“That I have, you donkey!” Pip Willows jumped up happily from the cushion he was seated upon with his arms outstretched. “What’s that all over your face?” He squinted his eyes, seemingly to enhance his view. “Beards?! Heh, did the city make you finally grow some? They couldn’t keep me from noticing you though. Just took me only a sec, you know?!”

“Ah, this…?” Elmer chuckled as he waddled closer into the living room, his left arm wrapped tightly around the paper bags of foodstuffs he’d bought. “It’s not real.”

“Not real?”

At that moment, Mary hurried toward Elmer to take the purchased foodstuffs from him, the flat, metallic tray she had used to serve Pip his coffee, held gently between her arms and bosom.

But the young man of the house, who was still overjoyed from seeing his old friend, stopped her with a sharp shake of his head, and made use of that opportunity to allow Pip’s question to be lost in the air.

He did not want to touch upon the reason for his disguise just yet; at least not until he and Pip had caught up on old times. And… Mary was here.

“How do you intend on carrying these with the tray in your hands?” Elmer asked, the wide smile he had during his entrance still on his face.

“Ah!” Mary Thatcher exclaimed, her eyes widened as though she’d had no idea of the existence of the tray she was holding, and it had just appeared suddenly in between her arms and chest. “I… I should put this down first, shouldn’t I?”

“That you should, Mary,” Elmer agreed. “That you should.”

“I’ll get to doing that now!”

And the young lady of the Thatcher surname vanished into the kitchen through the dining room as soon as those words left her lips.

“Heh, Lovely Mary is rather forgetful, isn’t she?” Pip chimed in with his soothing, cheery voice, his eyes firmly placed on the simple partition Mary had passed through to get to the kitchen on the other side of the room. He looked to have forgotten his questions.

“Lovely, huh?” Elmer scoffed. “You’ll never change, will you?”

Pip turned to Elmer, furrowed his brows, and threw his head backward in repulse at those words.

“Change?” he said in a manner that made it seem as though his tongue was currently of a bitter taste, one tantamount to that of raw cocoa. “Is that something I’m to know?”

Elmer shook his head, his expression still evident with brightness, even though his weakened state never ceased to seep out.

“No,” he answered Pip’s question. “It’s a word you’re to learn.”

Pip blew a raspberry and waved Elmer away as he fell back down on the cushion he had been seating on. Mary finally returned then. She took the paper bags from her master and once again vanished out of the sights of the young men in the living room.

She was quite quick, at least considering that Pip couldn’t follow her with his eyes through her scurry.

That was quite a feat. If only Mary knew who Pip was she would have been quite proud.

“So,” Elmer dragged his best friend’s attention back to himself—his only friend. “How was the journey?”

He took off his scarf, and then his gloves, putting the latter into the left pocket of his jacket—which he had taken off too—and loosened the knot of his tie. He then sat on the cushion perpendicular to Pip’s seated spot, placing his right arm on its rest.

“Heh. Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, you know?” Pip chuckled, and Elmer raised his brows as if to say: ‘really?’

Considering he’d been the first of them both to travel, unless Pip had encountered something extremely fascinating, then there was nothing he couldn’t believe. In fact, he’d experienced far greater things than the thrills of travels; most not exciting.

“What’s up with you though? You’ve got large dark bags beneath your eyes. Not enough sleep last night?” The latest relocator from the countryside took out a plain silver coin from his pocket and began to flip it continuously.

I’ve not had enough sleep for more than a month now… Elmer retorted to himself.

But since he couldn’t tell his best friend that, he only laughed it off and replied with, “Something like that.”

“Hmmm… Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep then?” Coin-flipping with his right hand, Pip used his other hand to play with the shadow of a mustache that was slowly becoming visible above his upper lip.

Elmer could see what his friend was trying to do there, so the edges of his mouth only curled further upward. But at least that little play of Pip’s reminded him that his postiche was still on his face, and, as well, its itches.

He took it off then—immediately.

Pip jerked his head backward at the sight, but only for a moment, as his furrowed eyebrows relaxed soon later. His face had grown to have an expression that told Elmer his friend now understood why he had said his beard was fake earlier on.

“See.” Elmer brandished his postiche at Pip, making sure to keep him from speaking before he could, while trying to retain the hearty mood slowly dwindling in the atmosphere. “I told you it was fake. Heh, I don’t even think I’m interested in growing beards. I’m glad it seems impossible.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Pip’s countenance remained serious though, and Elmer gave out a sigh at that, inciting him to put his postiche into his jacket which was sprawled on the cushion close to his left thigh.

He knew what was coming next. His flirtatious friend had always been the more mature of them two even though he was a year younger.

Pip was not an orphan, so he had not been bound like Elmer within the walls of the orphanage and their rules.

He was a free bird, and he had been able to interact with a lot of people who usually passed by Meadbray during their travels. He listened to their stories at the taverns, and told his fake ones as well. And that was why he always possessed a lot more information than that which was accustomed to a mere countryside boy.

But because he was a somewhat prolific liar, it was hard to believe his words sometimes.

Although, when he was serious, he was serious. And Elmer felt that it was that time now.

“What is it?” Elmer asked, leaning back onto the cushion he was seated on, his body relaxing comfortably in return.

“You tell me,” Pip said, his coin-flipping put to an abrupt stop while he spared not even a single glance at the cup of white coffee on the table before him. “What’ve you been up to in Ur? Also, what’s with that letter you sent?”

Pip had mentioned to Elmer before he’d left Meadbray that he would come to Ur as well once he’d turned seventeen, saying by that time he would have been old enough to try to search for greener pastures for himself and his family.

And Elmer, who had never forgotten those words, had sent a letter to Pip bearing his address as agreed between them both, only it was tweaked somewhat due to his current situation. Following along was a cryptic message noting that he was now known as Floyd Edgar.

Of course he had sent the letter under that name too, and considering all that, Pip’s confusion was justified. But he’d had to do it that way.

Since he could not stop Pip from coming in all, knowing how persistent his friend was, the only thing he could do was to keep him in check. A little slip up and his whole false identity would crumble down. He could not have that.

Elmer glanced at Pip’s coffee. “Are you drinking that, or not? It’s getting cold.” Pip gave no reply. “I see. So we’re not going to talk about your journey or how Meadbray is?”

Still no reply came, and another sigh poured out from Elmer. He then took off his cap, forcing Pip into a sharp inhale and his forehead into a wrinkle as he exposed the almost indiscernible pure white that had taken center stage upon his hair.

Placing the flat cap on his thigh, Elmer pushed his voice into a tone barely above a whisper, so that no one besides him and his guest would be able to catch his words as he said, “I’m an Ascender.” He then added quickly, “Mary doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Her distance from them helped with that. She was two partitions away in the kitchen, and as long as their voices were lowered she would never be able to overhear their conversation.

He was sure of Mary’s exact location because his supernatural senses did not tingle.

Such a handy ability, it was, being able to perceive a person’s presence once they are presumably twenty feet away. If only it did not become unusable whenever his spirituality was weakened significantly or exhausted completely.

When he’d first found out about it he had wondered why Eddie had not mentioned such to him. Though, their conversation had ended abruptly that day, and a lot of information had been passed across in quite a short span of time, so he could understand something being missing in between.

Well, that was that. He didn’t want to dwell on thoughts regarding those who he’d murdered. He hated recalling the events that tied himself with them.

Pip’s expression changed at Elmer’s answer, but just a little, almost unnoticeable. He only adjusted his posture to imitate the one Elmer was currently in. It was almost like that revelation didn’t surprise him one bit. Almost like he’d expected it.

“You didn’t go through the college, did you?” Pip asked, his cheery voice nowhere to be found. The one he had at the moment was a low pitched tone engineered by the inquisitive nature fit for detectives and the sort.

Elmer replied to Pip's question with a shake of his head.

“What in the world did you do?” Pip turned a lot more serious—far serious than that which was meant for a seventeen year old.

Elmer took off his glasses and pinched his eyes. The essence of vitality he’d used to reinvigorate himself earlier was already waning—he could feel it.

But since he was not of the mind to perform any supernatural acts before Pip, he needed to find a way to escape his friend’s questioning grasp. And seeing as their current conversation was not even based around catching up on old times and how the countryside fared, or the beauty experienced while traveling, Elmer was not feeling inclined to continue with it.

He did not want to talk about the incidents that had occurred during his first month as an Ascender. And most importantly, he wanted to test out the prayer he had formed for his reception of jobs as the reaper. He’d rather go on to do that now than engage in conversations that would only touch upon his psychological issues.

“You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it to you. There’s a lot of complicated things about the supernatural.” Elmer tried to bypass the question he had been asked.

“Try me,” Pip insisted. He was just as stubborn.

“It’s a long story.”

“Well. What we have is a lot of time, isn’t it?”

Utterly wrong… That is the thing I have the most little of…

No longer feeling the need to engage his friend, Elmer rose to his feet and picked up all the items he’d dropped.

“Finish your coffee,” he said. “Mary must have put your bags in your room already since I can’t see any here, so I’ll take that as you know where to have your rest. We’ll talk later. I’m tired, as you correctly guessed earlier, and I’d like to sleep a bit.”

If only that were true, and as well, possible.

“How’s Mabel?” Pip asked suddenly, shifting the subject and halting Elmer’s steps as he arrived at the partition of the living room which led into the corridor. “Is she doing okay? I’ve not seen her yet.”

“You will see her—later.” He was not against allowing Pip into his room, but not at this moment. If his friend came in now he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, and he had things regarding the supernatural to do—things Pip knew nothing about. “Rest up for now. You must be tired from your journey.”

He was about to leave then, but he waited a moment, recalling something.

“Also… Mary!” Elmer called for his maidservant, and it was barely beyond ten seconds before she appeared with a look of confusion. She seemed to have been stacking the bought foodstuffs in their storage boxes. “What do you have in mind for lunch?”

Mary Thatcher blinked owlishly at the question. It was obvious that she still couldn’t come to understand why her master usually asked for her opinion on what meal they should have.

“I… I don’t have any in mind. I can’t think of any.”

Elmer sighed. “Pip?” He took a glance over his shoulder at the back of his friend who gave him none of his attention, but instead drank the milk coffee he had been offered. “Well, I won’t be having lunch,” Elmer directed his next words at Mary. “Oat porridge and bread should be good. It’s my dear friend’s favorite after all, he won’t have any choice but to eat. Have the porridge’s water brought to me. I’ll feed Mabel that.”

“I understand, Master Floyd. I’ll get to doing that now!”

With none of the zeal to engage Mary’s eagerness at this point in time, Elmer simply exited the living room without taking a look back, and made his way into his own personal space—his and Mabel’s.