"Whatcha' doin' under there little Sprite?" Al snapped as he flipped over the edge of the iron stairs outside his building, leaving him casually hanging upside-down like a bat.

"AHHHH!!!"

As the two children both hyperventilated, a crack of lighting illuminated the sky, followed a rolling roar of thunder. The torrential downpour continued relentlessly, as both took their time to catch their breath. A nine-year-old Earnestine Wren clutched their knees close, shaking, freezing and wet, and terrified. While the boy finally released his his grip, happily flopping down into a puddle nearly fifteen centimeters deep.

"So..." he said cautiously, sitting up to face his pitiful intruder, without any regard to the freezing rain pelting down on him, "What's up?"

"Stay away! Don't come any closer!"

"Listen Sprite, you're on my property. Don't presume to boss me around."

Tears began to steam down the child's face, "Don't- Please don't eat me..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Alistair was instantly irked by the insinuation.

"I KNOW what you are! Stay away from me!"

"I've never seen you before in my life," he replied, increasingly annoyed, "What makes you think you know me?"

"My mother told me. What you are, so- so stay back!"

"'Zat so? And what exactly is it that you think I am that's got you so scared, hm?"

"You're- you're a water-horse, one of those man-eating shapeshifters! My mom said-"

"You're mom's a liar."

"So you're saying it's not true?" the pitiful huddled child asked incredulously.

"Well... no," he replied, "But your mother is definitely a liar. That much is tue."

"Shut up!"

After a moment of apprehention the child spoke again, "Um... Can I get your name?"

"HA! Nice try little one, but you'll have to do better than that!"

Earnestine again burst into tears, wailing, "I'm not good at ANYTHING! I'm useless! I'm useless to my family! I'm a FAILURE at everything I'm SUPPOSED to be! I can't DO THIS anymore!"

"Hey chill, CHILL! What are you even talking about??"

"I'm not like them! I'm not like my sisters! I'm not a flower!" the pitiful creature before him continued, between uncontrollable sobs, "I was born without a voice. I'm WEAK! I don't know who I am. I'm not even sure I'm a girl."

Alistair suddenly felt a pain in his chest; was this sympathy? He couldn'tquite say for sure, "So what?!"

"W-What do you mean 'so what?'"

"So what the fuck does that have to do with you hiding under here? I mean, I personally am diggin' this weather, but I can't imagine you're enjoying it. Besides, this staircase is made of iron. Don't you people hate that shit?"

"That's stupid, it's steel, not iron," the child rubbed their nose.

Well, THAT'S something I'll have to remember later, he thought to himself. 

He sighed, "Go home, kid."

"No! Never! I'm running away. I'm going to the port. And if I'm just a 'kid' then so are you!"

"What makes you think we're the same age?"

"You- you people age slowly, right? We're practically the same."

"Welp, you got me there, but I hate to break it to ya' that you ain't going anywhere in this weather. The swells are too big," he hesitated, "Come inside."

"No way in HELL! I'm getting out of this place if it kills me! ...honestly, I think I'd rather just die."

"Fine! Freeze to death out here! But don't do it under my stairs!" 

Alistair stood with every intention of getting back to work on the roof of his newly aquired property. He only made it about five paces though before he shouted in frustration and turned back. He grabbed Earnestine and yanked the kid up to their feet. 

"What makes you wanna die so much, huh?! Are you stupid or something?! Just get in the damn house!"

He dragged his unwanted guest out from under the fire escape, around the building and threw them through the front door.

"If you REALLY wanted to die than why would you give a shit about me eating you, huh?!"

"I..." his new captive began, now all out of tears, just numb, "I don't know who I am... what I am. All I know is that I'm not who I'm supposed to be..."

"Ugh," he replied, disgusted, "What bullSHIT."

"Shut up! You... wouldn't understand."

"The hell I wouldn't!" he took a long drag from a clearly homemade vaporizor, "Look- forget about what you're supposed to be. What do you want to be?"

"What does that matter? I can't change what I am."

"Ugh! It's not about changing who you are now. It's about realizing what you've always been."

"I... don't understand."

"Fine, lemme' put it this way- If you could be anyone, or anything, what would it be?" he threw a ragged towel over the little one's shoulders.

"Hypothetically?"

"Just answer the question."

A long and somber silence followed.

"I'd be a boy... just an average human guy."

"So that's what you are then. Me too, for that matter."

"But that's not what I am. And it sure as hell isn't what you are either!"

"Says WHO?! Who get's to tell me WHO or WHAT I am?" 

"I... I don't know..."

Earnestine looked down at the floor for a long time before finally speaking, "I know why you got kicked out of school."

"Yeah, so what?"

"So is it true? Did you... really cut off her finger and eat it?"

He hesitated, and sighed again.

"Yes," he replied, "But she deserved it. Besides... that bitch... She'll be fine. It'll grow back."

"Fucking hell! Grow back?! Fingers dont just 'grow back,' yknow!"

He glanced back, "Y'know... you talk like you know everything. But really, you don't know shit. It's annoying. You don't even know what you are."

"Do you always spew so much bullshit to your next meal? Or is it just me?"

He ignored her and flipped on the old TV and VCR.

"So even if the rest of the entire world, your family, your friends... everyone... says otherwise, you're just gonna keep on insisting they're wrong?"

"Yes."

"And you're gonna spend the rest of your life correcting them?"

"Yes."

"You're fuckin' stupid."

"Maybe. But I'd rather be stupid than a coward like you."

"I am not a coward!"

"Then prove me wrong ya' bullshit cry-baby!"

"I will!" 

After a few moments of silence, Alistair started rummaging through a box of old videos.

"Have you ever seen 'The Iron Giant?'"

"The what?"

"It's a movie, a cartoon."

"Um... no. I haven't."

He popped a tape into the VCR, and grabbed to beers from a cooler. He turned to Earnestine, still huddled on the floor, and held out one.

"Wanna watch it?"

"Um... I'm not old enough to drink... and neither are you."

"I'm twenty."

"So what? You look twelve. And you act like it too."

"Are you refusing my hospitality?" he replied in a threatening tone.

"I... guess it would be in my best interest not to."

"And you'd be guessing right, so take the drink and sit your soggy ass down," he said, shoving the bottle into her hands and pulling out two ragged lawn chairs. 

Alistair sat back and took a huge swig from his bottle. He grabbed the remote and pressed play. 

Sabre and Olly had wobbled successfully up the modified fire-escape that led to her front door.

"Welp," Sabre said, nervous for some reason, "This is me."

"Right you are," Olly replied, his checks flush, from the alcohol Sabre had assumed.

"I don't thint it was really needed, but, in any case, thank you for walking with me," Sabre pulled out the key.

"The pleasure, it-it was all mine," Olly stammered, as he reached out for her hand.

She pulled back instinctively, then corrected herself. 

Could it be that these brutes have some sense of decorum after all? She extended her had, he took it and lightly bowed, gently kissing the top of it he hand. 

Still bowed, Olly looked up at her, eyes sparkling with hope, "May I walk you home again sometime, lass?"

"Oh, um- er-," Sabre felt her cheecks begin to warm up, suddenly realizing this was clearly intended to be a clumsey attempt at courtship, "I see no reason why not."

"Awesome! That's awesome! I- Ahem, I mean," he turned back to head down the stairs, trying his best to play it cool and failing miserably, "I'll see you soon!"

She opened the door to her loft, but looked back one more time to see Olly practically skipping back down the street. Sabre smiled and shook he head as she closed the door behind her.

Exhusted, she checked all the locks and collapsed on the squeaky but comfortable mattress. For the first time since her ...confronation with her land lord, she feel asleep in her own bed and slept deeply, on into the night.

It was dark by the time Alistair left church. Sister Irena insisted on escorting him back into town. Harboring secret guilt for forcing Alistair to go to a doctor, she was determined to not let Dr. Simmons be a bother to him.

"I don't need a bodygaurd."

"Indeed," she replied, "We are well aware that you can handle yourself should and unwelcome situation should arise."

"Do you always have to be such a bother?"

"Short answer? Yes."

"..."

"I am merely tending to my flock, Alistair..." Irena hesitated, "I'm sorry."

This got a reaction from him as her spun around, "Sorry? The great and pious Sister Irena is sorry? Whatever for?"

"I shouldn't have taken you to the clinic."

Al turned and continued to plod down hill towards mainstreat.

He sighed, "What's done is done. There's no need to dweel on in, Sister. I mean, everyone knows you're just a hard-ass-"

"Language, young man!" Irena intrerrupted.

"I'll be fine from here, Sister," he ignored her, "You get back befor the snow kicks up again."

"Yes, off I go," she looked him deep in the eyes, "and Alistair, stay out of trouble."

It sounded more of a threat than a piece of advice, but Al knew that was just the way she was, She turned back to head up the road that would have he back at the Mission. 

Irena had been notoriously tight-lipped about her past before she had joined the Catholic Church as a nun, requesting a remote post, far from her motherland, Russia. There were of course rumors surrounding her when she first arrived (as was unavoidable when anybody new settled into town), claiming she had requested political assylum or that she was in some kind of international whitness relocation program.

Nonsense, all of it, Alistair easily dismised. Who was he to take part in such speculation, when it was usually he, himself, that was often the source of rumors in town. 

After about seven years though, his interactions with Irena only lended truth to what others has assumed. She ran her school like a boot camp. She was as deciplined as any special forces soldier. She believed in order, strength, and responsibility, as if it had been drilled into her psyche from the moment she was born.

The real kicker, for Al, at least, was ther her... particular skill set extended far beyond that of a common Sister of the Catholic faith. 

She was EMT certified. He'd seen her practicing Krav Maga while tending the gardens. Everytime the fair was in town she indulged in the archery contest... and won every time. He had even seen her scale the eighteen-foot couryard wall, like someone who'd practiced par-kour their whole lives, just to take down a bird's nest and move it to a safe laction.  

Her turned back towards town, already on autopilot to the pub. He hated to admit it, but he was more at ease with Irena around. Nothing escaped her watchful eye. Nothing.

The clammoring din from Brennen's pub, the warm gowing of the building, filled to the brim with people, all there to forget their woes, was a welcome site to Alistair as he approached the bar. 

Just before he grew near, however, Sabre MacGregor and Oliver Crown burst throught the front door in all their tipsy glory, being egged on by Earnie Wren, who was obviously shooing them on home. 

But why is Olly leaving with HER? Al scoweled, still int the shadows.

The two stumbled in the direction of his home...or rather, her home. 

He stood in the shadows for a solid five minutes, watching her bouncy curls dance in the wind. Suddenly she slipped, and Oliver quickly but his arm around her shoulder. They continued on down the road like that. For some reason, Alistair felt frozen in place, axiety creeping up his neck for no appearent reason at all. Before his blood began to boil he burst throught the front doors of the bar, only to be tackled by Earnie.

"Somebody het this guy a drink, STAT!" Earnie sloppily declared, "Whould ya look at that face!"

"Ugh! Get off!" Al said shoving his oldest friend back into a barstool. 

"Rye today Al?" Ms. Dagmar asked as she swept throught the billiard room, collecting empty glasses and trash on a tray. 

Al slumped into a booth, where Tember and Earnie were flipping coins into a cup. Confused and frustrated... all the guilt that had been plagueing him, that should STILL be plagueing him, had somehow shifted into a neigh uncontrollable rage. 

What the FUCK is wrong with me? Al wasn't exactly the most in touch with his feelings, but this shit was downright rediculous. 

He had no logical reason to feel this way. If anything, he often felt realieved after confessional... emotionally exhausted, but relieved nuntheless. So WHY? Why was he so angry? What set him off? 

"Allllll? Helllooo, young man?" Ms. Dagmar repeated, "You come here just take in the scenery?"

He clentched his jaw, "Wine," his eyes narrowed dangerously, "Astrid's Wine, a bottle."

This caught Earnie's attention, "Al? What- *hic* What's wrong?"

Dagmar smith took a moment to stand up strait as an arrow, "You SURE about that-?"

"Nghhh," a shit-face Tember sprang to life, "She's... nnot gonna' like that bro..."

Everyone jumped as Astrid herself slamed a huge bottle of blood-red wine down on the table. She looked down at Alistair condecendently.

"You're lookin' even more haggard than usual."

Al looked up with equal parts resentment and frustration. She smirked, popped the cork and poured two generous glasses, shooing away Tember and Earnie by giving them the key to the pool table.

Alistair sighed, "You still gonna' take every change you get to rub salt in my wounds, huh?"

"Shut up and drink."

And they did. Two glasses later, Astrid lit a cigarette, and finally spoke, "It's particularly interesting when you can't even see the wounds yourself..."

A cloud of salty steam escaped Al's mouth as he retorted, "And I suppose you're here to enlighten me... purely of your own good will?"

"HA! Any good will I'd have had for you was gone the second you ate my finger you goddamn animal," she smirked, "This, this is entertainment."

"I can't imagine what you would find so entertaining..."

"Hahaha! You!" she leaned in close, "Mr. Dirk. You're jealous."

"Jealous of what? What are you talking about? I've been jealous before. It doesn't make me feel this way."

"Bwahahah! Hah-hah! Haaaaahhh," Astrid wiped a tear, as Alistair gave her a death stair.

Tember had passed out cold, but Earnie, who still had his wits about him, just barely, finally piped up, "Puberty!"

"What!?" Al reeled back, discusted but the thought.

Astrid took one last look sip of wine and stood, "There's no escaping my dear. Enjoy puberty."