Having an obscene amount of money on hand, it turned out, made doing things that were either impossible or illegal a simple matter of payment. For example, instead of the impossible task of making their way back to the US without any kind of identification or documentation via cargo ship without any contacts in the city whatsoever, Peter and Greg purchased their own boat and hired a crew to make the voyage.

It was painfully expensive, but they basically had all the money in the world. Or so it felt to Peter Mayhew, who, even after impulse-buying a yacht, just kept pulling stacks of cash out of his inner jacket pocket and setting them down on the coffee table in their hotel suite. Renea, who was informed of this purchase after it had been made, did not feel as though having all of the money in the world - which they did not - justified spending as much as he did. But that wasn’t what really upset her.

They didn’t fight. Not exactly. But it was made very clear that Peter had made a mistake.

Renea’s voice was cold when she told Peter, “You should have been on the first flight back, Peter. That’s what I would have done for you. I get that Greg doesn’t like planes, but I honestly don't care. Let Greg find his own way back.”

Peter’s gut clenched as it dawned on him that, instead of getting back home as quickly as he could, he’d chosen the most expensive, elaborate, and slowest way to do so. At the time, making a transatlantic voyage just sounded like a great deal of fun while also taking him back to the states. Instead of curling up on the couch with Renea as soon as this evening, he’d be spending the next week to two weeks on a yacht with Greg. She hadn’t come straight out and told him that she should be his priority, not this man he barely knew, but the message was clear. And she was right.

His guilt at having made such a selfish, stupid decision weighed on him heavily. Peter’s typically optimistic outlook and cheery disposition was dampened dramatically as he tried to think of some way to right his wrong.

His first reaction was to look into the return policy, but it turned out that purchasing a yacht was just about as final of a sale as there was. Especially when it was paid for in cash, and the transaction was brokered under the table, with very little documentation. He was, to his shame and embarrassment, the owner of a very expensive boat.

Next, he used his phone to search the internet in hopes of finding some way to fly home without any form of identification. There was a good chance that, if Renea sent him photos of his license and passport, and he took those to the nearest US embassy, and then paid them some money, they may issue him a new, temporary passport. He hit a roadblock while filling out the forms on his phone before going into the embassy.

One of the many blanks he was required to fill in asked when he arrived in Italy, including date, time, and airport of arrival. He couldn’t tell the embassy officials the truth, obviously. Though considering how he might phrase the explanation, and imagining the questions they’d ask in response did amuse Peter a little.

The other option was to lie. As icky as it would make him feel, Peter could lie. He could find flight times easily enough and find one to fit the story he would tell them but, if they looked into it at all, his story would fall apart and he’d have to start answering less comfortable questions. He could even be detained in Italy pending investigation.

As much as he wished it was not the case, the yacht may be Peter’s only way home. He had a feeling that, even if he explained exactly how he came to this conclusion, Renea would not be any less upset with him. And then he realized that she was not, in fact, upset with him. She was hurt by his actions. And when Renea was hurt, she put on a mask. Peter had a name for that particular mask, the Ice Queen.

The Ice Queen came to be as an almost-dissociative measure. When she was young, and her mother - whom the Mayhews no longer discussed for any reason - berated her for some egregious act like eating the last popsicle, Renea had found that replying or defending herself only made things worse. Over time she realized that simply putting on a stone face and taking the abuse without giving her bully even the hint of an expression lessened the time and severity of these occurrences.

Over years, the Ice Queen began to fill other roles in Renea’s life. When passion or anger would not serve her, the Ice Queen appeared to handle the situation with cold unwavering resolve. If she had been upset with Peter, the Ice Queen would have remained deep within. She may have shouted, or perhaps dressed him down like a misbehaving child.

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In their entire relationship, Peter had only been the reason for Renea dawning her mask a handful of times. And to nobody’s surprise, each of those instances were a result of his lack of consideration.

As much as he wanted to believe that he always put Renea first, and as much as it pained him to admit it even to himself, Peter had a history of making selfish decisions. Not selfish in the vein of putting himself first out of hubris or greed, however. Peter sometimes failed to see the consequences that his choices might have on other people until it was too late. He was so easily blinded by excitement or desire that they simply never occurred to him, and it was one of the things he hated the most about himself. Especially at that moment.

“That’s not all for me, is it?” Greg asked, jutting his chin to the money on the coffee table.

“There’s still more in there,” Peter said, looking up from the mountain of bills he’d been staring blankly into as he continued to beat himself up over hurting Renea the way he had. “This isn’t even half of it.”

Omacatl jumped onto the coffee table next to the pile of money, eyeing it curiously before slowly raising a paw, and knocking a bound stack of bills to the ground. It raised its paw to repeat the process, but Peter stopped it with a thought. Though he did find the eccentricities of felines endearing, even the obnoxious ones, he wasn’t going to have a cat that made a habit of knocking things off tables and shelves.

With a normal cat, he’d just have to deal with it, or perhaps train it not to do so over a long period of time. With a god cat, he could just command it not to do that. Omacatl looked at him with her ears pinned back, an angry expression, and then scampered off.

“So,” Greg said, picking up a few stacks of cash and putting them in his travel bag, “we take the boat across the Atlantic, rent a car once we’re stateside, and drive back to Portland? What are you going to do with the boat after the trip?”

“I think it’d be better to take the ship through the Panama canal, then up the west coast back home. It would actually be faster than driving all the way across the country. Then we could dock it at some marina. I can’t think of any off the top of my head, but there are bound to be situations where having our own boat will come in handy. Even the trip to Mexico would have been more convenient if we could just hop in the yacht and go.”

Greg opened his mouth to respond but came up just short of speaking. He tried again, now having altered the way he said what he was going to say. He wore a steely expression. “Peter, don’t take this the wrong way. But you keep saying ‘we’. I like you, and Mrs. Mayhew, and Flapjack. You’re good people. But what exactly is this ‘we’ you’re talking about?”

Peter’s bad day just got worse. He was confused and hurt by the question. He’d imagined his future packed to bursting with adventures and exploits and loot, all with Greg as a part of it. Unfounded though it may have been, he thought that Greg felt the same way. Until now.

“I…” Peter trailed off, feeling sheepish about saying what he wanted to. He took a deep breath, and then held eye contact with the grizzly man as he spoke from his heart. “I’m a lucky guy. I have always been a generally happy person. I have a loving, supportive wife who is amazing. We live in a great house in a great neighborhood. I’ve had the freedom to pursue any passion I’ve had for years and, until I met you, I thought that was all I needed.”

“Peter…” Greg interrupted, but was stopped by an upraised hand from Peter.

“Let me finish,” he said, nodding to indicate he understood the reason for Greg’s interruption. “After a single adventure into your world, this hidden magical world of wonder and danger, I knew I wanted that to be a part of my life for a very long time to come. I just knew it. This second adventure has only affirmed that in my mind.

“Yes, I understand that I’m just a human in a world of monsters that can kill me as quickly as they could shake my hand. Yes, I understand that my value to you might not be worth the effort of making sure I don’t get killed all the time. Yes, I understand that Renea will be fussy and irritated and a huge worry-wort every time we do something like this. But, as always, she will support me.

“That all said, team monster hunter is what I want to do with the rest of my life. And I’ve never felt that way about anything, anything except Renea. I get obsessed with random fancies as they catch my eye, but none of them have lasted more than a few months. And I’ve never even considered the possibility that there was something out there I would want to do forever. I’d understand if you don’t…”

“Peter, stop.” Greg stopped putting money in his bag and looked at Peter sadly, then put on a weak smile. “We can work together for a while. Your lifespan is not so long that it would be an inconvenience to me, but…”

Greg was stopped short by the relief on Peter’s face.

“Really?” he asked, his big blue eyes wide as a puppy awaiting a treat.

“I mean,” Greg said, shrugging noncommittally. “I’m not signing a contract or anything. But, yes. If it’s okay with Mrs. Mayhew, we can continue working together for a while.”

“Team monster hunter!” Peter shouted joyously, his mood beginning to lift slightly. “You can stay at our house, too. If you don’t want to keep sleeping at a dumpy hotel, that is. We have more than enough room, you could have Flapjack’s room. We set it up for him with a dog bed and toys and stuff, and call it his room, but he doesn’t ever actually go in there. Or you two could be roomies, I guess. He seems to like you quite a bit. Oh, but I’d have to talk to Renea about it first. Obviously.”

Greg closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples.

Frowning, Peter waited for a reply, but Greg was clearly done talking. The big man went back to putting stacks of cash in his bag. Peter checked his phone to get the time, then got to his feet.

“Well,” Peter said. “I’m going to go see some of Venice. Maybe go to a restaurant or something. You’re welcome to join me, of course.”

That evening, Peter explained as clearly and concisely as he could to Renea that he had looked for an alternative to the yacht. He listed the steps he’d taken one by one, and the roadblocks or risks they presented. She was still wearing the Ice Queen mask, and replied with more ‘that’s fine, Peter’(s) and ‘okay’(s) than actual sentences, and did not seem appeased by any stretch of the imagination. She did, however, remind Peter how much she loved him. And that she couldn’t wait to see him again. And, though he was still in the dog house, Peter felt much better after hearing that.