He could only make out bits and pieces of the two arguing, yet it didn't do anything to settle the nerves in his stomach. He popped a piece of gum into his mouth, if only to keep his hands from shaking. Glancing back to the door, he wondered how quietly he could slip out. 'He should have just told me there's was a mistake and asked me to leave. Why bother telling me to wait if he's looking for a girl?'

The sound of glass shattering caught his attention, breaking him out of his angry, fatalist train of thought. Matthew stood up out of instinct, his breath slow. He waited. Glass and plastic shifted against each other before he found himself walking towards the commotion.

"I told you to stay back," someone whispered. A boy, somewhere between seven and twelve, based on his voice. Definitely pre-pubescent.

"You said it would help," whispered another. Definitely a child, someone clearly much younger than the other. A girl?

Matthew's pace quickened through the long dining room before he caught sight of two children hunched over a pale green puddle by a kitchen island, picking through the scattered shards of glass with their bare hands.

The room stunk of grass, vinegar, and smoke, a black patch of tiles behind the stove top suggesting something having burned. The island's rounded ends stretched the counter towards the dining room, though only a small portion of the counters were adapted to sit at. An eat-in booth wrapped around the corner by a glass back door. An open pantry showcased dusty shelves of plenty of instant, probably expired, food piled high. Despite its size and awkwardness, the room had surprisingly good light, undercut with the clear grime and dustiness that seemed to characterize the rest of the house.

"This's your fault," the boy whispered.

"You got too many jars," the girl snapped back. "I got confused."

Indeed, scattered across the counter were a plethora of glass jars, some with swing-top lids, others with standard ones. Herbs and spices were clustered together and one giant jar of pickles, half-filled with its green juice. Some had already been filled with dry spices. The scent of grass cuttings hung in the air somewhere.

Matthew knocked on the propped-open wood door, unsure of how to get their attention. This all felt very out of the ordinary for an interviewee. "Uh...guys?"

They turned to him. The boy rolled his eyes; the girl smiled like seeing an old friend.

She stood and proceeded over to him. Her smile faded. "Who're you?"

"I..." He watched as the boy continued picking through the puddle. "Do you guys need help?"

The girl shook her head. "No. Eli says he doesn't want the help, but I'm helping him anyways because he said this potion will turn me into a dragon."

Wow, there was a lot to unpack.

She grabbed Matthew's hand, pulling him closer to the boy. Her fingers were covered in the slimy stuff. "I'm Lilly. That's Elliot. Why do you smell like Daddy?"

Matthew, putting his folder on a vacant spot on the counter, squatted down and asked, "Do you guys have a broom and dustpan? It'd be easier to clean it up."

"But why do you smell like my dad?" she asked.

"It's...medicinal, it doesn't taste good, either," Matthew lied.

The boy's eyes moved to him for a moment before he returned to picking through the glass.

"Are you dying?" she asked.

This brought the boy's gaze back to Matthew. Something in his eyes twinkled.

Matthew smiled wearily. "No, no.”

Elliot's eyes dropped back to the mess again.

“Do you, do you guys have a broom and dustpan?" he asked again.

"I think? Let me check." Lilly skipped off.

Matthew watched Elliot continue to pick through the vinegar-pungent puddle. His hands were covered in pale scars. "Not your first time, I'm guessing?" When Eliot looked up, he clarified, "Trying to transform someone? Or, picking through glass?"

He harrumphed.

"... you're really making a potion to turn her into a dragon?"

His eyes met Matthew's for a moment before nodding.

"How?"

"... there's a recipe I'm trying to get through," Elliot finally said. "It...calls for rosemary in spirits for up to 48 hours."

Matthew sniffed, bringing himself closer to the puddle to smell it. "Is this pickle juice?"

The boy nodded. "Uncle Jun keeps the liquor cabinet locked. I've tried unlocking it, but until my Professional Sleuth's Lockpicking Kit comes in the mail, I can't get it. This's the closest I can get to 'spirits', though it doesn't actually say what kind of spirits it is."

Matthew sat back on his heels. "Is this alchemy?"

"No, it's witchcraft," Elliot replied, in a tone tinged with an incredible amount of "Oh-My-God-You're-Dumb". "Ugh, don't breathe at me. You smell gross." Yet the boy still leaned forward, his eyes wide, and asked, "What're you sick with? Can I extract it from you?"

Lilly returned with a broom and dustpan at that moment, holding it triumphantly over her head like a wrestler's championship belt. "I found it!"

Wiping his hands on his pants, Matthew grabbed the broom. "Can you hold that for me, please?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, so...I have a question," he began, gently sweeping the puddle toward her. "Why do you want to be a dragon?"