When Glee woke up, it was a little past dawn. They wandered to the kitchen and began to make breakfast for the three. By the time the eggs were halfway done, Glee realized that one egg per person wasn’t the most filling. They diced up some fruit for fruit salad and quickly toasted bread with their fire. By the time they’d finished with breakfast, Rags had emerged.

“Hey, Rags!” Glee said brightly.

“Shut up,” Rags said, yawning in the middle of ‘up.’ Rags had stayed up far after Glee had gone to bed.

“Oh, you’re a night person.”

Rags shot a glare at Glee and mumbled something.

Glee nodded knowingly and started boiling water in a kettle. Five minutes later, they set Rags’ breakfast in front of him, right next to a cup of coffee.

Rags muttered something along the lines of “thanks,” and began to eat. After the two had both eaten (and drank coffee), Rags was much happier.

Griff came out of the dorms, rubbing his eyes. He noticed food and immediately brightened, diving towards the fruit salad. He shoved food into his mouth. Glee noticed his teeth were incredibly sharp and seemed to be for carnivorous animals, like wolves.

With a mouthful of berries, Griff somehow managed to ask, “Do we got bacon?”

Glee laughed. “We have some, it’s just not cooked. I can slap that shh…shtuff in the flyin pan.” They frowned. “Frying pan.”

Rags seemed somehow shocked. “Wait-wait-wait.”

Glee turned back around, having already started moving towards the fridge. “Hm?” Glee responded above Griff’s giggles, occasionally saying ‘flying pan.’

“You-you’re our employer,” Rags said blankly.

“Oh! Right! Uh, don’t worry about it, the work isn’t dangerous or anything. I’m probably just going to have you guys be part of my show, maybe be the guys who are operating the fire canon—”

“You don’t have to act all nice if you’re our employer,” Rags said slowly.

Glee paused as they were putting the bacon on the pan. “Rags… what?”

“You don’t have to act nice if you’re our employer,” he repeated, sounding a bit more sure of himself now.

“Griff, make sure to also eat your egg! I can reheat if I need to!” Glee cleared their throat and turned back to Rags, Griff scampering around in the kitchen and swallowing his egg whole. “Rags, I don’t have to do my best in every show. I still do.”

Rags still didn’t seem to get the point. He struggled with words for a moment. “I- you- it doesn’t benefit you to…”

Glee sighed. “Dude, it also doesn’t benefit me to make you fight people to the death.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“...but it took time out of your day to make food.”

“Dude, I love cooking breakfast! It’s the one time of day I get to be alone and do something I like. Probably why you were awake by the time I went to bed, your time is at night, right?”

“Oh.”

Glee flipped the bacon with their hands. Upon seeing Rags’ surprised expression they exclaimed, “Dude, I washed my hands!”

Both Rags and Griff bursted out laughing. Glee was smiling as they flipped the last bit of bacon, not at all bothered by the heat.

A few minutes later, Griff approached Glee, tugging at their shirt. “Glee?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, what is it, Griff?”

“If you eat spicy food, since heat doesn’t care about you, does it still burn when you—”

“WOAH, Griff, I’m gonna stop you right there!” Glee said, laughing loudly. “And I don’t eat spicy food.” They added under their breath, “mostly,” as they pulled the bacon out of the pan, set them in a paper towel for thirty seconds, and proceeded to drown their piece of bacon in pepper flakes.

“Glee, that’s enough pepper, your piece of bacon is going to catch on fire,” Rags said as he held out his plate for his bacon.

Glee handed the bacon over, continuing to cover it in pepper. “Hey, I’m a Pyro. I can’t light on fire and neither can my bacon.”

Glee also gave Griff a plate with bacon on it, though it was just dirtying up a dish that didn’t need to be dirty—Griff ate his bacon in one bite.

“Well. Time to start the day.” They surveyed the kitchen. “Correction: Time to clean the counters. Griff, Rags, can you get your dirty dishes?”

“When I grow up, can I be a Pyro, too?” Griff asked as he put every dirty dish and pan he could find in the sink where Rags was washing them.

“Woah, thanks. And, uh, Griff, that’s not really how that works.” Glee responded.

“How does it work?”

“Well, if your mom was a Pyro but your dad wasn’t, you might be a Pyro. It’s fifty-fifty. If your dad was a Pyro but your mom wasn’t, you probably won’t be a Pyro, but there’s a chance. And if both were Pyroes, you’re inbred—I mean you’re a Pyro.”

“Oh. Which one were you?” Griff sounded vaguely disappointed, but still curious.

“Oh. Uhm. I-”

“Oh, yeah, Glee, what were you? You haven’t talked about your family at all.” Rags added.

“My mother was a Pyro but my father wasn’t,” Glee answered on autopilot. It was a ‘fact’ they’d made up years ago, and it wasn’t one-hundred percent untrue. The Pyromania DNA in their blood had been inherited from a female, while almost everything else had been either edited in or been inherited from a male.

“Ooh, cool! That means you got lucky!”

“Not too terribly lucky,” Glee answered, though they were nodding.

Their conversation continued until the dishes were done and Glee had finished wiping the counters and putting ingredients away.

“Well, we have a show tomorrow, because it’s been a few days since our last show. We normally do two or three in the same town before moving. So, tell ya what. We’re gonna practice. You guys are gonna be the people who operate the fire cannons. Rags, you remember my show. You saw the fireballs shooting towards me at top speed. You two get to throw the knives and operate the cannons.”

“Uh, Glee? Who was operating them before?” Rags asked hesitantly.

Glee shrugged. “Pixies, probably.” Despite their nonchalant words, Glee’s tone was slightly tinted with anxiety.

Griff gave an excited gasp. “Fairies? Do we get to see them?”

Glee laughed. “Griff, the pixies aren’t shooting at me because they want to help in the show. And, uh, trust me, you don’t want to meet fairies. Nastier than pixies.”

“Oh.” Griff didn’t seem to understand, but perhaps felt he’d look unwise if he asked more. Never mind the fact that he had just turned seven a few days ago.