queenking | open post

The thing is -- Sam had helped out. A lot. Fixing the video game had been a secondary thing, really, it had been the sheer novelty of calling someone and having them just appear, ready to assist, weird magic-y shit and all. Saxsice wasn't used to that. She'd spent her entire adult life learning how to be a pack of only one, how to rely solely on herself, and she was pretty good at it. When Ryan had shown up on her doorstep, she'd learned to be a pack of two, how to undo the old habits and wounds that their family had inflicted, and that had been that.

But she'd forgotten about the middle ground. About that place between "you're part of this family and you have no identity of your own" and "you have nobody and you need nobody". About having friends.

So that had been the best part, ultimately. And even if she was clumsy and awkward about it, Saxsice genuinely wanted to preserve this new friendship thing as best she could. Hence -- periodic emails, photos of weird-looking cats she saw on her walks, a few questions about the nutritional value of raccoons and, eventually, a text that read:

hey i got u rabbits u want them
i'm gonna eat them if u don't
so
lmk

Every email Saxsice had sent got a reply; sometimes rushed, sometimes expansive, sometimes only an image, and this last category indicated Sam had saved a disproportionate number of pictures of cats dressed up like little wizards. She never explained why ~~and never would, even if asked.~~ Sam had sent her a few emails unprompted, too; some detailed music festivals (they'd joked about having Ryan work through Folk on the Rocks, after all; more seriously, Sam opined someone so unobtrusive and watchful could be a great security coordinator, or med tent support) while others addressed snow stuff, like the Snow King's castle and skidooing.

'You should know, Ragged Ass Road is a real place. :) ' was one in its entirety.

The texts Saxsice sent were answered, too---always eventually, though the time it took was very, very variable. Sometimes the delay was due to Sam's job, or Sam's other job, or drive times, and once the initial answer was 'sorry, ghost (very friendly, we're good) was youtubing Bob Ross and I didn't have the heart to interrupt.' This latest text didn't get an answer... and didn't get an answer... and didn't get an answer until an emphatic knock came at the door. When that door opened, Sam was there, pleased with herself and asking "Those rabbits, they still alive, or...? And hi! How y'been?"

The cats were hilarious, once Saxsice figured out they were sourced from someplace on the internet, and not all photos of pets Sam inexplicably had -- that's too many cats for any one person, honestly. The music festival ones got read aloud to Ryan, who placidly accepted his new role as security coordinator at the ripe old age of ten, up until he remembered child labor laws existed.

Any questions about the ghost were shelved for the time being, because it didn't seem polite to intrude, and while she was brash and loud and impatient, Saxsice wasn't rude. Not that worries about rudeness would've stopped her from double-texting, normally (the idea that that was rude made zero sense to her), but some new life events suddenly, abruptly, violently took over her time and she'd actually forgot the rabbit offer until the knock came at the bar one night.

Maybe it was weird to hang out in her business when it was closed, but the life events had Saxsice restless, pacing back and forth and cleaning stuff to keep her mind occupied. The upstairs was cleaner than it had ever been, so she'd moved on to the bar. The knock startled her until she recognized the scent and bounded forward, a rush of relief coursing through her.

"Hey! I didn't know you were comin' down!" What comes next isn't quite a hug, or any typical greeting -- more of a very gentle headbutt, like an affectionate wolf might give to another wolf, Saxsice's fluffy golden head bumping against Sam's briefly, before she hops back and starts putting away the cleaning supplies. "Hell no, they're in the deep freezer on the porch. Hidden under the bacon, didn't wanna freak the munchkin out. He's makin' noise about goin' vegan on me."

for @ 10_20_15_5_50

a day On the Rocks is closed, or before opening?

works for meeeee~

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