about his own tumble didn’t need mentioning, the general air of the detective suggested that he would tease him mercilessly anyway, without that little tidbit. The teasing was friendly though, no undertones of hate or bitterness. She smiled, it was nice to be around people so at ease with each other, there was just a tone of understanding. Comfortably existing.

Jorge excused himself again after calling Lizzie over, and this time she didn’t feel bad about letting him go. Andrew wished him well and she nodded agreement to his sentiment. Friendly chap, he deserved to have a date with a nice lady. The fact that she was the mansion councillor was merely coincidence. They all lived in the same city, after all and a small world it was indeed.

His instruction to her was given with a serious expression, which she matched and added a solemn nod. She would have to look that up later and find out what it was, along with the other moves she was certain that boxers had names for. She had a bunch of reading to do, she was sure the library would have material on the subject. It was three stories high for goodness sake, and she was certain she and Andrea had wandered past instruction manuals and an entire ‘how to… for dummies’ section. Before they got stuck atop the shelves, of course.

Jack seemed, if it was possible, even more happy than usual, and somewhere she wondered if a dog could actually wag its own tail off. She doubted it, and was fairly sure that there was an operation done on the doggies who had stumps instead of real tails.

Andrew’s suggestion of a walk and then back home was met with a nod. It would be good to stretch her legs after the time sitting, and as the saying went, there truly was no place like home. Plucking the ball from its now sticky resting place on the bench she slipped it into her bag, fairly certain that it wouldn’t slime anything too important. Her charged phone was safely inside its sock, and there was little else of value in there.