Sabre took in the scene as the three friends sat near the fire. Aside from the fact Al was now down to a thin t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and still sweating, they looked like a perfectly normal group of kids; not kids, rather, but young adults... seeing as how they were all older than her. Even though Wen sat furthest from him, and she did look slightly uncomfortable with the scenery, or maybe the choice of company, it was clear that there were just as many people in town that didn't consider him an actual threat.

"Hey! You!" Sabre snapped out of her musings.

"C'mon, Al, her name is Sabre," Earnie interjected, "Do you have to be so rude?"

"Yes."

Earnie gave him a scolding look, but Al ignored her.

He turned back to Sabre, who was still sitting behind the counter, "Toss me the church key would ya'?"

"Uhm... the what now?" she began to glance around frantically.

"The church key! C'mon now, it's right in front of you! Not there! No, not there either. No! Are you fucking blind? It's right there!"

"Hey!" Earnie threw his empty bottle at him, which he quickly ducked, "You moron! It's obvious English is her second language, dipshit! How's she supposed to know what the fuck you're talking about?! Poor girl's over there lookin' for an actual key for God's sake!"

"Don't you dare take the Lord's name in vain in my house you cunt! 'N stop throwing shit you're gonna' wreck my stuff!"

"Your stuff is already wrecked!"

Sabre stood, frozen, looking at the shattered bottle on the floor.

"Sabre," Wen calmly interjected, "He's talking about the bottle opener. 'Church key' is just slang."

"Ah..." Sabre picked up the bottle opener and another drink from the cooler.

She walked over to offer Earnie a fresh beer, which he gladly accepted, and then gave Al the bottle opener.

"There!" Earnie sat back down, "It's all settled."

"I expect you to clean that shit up," Al casually added.

"Right then!" Wen continued, "Let's have a game."

Wow, Sabre thought to herself, These people are bi-polar as fuck.

"Don't you have work to do today?" Al sneered.

"Nope," replied Wen, cheerily.

"I'm off for the rest of the day too," Earnie leaned back on his elbows.

"Ughh, fine. What kind of game then?"

"A question game of course!" Earnie's eyes lit up, "We need to get to know the new lass after all, right?"

Al rolled his eyes, "Rules?"

"Same as always."

"Yeah, but explain it for Sabre," Wen pointed out.

"What kind of game are we talking about here?" Sabre was confused, but actually a bit excited to be included.
She had been alone for so long... Not that she minded all that much. She was always a bit of a loner, but every once and a while it became... well, frankly, depressing. And she couldn't even remember the last time she had hung out with people about her same age.

"Okay!" Earnie leaned forward rubbing his hands together mischievously, grinning from ear to ear, "We each take turns asking one of us a question about themselves. If you're asked a question, you have to answer, and truthfully. If you refuse to answer, you drink."

"Well then I'm about to get wasted," Al rolled his eyes yet again.

I don't think I'm going to like this game... Sabre grabbed another beer from the cooler.

Back at the tea shop, Ephram Wren, directed his two younger daughters, Azalea and Rosette, to start cleaning up.

"Already?" Rosie inquired, "Are we closing up early today?"

"I think we should," Mr. Wren replied, "It's nice to take the afternoons off sometimes, don't you think?"

"Yeah!" she replied, eyes shining, "Can Azzie and I go to the park to play then?!"

"Only after you finish up helping me clean."

"I'm on it!" Azzie shouted from the kitchen, both girls began to scurry about, cleaning at a feverous pace.

Ephram Wren gathered up the receipts and sat down to fill out the spread-sheet for the day. After a few moments of idly tapping his pencil on the paperwork, he realized he couldn't concentrate. The unexpected visit from Dr. Anne had thrown him out of his comfort zone. 

It's that boy, Alistair... This is all his fault! 

His lack of tact and horrible attemps to blend in had become a problem for all of them. 

In all brutal honesty, Ephram couldn't care less about him, and all the better if some scientist got ahold of him and chopped him up into little pieces... But... In that scenario, there was potential to cause trouble for his own family as well.

He glanced back at the kitchen, "You girls be careful with those dishes."

"We know!" they said in unison.

He returned to his paperwork but again, stopped half-way through.

He nodded curtly to himself. Anne Simmons was sharp as a tack. He was sure that's exactly what she was trying to do. Sister Irena had been their last guest for today, and he had told her everything. Ephram knew she could be trusted, and he had always put his faith in her uncanny ability to handle situations like this.

At that very moment, Ireana was tossing her snow-caked coat over the back pew of the chapel. revealing a very confused looking chicken under her arm.

"A problem you say?" Tulla rushed over to her, "Is it... about the chicken?"

"Ugh! No, it's not," Irena dropped the hen on the floor and it promptly began pecking at the carpet, looking for seed that wasn't there, "The chicken is Jasper's. I just didn't want to leave the poor thing out there to freeze to death."

"I see," Father Allen said, slowly making his way down the aisle, "How kind you are Sister."

"Yes, yes, but never mind all that," Irena replied impatiently.

"What's the problem?" Tulla began to fret, "Is it about Miss MacGregor? Is she alright?"

"Yes, well no, maybe... Just calm yourself and let me try to explain."

Tulla nodded quickly as Father Allen took a seat next to Irena's thawing coat.

"I was looking for her, and I ended up at the tea shop. Mr. Ephram and I had a quite worrisome conversation. As it turned out, Miss MacGregor was there, and had left just before I arrived, with Earnestine and Wendy Duffy. She had ordered Al's usual drink, and it was clear that the girls were all on their way back to Alistair's shop. So, I believe Sabre has decided on renting his loft."

"Oh dear," Tulla covered her mouth, "Of all places... Do you think she'll be alright?"

"I'm sure the young lady will be fine," Father Allen assured her, "Alistair has made much progress on his road to redemption. I'm actually quite proud of him. I don't believe for a second that he would harm her."

"Father," Tulla hesitated, "I'm sure what you say is true, but... Do you really think he can control himself? With a person so close, all the time, night and day? How can we be so sure that his... instincts... won't get the better of him?"

"I agree," Irena chimed in, "It's wrong for us to allow her to gamble with her life, especially when she is completely ignorant of just who, or rather what, Alistair actually is."

"What Alistair Dirk is, is simply another tormented young soul in need of guidence. My dear Sisters," he said in a soothing tone, "Life itself is a gamble. And people should be allowed to live their lives without fear of what could happen when it has not yet come to be."

Irena sighed heavily, her frustration visible.

"Let us not forget that it is our duty to protect Alistair as well," he reminded.

"Yes Father," Sister Irena hesitated, "About that... Mr. Ephram also relayed to me a troubling conversation he had with Doctor Simmons..."

"Ah, so our young Anne has returned from graduate school. That's good to hear. Does she come to service?"

"No," Tulla answered, "Not for many years now."

"That's a shame... But dear Irena, what is it that troubles you about her visit to the tea shop?"

"She was asking about Mrs. Wren's health, and..." Irena looked down at the chicken as if it would have all the answers, "And she asked some rather pointed questions about Alistair. I cannot shake the feeling that we made a terrible mistake in taking him to the clinic when he broke his wrist. Ever since... Dr. Anne has been, well, quite frankly, obsessed with learning all she can about him. Granted, many of our congregation make it a past-time of talking about him, but... I'm beginning to worry she knows the truth about him... or at the very least has a strong hunch."

"But..." Tulla mulled it over, "Half the town knows the truth about where he came from... and the other half spread gossip and rumors of all sorts of their own theories, all poppycock."

"Perhaps... but Sister Irena's concerns don't seem to be entirely unfounded, this time," he winked. 

"This doesn't appear to be fueled by the usual rumor mill," Father Allen continued, rubbing his chin, "Anne is looking for hard evidence, as is her inclination to do so, being a scientist and all. I would never discourage curiosity, but with Anne's tenacity and ambition... I'm concerned she may exploit Alistair for her own personal gains."

"As am I," Irena nodded firmly.

"What should we do?" Tulla had become increasingly concerned.

"Well... For now, the best we can do is watch over him, and Miss MacGregor as well."

"I'll protect them Father," Irena put a firm hand on his shoulder, "I promise to you and God our Father, I will let no harm come to them."

"Yes, Sister. I am quite sure you will."

"Okay! I'll go first!" Wen said excitedly, "Sabre! Where are you from?"

Sabre hesitated. The answer was more complicated than Wen had probably intended.

"I'm from... Well, I was actually born here, but I don't remember it. My mother and I moved around quite a bit. My first memories are from when we lived in Switzerland. We moved to HongKong when I was five, then Busan-"

"Where's that?" Earnie interrupted.

"Hey! Only one question at a time! No cheating! Wait your turn!" Al scolded.

"It's okay," Sabre continued, "Busan is in South Korea. After that we moved to Vancouver, and then New York for some time. When I was twelve we moved back to Europe, Paris to be exact, but we didn't stay long. Dubai was the last place we lived, and we stayed there the longest so... I guess I'd say I'm from Dubai?"

"Whoooah!" Earnie was fascinated, "That is so cool! What a woman of the world you are!"

"Alright, alright, enough!" Al said impatiently, "Sabre, it's your turn now. Pick someone, and ask a question."

"I... can ask about anything?"

"Yup."

"Okay..." she suddenly felt like she was about to say something out of line, but she couldn't stop thinking about what that woman said to Earnie's father earlier, "Al, are you... are you really a witch?"

The whole room suddenly erupted in laughter, and Sabre's cheeks flushed. She wrapped her head scarf around her face in embarrassment, instantly realizing how ridiculous her question must have sounded. Earnie wiped a tear from his eye as he caught his breath. Al took a deep breath from his vaporizer and let it pour out his nose.

He looked at Sabre with an apathetic expression, "No."

Sabre waited a moment for him to elaborate, but it quickly became clear to her he had no intention of doing so.

Sabre crossed her arms, "Well, Mr. Dirk, I guess it's your turn now."

"Hm..." Al took a sip of his beer, "Okay then, my question is for you. You said you grew up and traveled with your mother. So, where is she now?"

Sabre suddenly felt like she'd been slapped in the face. She bent over the counter to look down to her feet. Even though she was wearing shoes... she knew, underneath, the scar was still there. She took a deep breath and looked up, a bitter expression written all over her face. Sabre snatched her bottle, and chugged the last half of her beer in one go.