Alcuin took to lending the domestic slaves a hand when he was not otherwise occupied with the cabin or tending to the garden, especially when his master ran late at the clinic, or was seeing to his obligations to the pack. It kept him busy when he would rather not sit and stew over his troubles and at least some of the housework could be accomplished that much quicker with an extra pair of hands. Besides, one never knew when they might need the cooperation of the domestics – and domestics that were grateful were much more inclined to share gossip, turn a blind eye, and warn the others when need be.
Fortunately, he had always been handy with a dust cloth and knew how to polish what needed polishing, which freed the domestics to move on to another room whilst he dusted the living room. Alcuin had been scrubbing at a particularly troublesome spot on the mantelpiece when the angel breezed in through the foyer, his mere presence prickling the hair at the nape of his neck. “Ah,” he turned on his heel to face the unexpected guest, his gaze drifting briefly to the collar about his neck. “Hello. Is there something I can help you with?”