I shrugged at Nen. “I’ve got work. Work work, but not like, work work,” I said, realizing belatedly that it was ridiculous to try and make the differentiation.  “Like, a magical job, not a standard 9-to-5 kind of thing.”

He just watched me with those eyes of his that occasionally contained more of a luminous nature than expected. “With whom?” he asked gently.

I cursed.  Fifteen minutes on the phone and I didn’t get a name. “Um, a friend… maybe… of Rohana’s?” I answered. “Anyway, she’ll be wearing a blue vest and jeans and will order a chocolate milk with whipped cream.”

“So a date,” he said.

“Um?” I’m pretty sure my eyes narrowed at him. “I’m helping her out with what’s probably a sigil that didn’t discharge correctly.  Not having coffee with a stranger off the internet, or whatever kids do these days.”

“You’re having coffee with a stranger from a phone call,” Rayya said, resting against the arm of the futon. “The difference may be too subtle for my brother to discern.”

“Well, neither of us are having coffee, if that helps,” I said, letting my tone be so sardonic it could be a polished example of chalcedony.

“No,” Nen said, brightly. “We’ll be circumspect.”

“We? Both of you?” I asked.

“Rayya has a feeling.” Nen shrugged. Sometimes I thought there was some kind of difference to their shrugs, but it was subtle enough that I guess I didn’t catch it. I don’t know that they always mean the same thing with a shrug that I might, but it filled in the other silences of their body language so that I just took it for mortar.

“A feeling,” I said. “Can I know more about this feeling? Does Rayya often have feelings? Do these feelings mean anything or should I just not hurt them?”

Rayya gave me a very human look of being done with my querulous nature.

I took the hint. “Well, I should at least freshen up. You guys do…whatever it is you do.”

Neither of them moved as I went past them into my sanctuary, I mean, my bedroom.  I could see that Nen had returned my trade paperback of the first volume of Rat Queens.  He at least used the right piles – Rayya was more likely to straighten a pile and reorganize everything.

“Which shirt, which shirt…” I decided to pick at random as otherwise it really was too much like preparing for a date. Which it wasn’t. You can meet a random woman (she self-identified) without it being a date. This was work-related. Business, not pleasure, literally.

Yeah, I shaved and put on extra deodorant.  No harm in that.  Probably time for a haircut, too.  I looked at my reflection in the mirror for a brief glance, then put the tiniest bit of product in my hair. Purely professional.  I would have put on a suit if that was the kind of job I was being hired for… and I didn’t know that there was any money in this. Most of the magical economy was favor-based, and I didn’t grow up in Bartertown.

“Hey Master & Blaster, you two ready?” I called out.

“Do you refer to my brother and I?” Rayya asked, appearing in the doorway of my room. She had chosen to replace her white hijab with one that was almost identical if you were not as much a keen observer as myself. This one was made of a finer material, looking softer.  I looked carefully and guessed she’d done her weaving of glamour from my very soft bathrobe. (You should always have a soft bathrobe. It’s the difference in winter between the necessity of a shower versus the indulgence.  Plus, it isn’t like having to immediately wear pants.)

“You’re more Chip & Dale,” I decided.

“If so, my brother is the one with the red nose.”

“Dale, I think,” I said.  “Which, out of context, makes me think of the Riders of Rohan.”

“Your synapses are powered by pop culture memes and the occasional nerdy reference,” she said, solemnly.  I looked at her after drying my face in the blue towel that was a staple in my bathroom.  “And what are little spriggans made of?” I asked. “Sugar and knives and everything spice?”

She looked at me with suspicion and then the sudden expression one makes when all the blood drains from their face.  She took a step back.

“What did I say?” I asked, concerned.

She shook her head and then turned, disappearing. Not just going around the corner, but pulling the whole eerie folding-into-space disappearing. The kind cats do, naturally, before you find them on the couch licking themselves.

“Nen?” I asked, maybe sounding a little plaintive.

There was no response.  I turned out the light and left the bathroom, looking around the living room. “Nen?  Rayya? Did I say one of those words that chases you guys off like church bells?”

It was quiet.  It was empty.

It was twenty minutes to the coffee shop, and I didn’t have time to spare.  I picked up my keys from the little octopus cup and looked around again. Nothing.  “Guys?”  Nothing.  “I’m leaving.”

Nothing.

Rayya wasn’t the only one with feelings. I felt very weird, very vulnerable. I checked to make sure I was wearing pants about three times.  I checked my pockets for my wallet twice, and I even checked to make sure I wasn’t wearing glasses. I found my keys in my hand at least once.

The coffee shop was one of those generic ones that would open up in your linen closet if you gave them a good rate. It was pretty busy for what I would have thought pretty late at night, but I guess the caffeine keeps people awake.

I ordered my special drink.  It was pink and foamy.  My rabies-in-a-plastic-cup was sweet, though, and they decorated the giant ‘E’ I had them write on my cup.

“Chocolate milk. No ice, but, um, whipped cream please?”