Milo stood in front of door 212, to put it simply, he was nervous. He had been gone, and abruptly disappeared without warning. Master Will had notified him that he had covered for Milo and not to worry. He was worried nonetheless. Reluctantly, he produced his key chain and with care used the worn brass key to open the door and was immediately assailed.

“Honestly Michael, I thought you were going to stand there another hour at least.” the old woman embraced Milo and he returned her hug.

“Hi grandma,” Milo choked, “been awhile”

Pushing away from him, she put her hands on her hips, “you’re grounded.”

“I'm twenty-six” he defended himself.

“And I had to learn that you went to Brazil from your boss’s secretary!”

“And i apologize, but it was important work.” he held his hands up in front of himself.

“For five whole years? You didn't even have the courtesy to write a goddamned letter.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't even have toilet paper most of the time!”

Clearly done being exasperated, she whipped around and strode off toward the kitchen. ”Well, do you want some breakfast?”

“Please and thank you,” he deflated, relieved and happy that it was over with.”any coffee left?”

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“You’re in luck,” came a reply from the kitchen.

He made a beeline for the counter with the coffee pot, and poured it into a mug from the dishrack beside the sink. “How's Mili?”

“Mad, more than I was.”

“I expected that. No doubt I'll have to take another talking to.”

“Don”t think I'm done yet.” she chuckled, brandishing a potato peeler at Milo mockingly.

“I fear you won't be for another five years,'' Milo sipped his coffee and added some cane sugar from the tin.

“If you're lucky,”she said flatly, followed by the sound of aggressive dicing of potato which promptly went into a skillet.

“I’d like to think I've been so far,” Milo admonished in mock fashion.

Milo’s grandmother was exceedingly spry for her old age and was regularly mistaken for his mother. He loved and respected her a great deal, and was one of a handful of people he was kinda scared of, if he was honest with himself. He watched as she finished seasoning the potatoes, cleared and whipped down the counter, pulled another skillet from the cupboard before preparing a few eggs, and ground sausage. Which too, went into a skillet almost as quickly as it was pulled from the refrigerator. Within minutes, they were both plated and seated at the table with more coffee.

“I'm afraid you're going to disappear again.”

Milo looked, met her eyes and saw she knew he would leave again. Perhaps she didn't know what he was truly mixed up in but she didn't need to. She knew he had been through a lot on his trip and even more before he left.

“Eventually,” was all Milo really could say. After all, how do you describe a beskers crook without getting checked into a padded cell? He would be deemed a delusional mad man for everything it mattered.

“Take your time, I will probably live another hundred years."

“Of course,” he sighed, “i'll see you soon but i have an overdue book that needs returning.”