“Good morning !” Dola beamed over a counter full of baked goods and a box of coffee from the cafe next door as Fylson walked groggily into the kitchen the next morning, pausing to stare at the layout as he stepped foot in the room.

"What?" Fylson grumbled, eyes squinted and his lip turned up in a scowl that was as suspicious as it was confused. Dola never made breakfast. Dola was never the first one up. For both of those things to be happening today it was clear that the universe was turning on it's head, the stars were out of alignment and something annoying was likely going to happen on a scale that he could not measure yet.

It was usually Fylson who was the first awake. He thrived on the still silence of the early morning before Dola was awake and throwing her stuff everywhere, he appreciated the sleepy yawn of the city before the hustle and bustle of human life. Most morning he'd use those magic hours to take a quick jog around the neighborhood right as the sun was rising. He'd come back to shower and make a modest breakfast and coffee that he would sip at as he sat at the chipped wooden counter of the tiny kitchen island and he would plan his day. It was around the time that he was wrapping up his own breakfast and closing his planner that Dola would come barreling out of the bathroom damp from the shower and half dressed panicking that she's running late for work. He'd remind her for the millionth time as he'd hand her a breakfast sandwich that she wouldn't be late if she simply stopped hitting snooze on her alarm for half and hour every morning. She usually flipped him off grabbed her lunch with a quick thanks and took off our of the door slamming it behind her with in her rush to make her bus. That was the routine that he was used to.

Whatever this was... was weird.

As Fylson eyed the food with the suspicion that he felt it deserved, he was vaguely aware of Eirlan behind them rising from the couch and approaching, awoken by the either the noise or the smell of coffee.

”Oh my! What a beautiful spread Lady Dola! How magnanimous of you to think of us!” Eirlan gasped, eyes wide as he swept into the kitchen looking as flawless and refreshed as if he’d slept in a luxury resort rather than on the old army green couch that Dola had found on the side of the road a few years ago with the soft spot in the middle that was a killer on the lower back. Fylson's nostrils flared as he tried to tamp down his sudden and growing irritation, while Dola beamed at the newest arrival in the kitchen, pleased that at least one of them were grateful for her efforts.

This was why she was up early and making this ridiculous spread for breakfast. There had been a moment, a beautiful moment, that Fylson had forgotten about the events of the previous night, where he'd thought perhaps it had been a shitty dream. When he'd walked out from his room and to the kitchen he hadn't even looked to see if someone had been asleep on the couch because this whole situation was so stupid that he was sure he'd made it up, dreamt it... And yet, here was Eirlan, gushing over how great this breakfast looked and how amazing Dola was for preparing it. It was sickening.

“What’s all this?” Fylson asked again as he eyed the spread with dry disdain. Dola's grin slipped into a scowl as Eirlan's praises were cut short.

“Obviously it's breakfast! You act like you’ve never seen breakfast before.” Dola poured herself some coffee in the largest of her mismatched mugs that she could find, feeling very much like she would need it as she spoke.

”I’ve never seen you provide a breakfast." Fylson amended, inspecting one of the bagels to make sure it wasn’t wooden or something because he was just sure that this had to be a prank. Dola shot him an unamused look.

"You know, just saying 'thank you' is an option." Dola pushed a mug of tea in his direction with a smile that was so ironic it look like it hurt to pull off.

“Hmm.” Fylson grumbled turning his suspicion to the steaming mug before him.

”It’s Earl Grey, the good kind, the loose leaf from the metal tins. One spoon of honey, one splash of cream.” Fylson’s brow quirked as he looked between her and the mug before him, “What? I pay attention sometimes, now drink it before I dump it down the drain.” Dola threatened before turning her attention to Eirlan. “Please help yourself Eirlan. I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a bit of everything. There's ham and cheese croissants, plain ones, bagels, some donuts and a bunch of other stuff, I got coffee, water is boiled for tea and there’s juice in the fridge. Feel fee to try a bit of everything.”

With wide eyes Eirlan took in the spread. In truth he wasn’t familiar with much of this cuisine outside of what he’d seen in his studies. His family mostly ate the bland and boiled traditional meals of their ancestors that shared their family name, so as he took in the nutty, rich aroma of this 'coffee' stuff, he was already more than a little intrigued. Tentatively, Eirlan reached for one of the colorful dough rings with colorful sprinkles on it and prepared a mug of whatever it was Dola had poured for herself adding the milk and sugar as she had done.

“So since when do you do breakfast?” Fylson asked, getting back to the root of his confusion as he took a seat at the tiny kitchen island. He braved a sip his tea and found that he was quietly impressed that it was in fact just as he would have made it himself.

Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, but his displeasure of this whole situation shrank a bit regardless.

"Well," Dola started, turning her undivided attention to the loose string of an embroidered flower of an old kitchen towel, "I felt... a little bad about the other day." She cleared her throat, twirling the thread around her finger, face burning. Saying that she'd felt bad about the other day had been an understatement. The predicament they were in had kept her up all night, it had sent her spiraling.

In all honesty, she'd gone out at the crack of dawn and spent almost a quarter of her paycheck on this spread because it was the only thing she could think to do to tip the scales in her favor again and she had to do something or she wouldn't be able to sleep until she felt some of the pressure lighten. She had to right a little of the overwhelming wrong that she'd committed to correct some of the disappointment that she felt from Fylson and the new guest in her kitchen.

The heavy feeling of letting down others never sat well with her. Even when letting down those she didn't particularly care for or know well she'd still feel that heavy leaden guilt. That haunting feeling of not being enough, of having slipped up and made a mistake brought her back to her childhood. Even now as an adult, the sinking feeling of waiting for the cold scorn of her mother when she didn't nail an audition or forgot a line was unshakeable. To this day every time she messed up she felt as though she was holding her breath for the wrath of someone who had it more together than she did and this was no exception. It was insane, she knew that, but she was too broke for the years of therapy she'd need for that and too busy to sit down and work it out herself, so she shoved the feeling to the back of her mind until she was forced to contend with it.

Because that had to be healthy.

"I just thought this would be a nice apology, for causing this mess." She sighed, bringing her hand to her mouth to chew at her nails and stopping short, dropping her hands to the counter with a second deeper sigh as she fought the urge to do so, "I'd just been panicked when it happened and I don't know all the rules for this stuff, I didn't read the rule book or anything- I didn't mean to make a mess of things I just didn't want my last moments to be choking on a mozzarella stick as I'm sure you could understand because who would want that I mean that's so embarrassing-" This was all said in one breath, Dola could feel herself getting lightheaded from the rush of words that she couldn't seem to stop. She was sure she would have kept going until she blacked out had Fylson's hand shot up to cut her off.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Ugh, too much rambling before I've finished my tea." Fylson cut in looking genuinely annoyed before closing his eyes and lifting his mug to his mouth again, "Don't stress about it. It won't change anything, we've already come to an agreement and we're in it now. We'll figure this out as we go." He went on before Dola would keep dwelling in her own negativity.

The relief that washed over Dola was as immense as it was unexpected.

"Yes, Lady Dola, I assure you we will all get through this together, you have my word." Eirlan assured her and Fylson rolled his eyes.

"Thank you- oh." As Dola looked to Eirlan she found that his face was covered in strawberry frosting and both of his hands were full of two different kinds of pastries. She thought to point it out to him, the fact that his face was covered in sweets, but decided against it. At least someone appreciated her efforts.

Fylson watched as Dola smiled at Eirlan's doofy face smeared in dyed sugar and fought to roll his eyes yet again lest they get stuck like that from repetition. Though Fylson was still irritated that Dola's carelessness had put him in this situation where he might lose his job, he felt more at ease with the whole thing this morning simply because he knew Dola was such a mess that by-the-book Eirlan could never replace him. Eirlan had no idea how messy and needy humans were. The job was more than what was advertised, and all he had to do was make that very clear to Eirlan.

Of course, Dola waking them up with pastries was not doing anything in supporting his plan to show Eirlan that this job wasn't all sunshine and roses, but he still had a week. Fylson's gaze slid to Eirlan, watching as the naive younger man cheerily shoveled sweets into his face, his cheeks filled like a chipmunks would be and face smeared with chocolate and frosting. There was not a doubt in Fylson's mind that he could break him. A week was long enough, and that thought alone was enough to bring a smile to Fylson's face.

Fylson was still smiling to himself when Dola tossed a kitchen towel at his head, nearly sending his piping hot tea to pool in his lap. He cursed under his breath as he tried to control the almost critical spill before looking up to scowl at her.

"What? What do you want? You almost ended a next generation with that stunt." He groused, dabbing at the drops that managed to get to his jeans.

"Ugh, gross. First you sit over there smiling like a creep to yourself and now that comment." Dola poured the remainder of her coffee down the sink as she looked at the clock on the wall, remembered that she never replaced it's batteries and fished her phone out of her pocket. "I'm heading out to work soon, so I guess I was just wondering if you two will be okay while I'm gone."

"Since when do you care what happens here when you're away?" Fylson couldn't help the snark, but he felt a little bad when Dola's expression fell. He'd just told her not to stress about it hadn't he? And he was still trying to keep his job, "We'll be fine." He corrected, softening his tone and turning to his new and unwanted companion, "Eirlan here has a lot to learn and I am eager to be not only a gracious host, but an effective teacher." Fylson clapped Eirlan on the back before he could protest with a smile and tone that was as syrupy sweet as Eirlan's sugar coated face.

"I' have nothing to learn from you!" Eirlan protested around a mouthful of dough that he'd nearly choked on a moment ago, "I should spend the day with Lady Dola, we should be on missions!"

"Now now, it's hard to focus on missions in the human world when there's no roof over your head and we haven't done enough missions this month to secure enough for rent. Dola and I both do our part to pay our way, and now for this week, you will too. Welcome to the team." Fylson's smile was anything but kind as Eirlan sputtered with displeasure.

"Lady Dola, surely you will not stand for this!" Eirlan was to his feet now, the recycled bar-stool he'd been sitting on scrapping on the tiled floor as Eirlan shot up and tipping over before crashing to the ground shortly after. A leg of the old thing snapped off and Fylson sighed.

"Well there's something to do for today too." He mumbled as he looked down to the splintered wood, "Listen newbie 'Lady Dola,' is going to go to work, and I am going to show you around the city, and show you how to repair this chair. We have a bit of work to do for the agency, but that's only if you can keep up."

"Of course I can keep up!" Eirlan protested and Fylson nearly laughed at how easy it was to get this guy riled up.

"Sounds like you have a busy day then." Dola attempted a smile, but between how tired she was and how worried she was that those two having a busy day would somehow result in trouble for her, the smile missed the mark on being convincing.

"We'll be fine, scouts honor." Fylson swore with an angelic smile and his hand pressed to his leather jacket on the spot over his heart. Dola rolled her eyes.

"Uh huh. Sure buddy." She snorted grabbing her beat up canvas bag from the pile of things that she kept by the door in case she was in a rush and grabbed her keys, "You guys, just don't break anything. We can talk more about this whole thing later, I'm off tomorrow so we'll have more time to-" More time to do what? That was the question of the day, they were in uncharted waters, "Well time to figure out how this happened or something." It was the only way she could think to

"Who's Scout? Why are we concerned with their honor?" Eirlan cut in looking both annoyed and confused as he looked between Dola and Fylson, feeling like increasingly like he was out of the loop.

"Don't pay him any mind. He's being a smart ass." Eirlan felt a little better as Dola smiled at him, a little less like he was on the outside looking in, a little more included.

"Ah. I see, of course." He forced a laugh, "As Fylson said, we shall be fine and hopefully we have figured some things out as you are away Lady Dola." Eirlan rose, looking as noble as ever despite the crumbs glued to his face via sucrose and crossed the room to unlock and open the door for her, "May your travels be safe and your day meet you well." Eirlan pressed his arms to his stomach and bowed a bow that was so deep that if he'd gone any lower, his forehead might have touched his knees.

"That's very kind of you Eirlan. Thank you." She smiled, patting his shoulder and sticking her tongue out at Fylson before stepping out of the door and out into the fray of human life.

They were both silent as they heard Dola descend the stairs, Eirlan watched her go, making sure she reached them safely and only closed the door when he was sure she had. He would have walk all the way to work had he not thought that she may have discouraged him. Would she have? He should have offered at the very least. Ugh, he was already making mistakes.

"Well, well, well, it's just you and me, Kiss Ass." Fylson was next to Eirlan the moment the door closed.

"Wha-?"

"Fawning over her won't make her want to work with you. Sucking up won't make her do the job we're here to do. I tried that and it didn't work." Fylson hadn't tried that actually, but in case it did work he wasn't giving Eirlan that advantage.

"I'm not fawning-" He was and he knew it, "I'm just being polite." It was more than being polite. Flattery, Eirlan learned long ago, could get you everywhere, and he wanted this job. Why would this time be different? Why would Dola be different?

Fylson looked at Eirlan right in the eye for a long minute, silent, unblinking, unmoving, expressionless. It was creepy, Eirlan felt transparent, like Fylson could see his thoughts... Could he? Was that possible? Was he hearing his thought in that very moment? Eirlan was about to ask in a moment of madness before a long slow, wicked smile split Fylson's face.

"Whatever you say." Fylson said finally stepping back and returning to the kitchen counter and starting to pick up the dishes just as Eirlan was ready to push him away for creeping him out, "I'll clean up here while you go shower. I can't be seen with you out looking like that." Fylson circled his finger in the air near his mouth to indicated the mess that had been on Eirlan's face for what was becoming an embarrassingly long time. As Eirlan's hand shot to his own face Fylson assumed that the fair haired man was embarrassed by what he found by the gasp that he let out at the crumbs on his face, before taking off down the hall and running for the bathroom.

Fylson rolled his eyes not for the first time that morning. It was going to be a long day.