Havenwood, NY

Anya had been holding a deep seated guilt ever since she had quietly threatened Ben after his crash landing in Zee's yard. While he'd been staying at her home, it had largely been while he was resting or she was working, and it wasn't until the day before that they had finally been able to sit and have the long overdue talk they needed. It had seemed to put them back on track, at least in her mind; she could see once again the bright eyed boy who had a painfully obvious crush on her daughter, and felt reassured he wouldn't betray them.

To build on their mutual good faith, she decided to stop by the store after she was done with her shift at the hospital. It was a recipe she recalled sharing with the Turner boys' mother a lifetime ago, one that had been reported back to her as quickly becoming Ben's favorite. She hoped it still was as she carefully walked the aisles, plucking ingredients from their displays and carefully arranging them in her basket. She saved the seafood for last, patiently waiting as the young man behind the counter handed her white paper wrapped packets of shrimp, clams, salmon, cod, and halibut.

Satisfied that she had everything she needed, save for a fresh loaf of bread, she thanked the young man and turned toward the bakery section, almost running into a man standing close to her.

"Oh, forgive me," she said quickly, before she froze, her brow furrowing as she looked up to see Ben standing there.

She opened her mouth to chastise him for being out of bed, until the realization struck her. It wasn't Ben. Her senses caught up to her; his scent was wrong, his hair was different... Her eyes went wide a the impossibility became the only option.

"Alex?" she asked, momentarily breathless. "It is you?"

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"You weren't there, RJ!" Becca whisper-shouted into the phone so she wouldn't draw attention to herself as she walked down Main Street toward her intended destination, flashing a smile while someone passed by her before her expression quickly changed back to it's annoyed, angry visage. Her footfalls were rushed yet clipped, a physical testament of her rage as she fairly stalked down the sidewalk. A few pedestrians scrambled to get out of her way as the werewolf quietly continued her tirade into the phone.

"She just yawned and rolled over after surveying the damage!" There was a pause before her eyes narrowed and she practically growled into the phone, "They were Jimmy Choo, RJ! Jimmy. Choo." Becca snorted and rolled her eyes in the next moment, "Well, obviously you don't know how much they cost before they end up in a consignment shop, doofus." There was another pause before... "That's not the point! Now I have to replace them and she knows how much I hate that kind of shopping!" Now Becca was just whining, muttering into the phone, "She's so lucky that Swinton woman is good at solving the weird shit that happens around here and that I'm pretty sure Zee would just murder me right back if I tried to murder her." It was at the moment the door to Belle's Boutique opened as the werewolf approached it, disgorging one of it's patrons at an inopportune moment and Becca mentally winced upon seeing Mrs. Weston's double take at the words murder her pouring out of her mouth.

Nervous laughter was quick to fill the awkward pause, "Haha, I'm just kidding, Mrs. Weston!" Louder into the phone the phrase, "You know how siblings can be. ByeRJ!" She said, abruptly ending her conversation with her brother and rushing past the woman and into the shop, breathing a momentary sigh of relief as the door shut behind her.

After decades of service to the Spring Court, Morgan was still glad that the Courts had made some unspoken agreement that plate armor was superior and that his own personal set was useful in his transition. What he could not understand or grow accustomed to was Liber's aesthetic for Roman clothing. For certain celebrations, Morgan was required to don the Roman inspired armor yet every time he wore it, he felt exposed without the remaining plate armor protecting his lower half. The comforting weight of chainmail was missed, the sound it made against the plates, and the whisper of his tunic was all familiar. It's absence throughout the celebration—A young Sidhe's debut—was sorely noticed to the Hellhound. The only assurance Morgan had was that Liber did not often require such attire from his guards and he was grateful when the evening was finally ending as he accompanied Aisling back to her suite.

As Captain and Princess walked in silence, they were accompanied by the banter of the four other guards assigned to protect her until Morgan called out, "Knock it off," as if he was having any other conversation. The command was followed by protests, "Aw, come on, Morgan! Don't you ever have any fun?" The Hellhound whirled on them, his action immediately ceasing any additional words with a stern look on his face. A beat passed where he looked at each guard until his mouth twitched into a smile.

Indicating to two of the four, "Clear her room and then you're dismissed. Be thorough!" He called after them as they scrambled for the door in a rush. Chuckles were accompanied his command and a hand clapped to his shoulder.

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