Mr. Cavendish and Zayne continued bickering in the living room over whether to take Iris to the hospital for more care or not and paid no mind to the other human's approach.
“There you are.” Byxx brushed past the annoyed Paxoram and reunited with Curtis as he entered from the narrow hallway. “Everything okay? What're those?”
Curtis looked up at the archfiend with a pained, drawn expression, as if deciding what he wanted to say next. Byxx stared down at him in kind with his usual friendliness that reminded Curtis of a curious golden retriever. It was hard to believe that the stern taskmaster from their earlier training had such a softness to him, but that was one of the qualities Curtis admired most in Byxx.
“What’s the matter?” Byxx leaned close enough for Curtis to feel waves of heat emanating from his body. “Curtis?”
“She had another panic attack.” Curtis found his voice and drew the attention of Zayne and Mr. Cavendish with his comment. “This one was pretty bad. I got her to take her medicine and I found these while looking for the right one.”
“How do you know which one is the right one?” Zayne wheeled around to face Curtis and bore down on the poor man with a critical eye.
“W-we take the same meds.” Curtis cowered away from the overbearing Paxoram. He held out two bottles of pills for the group to see, one with yellow capsules, and one with light blue tablets. “This one’s for anxiety. This one’s for insomnia. I don’t know what the rest are for.”
Zayne only suspected, but Byxx knew. He’d learned how to view search history results on Iris's laptop and had discovered it inadvertently while snooping over Khazmine’s browsing history. It was a shameful, regrettable deed, but Byxx had justified his initial subterfuge as unavoidable for determining what the Augment was up to.
The archfiend ran the tip of his tongue over one of his canine teeth with his mouth still closed. He had to pretend to know nothing about it, but Curtis wasn’t buying it. A subtle boggle in his honeyed eyes told Curtis that Byxx was being less than truthful, but he didn’t press the issue. As long as someone knew what they were for, Iris should be allowed some measure of privacy about her medical needs.
Please don’t ask me. Byxx pleaded silently, hoping that this kind human could manifest some latent magic powers to read his thoughts. Don’t make me more of a liar than I already am.
“Anyway, she took one of each and fell asleep.” Curtis let Byxx off the hook when he changed topics. “Oh, and I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Curtis, Curtis Harlynn.”
“Alden Cavendish.” He offered a firm handshake to Curtis, then reached out to Byxx.
“Oh, you might not want to shake, friend.” Byxx smiled as he gestured to his magenta palm and rubbed it against his white shirt sleeve, running streaks of Victorian Velvet on the cloth near the hem. “My makeup rubs off after a workout.”
“Ah, makes sense.” Mr. Cavendish pulled back his hand. “So, how do you—”
“He’s Cassie’s little brother, Vincent. But he goes by Byxx.” Curtis beamed with pride at being able to vouch for his friend. “And this whole getup is part of his character. You know, like for role-playing?”
Poor Mr. Cavendish was woefully out of touch with contemporary role-playing games, but he had at least heard of them many years ago, back in his university days. He managed to stifle a curiously raised eyebrow and give an approving nod of understanding instead.
She sure has a bunch of quirky friends. Mr. Cavendish allowed a slight smile to pass briefly over his lips. They seem like nice people, except for the blue-haired guy…
“And I’m sure you know Zayne already.” Curtis tilted his head at the Paxoram, wordlessly signaling to him to be nice to Iris’s boss. “Isn’t that right?”
“Mm-hm.” Zayne managed to grunt with lips pressed closed. He couldn’t promise to be civil if he allowed himself to speak.
Sensing the tension between them, Curtis opted to separate the pair. “That reminds me, can you show me where the medicine cabinet is, Zayne? These pill bottles should be stored there.”
“Sure. I know where they belong.” Zayne swaggered into the hallway, secure in the knowledge that at least he was useful and informed about important things in Iris’s home. “This way.”
The departure of the grumpy Paxoram felt like an oppressive weight lifted in the room, which softened further with Byxx’s presence. He had a casual sensibility about him that made Mr. Cavendish feel more at ease, like an older sibling or cousin might have done. Byxx rose from the couch and tilted his head toward his guest, before giving him a soft smirk.
“How about a drink, friend?” Byxx gestured with his head so that his horns pointed toward the kitchen. “I bet I can guess what you might like.” Byxx winked before turning toward the kitchen, which piqued Mr. Cavendish’s interest.
“It’s nice to meet more of Iris’s friends, even under the circumstances.” Byxx reached and rummaged for the tisane sachets and mugs, set the kettle to boil, and nonchalantly leaned against the kitchen counter with crossed legs. He could feel the tingling pinpricks of curiosity from Mr. Cavendish, and finally pressed on with a question. “Is there something you wanna ask me, friend?”
“You didn’t seem surprised when Curtis mentioned panic attacks.” Mr. Cavendish struggled to phrase his question properly and not put Byxx in a tight spot. “Does… Does that happen a lot?”
Byxx was unable to conceal the trembling, troubled muscles that twitched in his cheeks and nose. “More often than it used to.” The kettle bubbled with boiling water, and its faint shriek was silenced as Byxx removed it from the heat to decant into their respective mugs. “Especially after her mother died.”
The archfiend offered Mr. Cavendish a beautifully glazed stoneware mug, handmade by Iris herself. He felt the subtle grooves from her tiny fingertips, and traced along the delicate surface as if it were the back of her frigid hands. He knew so little about her past, and thirsted to soak up as much information as he could.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Mr. Cavendish admitted before taking a deep breath from the tisane. “She told me about the greenhouse and the teas, but I guess I didn’t make the connection.” He hesitated before bringing the mug closer to his face to drink.
“Relax, it’s a peppermint blend. No caffeine.” Byxx took an enormous gulp from his mug, and he appeared completely unaffected by the scorching hot beverage. “Anyway, thanks for coming out to help. I know you must be busy with work, so it means a lot that you’d care so much for our little Iris.”
“Are you and her—” Mr. Cavendish blurted out half of his question before silencing himself.
“No, nothing like that.” Byxx forced a chuckle and stared at his empty mug. “She’s more like a sister or cousin to us. In fact, she was my first friend in ages.”
Byxx’s mug clinked gently against the countertop as he set it beside the sink. It was a funny thing though, and Mr. Cavendish couldn’t quite place what was wrong with it at the time. The mug had an identical cerulean glaze to the one in his hands, but he still felt something was off about it. He grappled with the memory of Iris in the elevator with the GC&S tumbler that one night…
“It’s all in the details…”
The recollection haunted him, and Mr. Cavendish shuddered at the thought that he was missing some crucial details about the mug.
It's the same shape, color, texture… Cavendish narrowed his eyes and compared the two mugs. But something isn’t right. What am I missing?
“ARE YOU F****** SERIOUS?” Curtis raved, shuffling off his mild-mannered veneer, and shouting at Zayne in the hallway. His unexpected outburst drew Byxx and Mr. Cavendish to see what was the matter. “Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Keep your voice down.” Zayne shushed. “Do you want to scare her to death?”
Curtis clamped his lips shut and stormed into the living room with the Paxoram in tow. Byxx blocked the short human’s path, spreading his arms to rein Curtis in from dashing past him.
“Whoa, what’s the matter?” Byxx clasped his hands at Curtis’s sides to contain him, and he could feel the trembling rage vibrate the human’s entire body. Even though he was confined on the spot, Curtis stubbornly refused to respond, and simply looked away. “Come on, talk to me. What did you say to him, Zay?”
“Me? I just told him about the man who was following Iris, and he went off.” Zayne resented the implication that he’d done anything wrong and crossed his arms where he stood. “I tried to tell him that this time was different from the guy who gave her a bloody nose, but—”
Zayne stopped mid-sentence when he saw Byxx rapidly shake his head “no” for a half second. He’d forgotten that they were in mixed company, and that Mr. Cavendish was standing outside of Zayne’s peripheral vision. A brief glance at the human told him that he’d made a mistake.
“A bloody nose?” Mr. Cavendish blanched. His mouth dried out as he tried to speak, and his throat tightened as if he were choking to find the right words. “Is… Is she being mistreated?”
Zayne clenched his jaw tightly and produced Iris’s blood-stained cardigan that still had dark blotches from weeks ago. It had been on the laundry pile, neglected and forgotten by all but the Paxoram. The soft fabric had smears from when he’d tried to rub it clean, but the evidence was clear as day. Mr. Cavendish reached out to touch the cardigan hem and recognized it from when Iris wore it in the office.
“Leggo!” Curtis raised his arms to shake off the archfiend, who left trace amounts of Victorian Velvet on his exposed skin. He shuffled towards Mr. Cavendish accusingly with his words and pointed index finger as his weapons of choice. “You’re her boss, right? Can’t you do something?”
“Please, Curtis. It’s not his fault.” Byxx interrupted with a hand to block him from getting any closer to Mr. Cavendish. A firm, warm hand slid gently to Curtis’s upper back, and Byxx guided him to sit down in Zayne’s chair and relax. “He can’t have eyes everywhere, right?”
A jolt of remembrance struck Mr. Cavendish in the face, and he feverishly groped his pockets to retrieve his cellphone. He read an acknowledgment message from Mr. Reegan before replying with his own amendment.
“Everyone’s home and out of immediate danger.” Mr. Cavendish wrote. “When you get a quote from your security contact, add two extra micro cameras to the order, and have them billed to me separately, please. Thanks, I owe you one.”
With the raised voices finally silenced, the room settled into a precarious numbness. Byxx comforted Curtis, Zayne replaced the bloody cardigan in the laundry, and Mr. Cavendish stared at his phone, impatiently waiting for a reply.
Outside on the stoop, “Iris” was grateful for the advanced warning, and she donned the hooded bolero jacket to shift into her “Cassie” configuration safely. Had they not been shouting, she might not have heard Curtis and Mr. Cavendish’s voices inside. She treaded lightly to the door and entered to find her two roommates and their unexpected guests.
All eyes fixed on the Augment as she entered and waited for her belated greeting. “Hey guys, I’m home. What’d I miss?”
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