After a quick summary of what Chad knew, the pair parted ways to go about their own business. Evidently, their encounter at the office was a lucky one -- the sheriff had been bouncing all over town to deal with problem after problem nonstop. He'd only been back to enjoy a sorely needed break and cup of coffee when Chad had interrupted.

With that out of the way, the arm wrestler was free to take care of his last errands. A quick stop by Richard's shop for basic bike repairs and the grocery store for food rounded out the trip nicely.

As he'd been warned, their shelves were starting to look a little bare -- particularly of first aid supplies, frozen foods, and toilet paper. However, he'd quickly discovered that some more supplies were available. Especially if he were willing to help out with the store's sudden labor shortage by moving some heavy pallets and other loads here or there. The brief help earned him some goodwill and free stuff besides. They'd even given him a box of iced coffees for the gas station attendants.

Just a few hours after he'd left, Chad found himself rumbling up the gravel path to Gram Gram's once more with a full backpack and igloo strapped to his bike. The sun hadn't even reached its apex in the sky.

Perfect. Means I'm home in time for lunch.

As he parked, Annie appeared in the doorway. She made her way down the creaky porch toward the arm wrestler. "Home already? Thought you'd take a bit longer."

"Nah. I didn't have too much to do." He hefted the igloo in one hand, then cocked his head. "Is that... music?"

"Ah, yep." Annie nodded. "Jerry's practicin' inside."

"Huh." Chad listened closer as they headed toward the house. "Sounds pretty good."

"He is. He got a college scholarship for violin and everything." Annie smiled, her chest swelling with pride. "Those're pretty competitive, too, from what I hear."

As they stepped inside, Chad spotted Jerry's lanky figure standing in the living room. The long sleeves of his pristine white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, his eyes closed in deep concentration. Under his chin lay the sleek wooden body of a violin, its color one of deep mahogany. His long fingers danced across the instrument's neck as his other hand guided a bow back and forth across its strings.

The pair closed the door quietly behind them, simply listening for a while. The soothing melody swelled and receded in waves. Longing, lyrical passages gave way to occasional flurries of hopeful notes that tugged strangely at the heartstrings.

Damn. He's REALLY good.

The music swelled to a dramatic crescendo before resolving on a triumphant sustain. With a final flourish, the piece was over. Jerry stood there for a moment longer as he let his bow fall to his side.

Quiet applause rose up from a nearby couch as Gram Gram began clapping. Chad joined in. "Encore! Encore!"

Unlike his grandma's, the arm wrestler's applause echoed through the house like thunderclaps, causing the Musician to leap back in surprise. As he spotted Annie and Chad though, he slowly relaxed. "Ah. Y-you're back."

"Yup!" Chad crossed to the kitchen to unpack the groceries. "That sounded pretty good, Jer-Bear!"

A flash of pride crossed Jerry's face, only to be replaced with a wince at the mention of his nickname. He sighed and knelt down, placing the violin into the case at his feet. "Pretty good. I'm not nearly at the level that I'd like to be, though."

"I dunno, I think it was great." Chad shrugged. "Right, Gram Gram?"

"Oh, yes, dearie." The woman smiled beatifically at Jerry. "Why I don't think I've heard anything so beautiful since... well, certainly since before my hearing started to go."

"You're gettin' better, at least." Annie beamed. "Better than you were as a kid, definitely."

He snorted. "My childhood capabilities are hardly a fitting reference point, sister. My aims lie higher than simply sounding 'nice.'"

Chad pulled out a few cans from the igloo. "How long you been playing for?"

"Thirteen years."

"Thirteen? Damn." Chad whistled.

"Our parents got us both on music lessons when we were four or five." Annie nodded. "I hated it. He stuck with it, though."

"Indeed." He smiled wryly. "Much to their dismay."

"Wait, why?" Chad frowned. "They got you into it in the first place, didn't they?"

Jerry shrugged. "Music is a useful skill to learn, but not the most valuable occupation. They wanted me to find a real job. To become a lawyer or a doctor, perhaps. Something respectable that makes a lot of money." His voice went quiet as he muttered to himself. "In fact, I'm certain my mother still holds out hope that I'll change my mind..."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Annie's grin turned forced. "Sorry about that, by the way. Guess they put their expectations on you when I went my own way."

"It's not your fault," Jerry straightened, running a hand through his dark hair. "Besides, it doesn't seem like their efforts have stopped either of us."

"Yep. Guess so."

Annie chuckled a bit as Chad thought to himself. Thirteen years... That's longer than I've been arm wrestling for. He spared an appreciative glance Jerry's way. Wonder how much better I'd be if I started that early?

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"Sounds like you're pretty lucky." Chad shot the guy a thumbs up. "Not everyone figures out what they wanna do so quick. It took me ages!"

"I suppose that's true..." He ran another hand through his hair, more nervously this time. "Starting young practically feels like a requirement for those at my level, though. If I want to be truly great, I still have a long road ahead..."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "That's what you're worried about right now? Really?"

"I... fair point." Jerry let out a sigh of frustration. "I can't help it. Music has been my focus for so long. Besides, what else am I to do? There's nothing I can contribute here, even if I were a fighter of any sort."

The statement was not only true, but reinforced by his traits as well. The Musician class had left the guy with a skillset that wasn't exactly useful for anything fighting-related. Live Performer increased the effectiveness of performances with his instrument, while Summon Instrument allowed him to -- astonishingly -- make his instrument appear in his hands at will.

The problem with Live Performer was that 'effectiveness' didn't seem to reference any stat boost or tangible results. If anything, it just made his music more impactful. It meant that Jerry could, at best, be classified as a support of some kind. But not really. Not until he earned some skills.

"Well, I don't think you'll be performin' anytime soon, Jer. I kinda doubt you'll be gettin' back to school either…"

Chad peeked over from the pantry. "Maybe you can help scout or coordinate stuff or something? That's how Squawk gets experience."

Jerry's eyes narrowed. "Why do I need experience? I understand the desire to defend oneself, but I somehow doubt that more levels will make me a better fighter…"

At Jerry's glare, Chad shook his head. "It's not about making you a fighter. It's to make you better at violin. That's what you really want, right?"

The younger man's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Chad," Annie complained. "You already dragged his ass outta danger once. D'you really want to drag him back into it?"

"I'm just saying!" He raised his hands defensively. "I mean, I'm not saying he's gotta go brain things with his violin. But why not level and get some dexterity or charisma or whatever the heck the 'being good at violin' stat is?"

"...You've got a point," Annie remarked. "I mean, I definitely feel like my aim's better since I started dumping stuff into dexterity. But still, that seems way too dangerous. Especially when Jerry doesn't even want to fight. Right?"

She glanced back at her little brother. Rather than the instant agreement Chad had expected though, the Musician wore a thoughtful frown on his face.

"...Do you think that works?"

"Uh..." Chad gestured to his arm. "Do you think it doesn't? And I mean, just look at Squawk. He's smarter than I am, by a lot. All stats. Well, probably."

"...I suppose..." Jerry said slowly.

"You can't be serious," Annie objected. Her exasperation was evident. "You've been totally against fighting this whole time! You can't tell me that this changed your mind?!"

Jerry seemed to come back to himself. "Of course not. As I said before, I'm no fighter." His gaze fell to the floor. "I just... found myself interested in the prospect. I hadn't considered the possibility before."

"Well, get it out of your head." Annie crossed her arms. "You're the worst shot I've ever seen, and frail as a glass snowflake besides. One of those pigs would've snapped you in half like a dry twig."

"I can teach him to shoot!" Chad offered. "Or maybe you should. Teach Squawk too, while you're at it. We could all go on a hunting trip!"

"That's... quite alright." The words came reluctantly, as though they'd been dragged out of Jerry's mouth. "My sister is right. No point in recklessly endangering myself. Though..." He hesitated for a moment longer. "If there is another way to level…"

"Just say the word!" With a final grin, Chad turned back to Annie. Her expression screamed worry at the prospect of her brother changing his mind.

You have displayed intermediate knowledge of how to convince people that something is actually a good idea, trust me bro. Persuasion (D) proficiency earned!

Whoops. Well, it's better than him being a wet paper towel and dying. Maybe she'll come around to it.

"So." He called Annie out of her thoughts. "Lunch, then wanna check out Paw Paw's workshop?"

"Of course." That brought a new smile to her face. "I want to see what kinda crazy stuff he hid in there."

***

A short while later, the pair headed toward the edge of Gram Gram's property, leaving Jerry with the old woman. They weren't particularly worried about the arrangement this time. They'd be nearby if anything went wrong, not to mention that Squawkers was still patrolling above. If anything looked fishy, he'd let them know.

Paw Paw's workshed was in fact a large barn near the very back of the ranch. Its faded brown exterior was tucked behind a copse of trees below a small rise, hidden from view unless you knew where to look. The feat was doubly impressive considering the building's size. It was practically as big as Gram Gram's house itself.

As they trudged through the trees and toward the building, Annie spoke up. "So, your gramps didn't let you in here?"

"Nope."

"Not even once?"

"Not even once," Chad confirmed. He scratched the stubble on his chin. "I was kinda a little shit though, so can't blame him. He probably thought I'd mess around and break everything."

"Well, d'you know what he worked on?"

"Uh... machine stuff, I guess? I know he repaired some of the neighbors' tractors and stuff, so that's my best guess."

"...Huh." Annie pondered that for a moment. "Well, guess we'll see soon enough."

They stopped in front of the barn's doors. The aged brown slabs loomed large before them, their paint peeling slightly to reveal bare wood beneath. The entrance was sealed shut, its doors held tightly together with a heavy padlock and chain.

Annie nudged Chad. "Think those keys'll work here?"

"Maybe. Let's see." Pulling the four rings from the garage out, he started with the most obvious candidate -- the padlock key. After a moment of jiggling though, Chad shook his head. "Nope. No luck."

They tried the other keys just in case before Chad gave up. "Well. Time to break in?"

"Seems like it," Annie agreed. "You sure your gramps wouldn't mind?"

"Nah." A mischievous grin curled across his lips. "And if he does, not like he can do shit about it."

With that, Chad reached out and pinched the padlock with his right hand. The metal body collapsed like aluminum foil under the force as the lock's shackle snapped. Unwinding the chain from the door handles, he dropped it to the ground and gently slid the doors apart.

The dark interior of the barn greeted them like a gaping abyss. The faint sunlight streaming into the space illuminated the edges of large shapes, their forms covered with tarps. Motes of dust drifted through the sunbeams lazily.

Chad turned to Annie. "Ready?"

She nodded. "Let's go."

The pair stepped inside.