An old wooden rotary phone sat on the counter, covered in dust and grime. Its bells had long since lost their shine, and the straight cord showed signs of fraying. Beside it sat a small set of tools, a rag, and a bottle of wood polish. Kieran would need to hunt down the brass polish later.

He began removing the metal pieces and setting them aside. He half-listened to Lindsey going on about how strange Thomas's presence had felt as he set about cleaning up the insides of the phone. As off-putting as it was to hear about how the half-dead felt when they manifested, it was comforting to hear her voice in the background as he worked. More so than a radio.

Moira had been right in how Lindsey had been good for him. She eased a blistering loneliness he had grown so accustomed to that he no longer felt it. She had cracked the ice, making it all too easy for Jack to come barreling through and into his heart.

His phone rang, and he pulled it out from beneath the counter and set it next to the register. "Here. Your new job."

Lindsey poked the answer button and leaned over with her ear next to the speaker. "Thank you for calling O'Byrne Antiques. This is Lindsey. How may I help you?" she sang out. Her smile slowly fell as she listened. She stood up and gestured to the phone. "It's Augie," she whispered.

They were supposed to be past this. Augustin was supposed to be a non-issue. Kieran snatched up his phone. "How did you get this number?" he demanded.

"From your website?" Augustin replied with some confusion. "It's right on the front. Like the shop's window. Lovely font. It's a shame you couldn't replicate it on the webpage."

It was a shame that Lindsey's skillset was currently limited, but Kieran wouldn't voice it aloud. "I don't know what it is you're hoping to achieve—"

"A truce! A simple truce," Augustin cut in with a desperate air. "Mother's been rather harsh with my punishment. I'm currently confined to the house with only the cleanest of blood for feeding, and the help won't speak to me."

The help. Kieran closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. Did Augustin even know their names? What they were capable of? Kieran had the excuse of being so disliked, he was barely tolerated on Colette's porch. He had yet to find out if her forgiveness and declaration of accepting him back into the fold had been well-received. He wasn't in a rush to find out. "If that's how you refer to them, then I certainly understand why you're receiving a cold shoulder."

"What? It's what they're paid to do. Help. They help," Augustin said with a dismissive scoff. "Not particularly helpful at the moment. They're making me cook my own food! I have to clean my own clothing. I pay people for this, but Mother won't let me hire a service to bring food or do laundry. My nails haven't been in such an atrocious state since my father was alive!"

"Are you hoping I'll come to your rescue?" Kieran asked, giving Lindsey a confused frown. He shrugged and shook his head in response to her raised eyebrows. He may need to call on Colette sooner than he'd been planning.

"Well, I would greatly appreciate it if you had a word with Mother," Augustin said. His voice held the familiar sweet and self-deprecating tone Kieran had grown all too familiar with. "She may listen to you."

"If her sentiment is that these are skills you need to learn, then we are in agreement," Kieran replied.

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"What?"

He sighed loudly, no longer able to hide his annoyance. "Even Thomas can clean a shirt and cook a simple meal." And cook other paraphernalia. He needed to come up with a list of ground rules for Thomas's presence.

"Who's Thomas? I thought you were with Kyle, er, Jack," Augustin said and clicked his tongue. "I was under the impression you were serious about him. I don't need Mother angry with you as well."

"Thomas Carter," Kieran clarified. "I believe you've met him. He once said you referred to him as a 'wasted ginger fool.'"

"Oh, that strange little addict you picked up," Augustin said in relief. "He's much easier to find than you. How you could tolerate the nonsense he spouts off, I will never understand. You know, come to think of it, he probably does it on purpose. I always thought it sad that you had to rely on a bottom-feeder for friendship. So many nasty habits to be found there."

A protective flash ran through Kieran. "I sired him," he bit out.

"You what? Since when?!"

"Since 1915." He took a long, calming breath. "Thank you for answering the question of whether or not your infatuation extended beyond what I personally had to offer in return for a little affection. And for insulting those I choose to befriend."

"Well, I— That is— I thought what we had was enough. I thought you were happy," Augustin said, ending just above a whisper.

"I was," Kieran quietly admitted. "It wasn't until I'd been on my own that I came to the realization that I needed more."

"And Jack gives you that?"

"Yes." Kieran smiled and leaned back against the wall as he looked out onto the street. "It's rather sweet how flustered he gets when looking for something to do to help around the home. He needn't bother, but I find his attempts rather thoughtful and appreciated."

"Oh." Augustin was silent for a moment before speaking in quiet reluctance. "I suppose you don't wish for me to contact you again."

Kieran pulled his eyes away from the street and the window shoppers. Had he been much, much younger, he would have still had the brash impulsiveness to completely cut ties. "I'll have to think on it. Jack's opinion on the matter will hold sway over my decision."

"It's better than an outright no," Augustin said with a small and brittle laugh. "If it garners amusement, you may wish to relay that I'm useless with a microwave."

"Only a microwave?"

"My allowance has been garnered to replace the washing machine, and I've been given a washboard with clear instructions to keep my efforts relegated to the bathtub," Augustin said in distaste. "It's as if they think I'll embarrass them if the neighbors catch sight of me."

Kieran chuckled and quietly relayed Augustin's misfortune to Lindsey. "If you wish to gain favor with your sire, I would suggest keeping a diary of your exploits and having it delivered to Jack. It would make for excellent reading material."

"Yes, yes!" Augustin hastily agreed. "A Christmas gift! Mother seems everso attached to him."

"Your eagerness belies your honesty." And Kieran would be warning Colette that he had planted the idea. "Don't believe this will gain your freedom, Augustin."

"No… Unfortunately, the parameters for that have been laid out in stark clarity for me," Augustin said, sighing heavily. "It will be some time before I'm able to roam free without a chaperone. I only wish for Mother to be less cold to me. And to be allowed to call for take out."

There would be no take out for Augustin if Kieran had anything to do with it. If Jack wished to lessen Augustin's punishment, then he might be persuaded into mentioning cooking classes to Colette.

The bells on the door chimed merrily, and Kieran briefly glanced up. "I'm afraid I must let you go. Some of us need to work for a living."

"Please don't give Mother any ideas! I'm not meant for—"

Kieran hung up with an air of satisfaction and greeted his latest customer.

image [https://i.imgur.com/eZY0YUq.png]