Rick held up a hand. He wanted to thwart the onslaught of defenses Avis had cooked up in his mind on Yash’s behalf. No matter what the case was, no matter how Yash had disappeared, he’d still stolen money from their company.
“Don’t bother to defend. We’ve been down this road, and it has the same conclusion. We lost an assload of money because of Yash. End story. Now, onto other, more pressing matters, like Littleton. Did you have any idea the person listed as 7E’s occupant was incorrect?”
Avis’s head popped up from scrolling his phone. “Say again?”
Sifting through the papers on his desk, he dug through them, separating them by date. “Yeah. We have a Lennox Griffith listed, but it’s actually Poppy who lives there.”
Avis gazed at him from his seat in the chair. “Poppy? What an incredible coincidence.”
As Rick explained the events of the day, he found himself almost a little too exuberant when referring to Poppy, making him firmly clamp his lips together.
He wasn’t ready to like her just yet.
“S’up, Stone-Maker,” Calamity chirped as Poppy unpacked her clothes and began putting them into the armoire, tucked away in the corner of her new bedroom.
She let the joke go in favor of the distraction from her thoughts. “Just thinking.”
“About?” Marty asked, poking her head around the corner of the room.
She shook her head, wiping her hands on the thighs of her favorite pair of ripped blue jeans before she sat next to Wanda on the edge of the bed. “Not sure I can articulate just yet.”
She wanted to be sure she had her ducks in a row before she came out swinging. Yet, the longer she thought about Avis, the more she recalled the terrifying vibe he’d sent out, the more she wanted to confide in someone. She just wanted the words to be right.
“I fucking hope you’re thinking about doing more magic tricks because I’m here to tell ya, you’re GD awesome,” Nina said on a snort, positioning herself against the wall opposite the bed.
Carl wandered into the room, cocking his head to indicate he’d like to sit next to her. She patted the surface and smiled as he scrunched in between her and Wanda.
Thumping her thigh, he murmured, “Like you,” and followed up with his adorably crooked grin.
Poppy grinned back, hooking her hand through the crook of his arm. “That’s so nice to hear, Carl. I like you, too.”
“So what’s going on in that brain of yours, Poppy? Talk to us,” Wanda encouraged, licking the tips of her fingers before passing a bag of chips.
She grabbed one and nibbled at it, trying to define what she was feeling without sounding like some crazy alarmist. “Something just feels off. It’s the best way to describe it. Totally off. I can’t explain it, I have no reason for it, it’s just wrong.”
Calamity settled onto Carl’s lap, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “That’s just you adjusting to being a familiar. It happens all the time. We all go through highs and lows while we get used to our assignments, Poppy-Seed. I think the powers that be forget we each had lives apart from one another. They just throw us the eff together and expect us to get each other. Just because the fates say we should be paired, doesn’t damn well mean we’ll totally understand every foible and bad habit. Maybe when all this is done, I’ll lobby for some reform.”
Sure, that could be the case. Who was she to say what one felt when they were turned into a familiar? Maybe the rush of instincts and emotions had something to do with how off she felt. But that just didn’t sit right. “Maybe,” she answered, grabbing a handful of chips.
“I daresay, if you spoil the fantastic meal I’m making out in that wee kitchen for your welcome-to-the-fold dinner, I shall reserve the right to clock you in your lovely head,” Archibald scolded with a teasing grin.
She loved his gently aged face, the crisp black suit he wore with a smartly tied silver ascot. She loved that he was no-questions-asked inclusive. At a time when she was feeling pretty alone, missing her family, unsure how to call them and explain all that had happened, they were filling a need in her like no other.
Pressing a hand to her throat, she affected her best southern accent. “You’re making me dinner? Whatever did I do to deserve such kindness, sir?”
Throwing a dishtowel over his shoulder, Arch raised a jaunty eyebrow. “Frankly m’dear, I don’t give a damn!”
Nina slapped him on the back, dropped a kiss on his shiny head and said, “Worst accent ever, Arch,” as everyone laughed.
But Arch swatted her with his towel and grinned as he looked to Poppy. “Are we inviting Master Delassantos to our feast? Have we given him the thumbs-up yet or are we reserving judgment? The texts I received from Miss Nina about him were anything but kind.”