"I've always wanted to fly," she explained, her tone calm and cheerful, "and it's always cold in my room, and I have a fireplace in my room except it doesn't work because there's a lot of stuff around it. Daddy said I can't use it, so I want to breathe fire into it. Ooo! Or, or, I can be a water dragon and swim with the krakens and Qalupaliks, like in Eli's books. I'm hoping I meet a Aspy...” She paused, glancing up at the ceiling. “Aspid – ”

“Aspidochelone?” Eli asked.

“Yeah, that one, because it's, like, a big, fat turtle that sinks sailors. And I wanna make a home on it so I can up – ” She stood up on her tiptoes. “ – and down – ” She squatted. “ – in the water. Also, Eli's wanted to try out one of the potions from his new spell book."

Matthew thoughtfully chewed the gum and pushed the puddle of juice and glass into the dustpan. He didn't know where to start with all that, let alone what to make of it. Grimacing, Matthew unstuck his feet from the stick-glossed floor, wondering whether to bother sweeping it up at all. "Throw that away?" he asked, though even he wasn't sure where the trash can was.

She trotted around the island and pulled out a square plastic trash can from around the corner.

"I...don't think you should try to...turn into a dragon," Matthew finally admitted.

"Why?" Lilly asked. "I want to fly."

“Yeah, why?” Elliot asked.

"Yeah, but do you have a way to change her back? Dragons can be pretty big. Do you know if you'll be a big dragon or a small one? You wouldn't fit in your room if you were big."

Lilly considered the thought for a moment, head cocked to the side in profound thought. "I like my room. And I have, like, five really good pillows. I'd, I guess I'd feel pretty sad if I couldn't get in it."

"What about the potion?" Elliot asked, standing up. He wiped the concoction of pickle juice and blood from small cuts on his pants.

Matthew squatted down. "Do you have everything you need to make it?"

Elliot glanced away, upper body swaying in slight agitation. "...no. Uncle Jun won't let me use any of the fireplaces to roast it. I could make it myself if he'd get me calcium phosphide."

Inhaling, Matthew reached into his hair and pulled a couple strands from his head. "Are you good at making curses?"

"Ugh, don't breathe on me. You smell like Uncle Jun."

"I know, right?" Lilly noted. "Is your medicine cinnamon?"

“Are you actually dying?”

"Are you good at making curses?" Matthew asked again.

Elliot nodded, brows furrowed together in confusion.

"Then take these." Matthew turned Elliot's hand over, placing the plucked strands in his palms. "Make a voodoo doll of me, because I applied to be your nanny, but I don't think I'm going to get it. If you're going to curse anyone, why not me?"

“You're not a girl,” she pointed out.

“Why do you wanna be our nanny?”

“He's not a girl, Eli.”

“Wh – I know that, dummy.”

Matthew paused for a moment before adding, "Also, I've always wondered what it would feel like to be cursed."

Elliot glanced at the hairs, then back to Matthew. "You're, just, letting me curse you?"

"Do you want to cast a spell on someone?"

He shrugged, eyes on the floor. "Well, yeah...but –"

"So there." Matthew stood, closing Elliot's hand around his plucked hairs. "Oh, but in the really, really small chance I get the job, you've got to destroy the doll. Fair?"

Elliot bobbed his head from side to side, sighing. "I guess."

"Shake on it."

The two shook.

"A gentleman's agreement for a curse." Matthew never thought he'd say those words in his life. Well, maybe in that order, definitely.

Elliot rubbed his knuckles together. "Can I kill you if you don't get the job?"

"Eli, doooon't," Lilly hissed. "He gave your his hair."

"That's..." Maybe this was too much for him to handle. "... that's right."

Groaning, the boy turned and slapped the hairs down on the counter. "Fiiiiiine. But you've gotta paint a sigil under your next mural."

Lilliana gave him a thumbs up and nodded.

Matthew straightened up. He grabbed his folder from the countertop. "Okay, I'm, glad you're okay. I've got to go back, now. Will you guys be okay over here?"

"I don't like cleaning, but I like it more when the floor's not sticky," Lilly explained. She swung a rag over her head and twirled it.

"We can clean up," Elliot whispered, leaning against the counter. "The stuff for a voodoo doll is all here, anyways. Can I show it to you before you leave?"

"Oh yeah," Matthew replied, his tone surprisingly enthusiastic. "I need to make sure you got my face right."

The boy nodded, grinning, which only lasted for a moment.

Matthew turned back for the living room. His heart sank.

Mr. Yang and Mrs. Weiss stood in the doorway to the dining room, watching. The older man, his arms crossed, stared daggers.

The older woman, who seemed to hold herself in hesitation, moved around the two men to collect the children. "Come with me, guys," she whispered. "Mr. Yang, I'll clean this up before I go."

"Hm," was all Mr. Yang replied with.

"Daddy, I like him," said Lilly, rag still in hand. "Don't be a bossy potato to him, okay?"

Moving past them, she ushered the children into a room just out of sight and closed the door.

"It's still smelly!" Lilly shouted.

Another door opened somewhere, slamming shut.

The children's voices suddenly rose as they pointed fingers at who was to blame for the jar shattering.

Mr. Yang sighed, his fingers pressed on the bridge of his nose.

Mrs. Weiss trotted around the long dining room table into the living room. Another door opened, then closed.

Matthew's nerves returned to their spot, sitting heavy in his stomach. Keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, he spluttered, "The ad I applied for didn't specify gender."

"She's explained her reasoning to me," the man replied, his words quickly following Matthew's. He folded his arms behind his back, brown eyes scanning the mess at hand. “Regardless, that doesn't change what and who I'm looking for.”

 Shifting his weight from one foot to the other could only take up so much time. "I...should get going. Thank you f –"

"Would you care for an interview?" he asked.

Matthew met the man's hard brown eyes.

Mr. Yang checked his watch, his other hand smoothing out his tie; he sighed. The grimace on his face remained. "My next applicant won't be arriving until three, and you did come all this way." His eyes moved back to Matthew, he waited for a reply.

"...if you'll let me."

"Hm," Mr. Yang murmured, turning and walking back towards his office.

Matthew followed. 'I'm a glutton for punishment, apparently,' he thought, fearing that this could've been the worst interview he's ever experienced in his entire life.