~ * Chapter 5 ~ *

"Tilt your head just a little bit more—no wait too much, a little—yes, okay, perfect don't move," Percy instructed.

Opposite him, the subject of the shoot smiled. Well, it was less of a smile and more of a predatory bearing of the teeth beneath red painted lips. Rhodes stood behind her sterile-white desk, her midnight blue blazer a stark contrast against the minimalistic and modern office as she leaned forward, hands braced against the barren desk. Her normally wild, black curls were tightly wound atop her head, save for a few wild tendrils that tumbled around her ears, drawing attention to her sharp jaw and nose. She looked ready to straight-up murder a man with her three-inch stiletto heels . . . although, to be fair, she always looked one wrong word away from manslaughter.

"Got it, you're all set, you can like move or scratch your nose or whatever," Percy said, straightening up and checking his camera.

"Pft." Rhodes pushed off her desk, her heels clicking in loud, sharp staccatos as she stalked over to where he stood.

"Good?"

"Perfect," Percy said with a grin, turning the camera so she could see some of the images as he flicked through. "I wish every shoot went so smoothly. The blazer was perfect. Is your desk always this bare or do you just like not do any work here?"

Rhodes laughed, a sharp sound that cut through the air like a knife. It was a sound that courtrooms across New York hated, but to Percy, it just reminded him of diving after dark in murky, shark-infested waters, and near-death encounters with illegal fishermen. Which sounded unpleasant but were really the highlight of Percy's childhood (teenhood? Rhodes hadn't taken him on her more dangerous adventures until he was thirteen, but she was getting him into trouble long before that).

"Cute," she teased, pinching his cheek.

Percy batted her hand away and she laughed again, strolling back to her desk to grab her purse, which she had expertly hidden out of sight behind one of the legs. She slipped the purse down to her elbow and walked towards the door.

"Come on then, little brother, let's grab some lunch and talk shop. There's a sweet little sandwich shop on the first floor—all their food is sustainable and responsibly sourced. The vegan BLT is to die for."

"Sure, I'll take your word for it," said Percy, who was one hundred percent positive he would rather go hungry than try the vegan BLT.

(But he made a mental note to bring Grover by. Rhodes and Grover were two weird peas in a pod, her being an environmental attorney and him with his environmental science degree. Percy supposed working in similar industries would do that, even if Rhodes's methods were more extreme and hostile in nature while Grover was more of a peace and love kind of dude).

"So, these are for your magazine and not the website, right?"

"The magazine," Rhodes confirmed, linking her arm through his and leading him towards the white hallway of her office building.

Rhodes was an inch taller than him without the heels and he felt like a bumbling teenager once again as he looked up at her with these stupid 3-inch death traps on. Then again, maybe he never grew out of the bumbling idiot stage of his life, Percy thought as he somehow managed to whack his nose against the door when Rhodes opened it. Rhodes laughed at him some more, dragging him down the hallway. Her associates all ducked their heads and scuttled out of the way as Rhodes strutted by, casting looks that were equal parts frightened and awed.

"Want to have a piece for our win at the courts."

"I thought you hadn't won yet?"

Rhodes granted him one of her knife-sharp grins. "Not yet, little brother. But we will."

She's going to eat that defense attorney alive, Percy thought as she pulled him into the elevator.

"And the fact that you got arrested in February for destruction of—"

"–they were illegally imported fish—they were, dammit Percy, they were sunfish—"

"I know Rhodes, but you can't set fire to people's boats—"

"It won't affect the case," Rhodes dismissed.

"Should you be doing this shit while you're still on the FBI watchlist as a potential eco-terrorist threat?"

Rhodes's grin was answer enough. Percy thought for a moment, then swung his camera up and snapped a picture of his sister.

"Gotta get pictures in before they arrest you for being crazy and unstable." He patted her on the arm as the elevator dinged. "Don't worry, I'll visit." He paused, head cocked to the side. "Sometimes."

Rhodes snorted. "Please. Like a judge could ever convict me. And you'd visit me every week. Your life would be too boring without me, baby brother."

She scrapped her daggerlike fingernails through his hair, something she'd done ever since he was a baby and something he'd hated ever since he was a baby. He shoved her away and she pulled him back, ruffling his hair one more time and placing a wet kiss on his head.

"God, you're so gross, stop it, Rhodes, I'm twenty-five years old you can't be doing this to me."

"But you'll always be our baby brother," Rhodes cooed, pinching his cheeks. "Come on, I'm starving."

Percy made a face but didn't resist too much as Rhodes dragged him off the elevator and into the main lobby. Percy blinked rapidly, trying to force his eyes to adjust as they stepped into what both he and Rhodes affectionately called the fishbowl due to its all-glass walls. Rhodes didn't give him time to adjust, dragging him over to the newly opened cafe. People darted out of their path, hiding away in corner booths or looking down at their shoes as though it made them invisible. Like marlin before a shark, Percy thought before he was being shepparded into the cafe line.

"I'll have the vegan BLT and a large iced coffee, black," Rhodes waved a hand at Percy, "and whatever he's having. Put it on my tab."

"Rhodes, you don't have to—"

"–shut up and pick a food. Besides, you're my photographer, so, technically, this is a business expense."

Percy snorted, his inside squirming a little as he squinted at the menu. He hated when Rhodes paid for things. He knew she was just trying to be helpful. He also knew it wasn't fair to compare his career/financial situation with Rhodes'—she was fifteen years older than him after all. She'd also gone to law school and didn't chase after a fool's dream. But still, the stark reminder of how spectacularly he'd failed in life thus far that he couldn't even afford one overpriced sandwich made him want to crawl inside an underwater cave and never come out.

"Try the opened faced cod sandwich with kettle chips."

"Yeah, alright," Percy acquiesced with a sigh.

They found a table near the front, Rhodes slamming her tray down with more force than necessary. His sister made a ton of noise as she got settled, dragging the chair against the floor at just the right angle so it made an angry screeching sound, her shoes clicking loudly as she settled in and kicked her feet up on the seat next to the chair Percy claimed in a far quieter fashion opposite her.

"Let's square up now," Rhodes said, stealing one of his kettle chips and popping it into her mouth.

She crunched with her mouth open as she settled back into her seat, taking a long drink of her disgusting coffee as she groped around for her purse. She finally found it and plopped it on the table, pulling out a checkbook.

"A checkbook, what century is this?"

"I could Venmo you, but then the firm might accuse me of favoritism."

"That's fair."

She scribbled on the check and signed with an unnecessary flourish, tearing the check out and handing it across the table to him. Percy grabbed the offered item and Rhodes set back, reaching for her coffee once more.

"What no, hey, Rhodes you can't pay me this much," Percy said eyes widening at the number on the check.

Rhodes made a noise, waving her hand as she took a bite of her sandwich.

"Rhodes, no, I'm serious. This was barely even a shoot, it was just a couple snaps for a magazine cover."

"If you think for one second that whole 'it's barely even a shoot' thing would fly with any of the big photographers in town, you're dead wrong. They'd charge me an arm and a leg just to show up. If you think I'd pay any other photographer less," Rhodes snorted talking with her mouth full because none of his father's children had manners. "We're a humanitarian firm, we do shit like this, just, just take it, all right? And stop your bellyaching. It's not charity, it's payment."

Percy shoved a handful of kettle chips in his mouth, dropping the subject. He tucked the check away in his camera bag. His discomfort and self-loathing must have shown on his face because Rhodes reached across the table and patted his hand.

"Come, come, little brother knock that shit off. You're an amazing photographer and deserve to get paid as such. Besides, it's not like you're a deadbeat. You've got jobs and your own apartment—which is more than I can say for a certain leech brother of ours."

"He's back at Dad's."

"Yeah, what a loser," Rhodes snorted, leaning back in her chair and picking up her sandwich. "He totally got his ass fired from that last gig. Went over to Dad's the other day to try and get them to kick him out. Didn't work, obvi."

Rhodes took a bite if her gross looking vegan sandwich, licking vegan mayonnaise or whatever dressing vegans used, off her thumb because again, no manners. "Dad said something though. About you. And some girl."

Percy's face grew hot.

"Dad doesn't know what he's talking about," Percy muttered, picking up his sandwich (which was hard to do since it didn't have two slices of bread what the heck was this?). He took a bite to stave off any more questions.

It didn't work.

"Uh-huh, whatever you say, little brother. Your words may say not but your lobster-red face says yes."

Percy scowled, feeling his face flush even darker. Dammit. Rhodes laughed at him, grinning with her mouth full of food as she took another long drink from her coffee.

"Chew with your mouth closed, it's disgusting," Percy said, flicking a kettle chip at her instead of responding.

"Fine. Keep your secrets, little brother. But," Rhodes took another bite of her nearly finished sandwich. "tell your new friend if she breaks your heart, I'll break her face."

"Rhodes—"

"I'm just sayin'. If Rachel hadn't conveniently left the country—"

"–Rhodes, we've talked about this, it wasn't just Rachel—"

"–I legit could not care less. Eat your sandwich."

The sandwich was actually super delicious, and Percy decided once he got paid next he would definitely be bringing Grover around to try the café. Rhodes saw him off with a gross kiss on the head right on the front step of the firm's exit, because she was terrible like that, and shouted after him to: "visit me more you ungrateful hermit!"

Percy kept his head low, trying to scrub off the lipstick he knew she'd left behind (she purposefully wore the kind that would leave a mark because she was the worst). He hugged his camera bag close, rubbing furiously at his forehead as he wove through the crowded street. He was so preoccupied that he almost missed it when an unfamiliar voice called out his name: "Percy! Percy!"

"Eh?"

Percy froze, head snapping up. Of course, stopping dead in the middle of New York traffic, foot or otherwise, was a bad idea—the couple behind him smacked right into Percy's back, sending him stumbling forward.

They hurled 'watch it's' at each other, Percy anxiously checking his camera bag for any damage.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you okay?"

"You're way too polite to be out on the street," Percy said as the owner of the mysterious voice ran up to him.

"Oh dear, that was terribly rude," Helena Chase fretted, holding onto her husband's arm with both hands as they hurried closer to him, her eyes roaming over his form with concern.

"That's New York," Percy chuckled. "And I'm fine really. No harm done. You guys going to see Annabeth?"

"Yes, are you heading back to the apartment?"

"Yeah, I need to drop some stuff off," Percy said, gesturing towards his camera bag. "But ah, I don't think Annabeth's home from work yet."

"Oh." Helena and Fredrick exchanged a look.

"But ah, I mean, feel free to tag along, maybe she'll get out early to spend more time with you," Percy added lamely, hunching his shoulders and tugging at the zipper of his camera bag.

"No, she won't," Fredrick said ruefully. "But thank you. She gave us a key so I guess we'll just let ourselves in."

"She has like a million different teas you can try," Percy suggested as a pink-haired college brat shoved their way between Percy and his fake girlfriend's parents. "But ah, here, let's get moving before someone shoves us into the street for holding up traffic, c'mon, it's shorter this way."

"Thank you so much for being so helpful," Helena sighed fifteen minutes later when they were climbing up the stairs of the apartment building. "I suppose you were busy at work huh?"

"Ah, yeah, I just, ah, finished a shoot this morning." Percy tapped his bag with what he hoped wasn't a totally guilty I-was-photographing-my-sister-because-I-can't-get-a-real-job kind of look.

"Oh really? Of what?"

"Um, a lawyer," Percy muttered, feeling his neck grow warm. "Who's ah, about to win a big case. Shoot for a magazine you know."

"Oh, how exciting, do you know what the case is about?"

"Um, yeah, it's an environmental thing—the firm is litigating against commercial fishing. The defendant totally is contracting foreign workers to get around American fishing laws and they're causing like a ton of damage and putting endangered species at even great risk—sunfish!" Percy exclaimed, his voice filling the hallway as he shuffled his bag around, feeling for his apartment key. "They were caught with a boat full of sunfish fins! Just the fins, these monsters were—"

Percy paused outside his apartment door, key finally in hand as he blinked at Annabeth's parents, who were staring at him with an expression he couldn't quite read, but was weirdly soft around the edges and looked to be a cousin of the dreaded pity. "Ah, sorry. I get a bit . . . carried away sometimes. I know it's not very interesting to other people."

"No, no, no," Helena assured him, reaching out to pat him on the arm with a smile so kind it almost hurt to look at. "It's wonderful to see someone so animated and passionate, it's . . . . It's just really nice to see."

"I see why she likes you," Fredrick added in and, oh no, his eyes were all soft around the corners too when he looked at Percy. "I'm glad she's found someone like you."

Percy gaped at them longer than what was socially acceptable. "Okay!" he said, voice still too loud as his heart pounded guilty in his ears.

He cleared his throat and force his heart to calm down, it wasn't that big of a deal, honestly. "Well, um, I don't. I don't know when you guys expect Annabeth but you can come over until she gets back."

Fredrick grinned and clapped Percy on the shoulder. "We'd like that son."

A weird noise escaped Percy's throat, half-hysterical, as he nodded that sure, yeah, it was totally fine and cool and all good to let these nice people into his apartment and continue to lie to them. Sure. It was fine. It was all good.

Percy led the way into the apartment and tried to pretend he couldn't physically feel the Chases' presence, impeding on his sacred, lonely, depressing, too-small apartment as he tried to discreetly hide the dirty dishes from view, oh were those dirty socks on the floor (kick those under the couch). With great care, he set his camera bag on the coffee table and turned to face the Chases.

"I just need to download these images to clean up space on the memory card is that okay?" Percy asked, forking his thumb over his shoulder at his beat-up old laptop.

"Oh yes, dear, not a problem at all," Helena told him warmly, moving throughout his apartment with a familiarity that made Percy's stomach grow tighter. "I know Annabeth has lots of tea I could pop over and grab—oh, are you a tea drinker as well?"

Helena had found the box of tea Rhodes bought him from her trip to Iceland (something about whaling and justice) a year ago. The tea was really for Grover but it somehow never made its way over to his apartment, collecting dust on Percy's shelf instead until its intended recipient came to call and brewed its weird leafy contents.

"It ah, actually belongs to a friend of mine," Percy said, booting up his laptop. "I can't remember what kind of tea it is, it's from Iceland, I think. He drinks it when he's here. You can totally have some though, I think there's one of those things you use to make it in the drawer next to you."

"The diffuser yes," Helena said, sounding oddly charmed by his ignorance. Which was weird.

"I'll take a cup too, dear, if that's alright," Fredrick told his wife as he settled down on Percy's couch.

"Yeah, of course, knock yourself out."

I should have said that the tea was for Annabeth, Percy belatedly realized as Helena hummed and bustled around the kitchen, finding mugs and Grover's kettle (he swore sometimes his friends basically lived in his apartment with all their stuff that cluttered his cupboards). He snuck at a peek at Fredrick, who had leaned back in the couch, arm stretched out over the back, studying the blue finned tuna hung to his left. Percy not-so-casually looked over at Helena, humming to herself as she peeked into his fridge (oops, no milk). Neither seemed to find the tea comment weird. Maybe Annabeth didn't like foreign tea? God, Percy really knew so little about her.

Focus, he scolded himself, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the computer. He carefully extracted his SD card from the camera and plugged it into the computer.

"Do you want any tea, Percy?" Helena asked.

"Um, yeah sure." Percy had choked tea down before for the sake of his tree-loving friend, he could do it for Annabeth's parents.

"So, is this your usual process?" Fredrick asked. "You meet the client, do a shot, then come home and upload the pictures?"

"Um, yeah, more or less." Percy shrugged. "Sometimes there is more set-up, finding good places to shoot, coordinating the background or the props or whatever they want. The hard part comes after though, when I have to sort through everything and start editing. People are way more complicated than fish. Lot pickier too."

Fredrick laughed, a sound not as deep as Poseidon or Triton but warm nonetheless. "Yeah, I bet. Do you mind if I take a look?"

"Sure, here, these are from today, I obviously haven't edited any of them yet." Percy swiveled his camera around so Fredrick could see Rhodes's pictures.

"Oh wow, these look great! Helena, come look at this," Fredrick called, leaning forward with interest.

"They're unedited and some angles are weird," Percy muttered, feeling his neck grow hot.

"I mean you would know, but to me, they look great, already like something I'd see in a magazine, you'll have to send us a copy when it gets published. Helena, look!"

Helena had migrated over, peeking over her husband's shoulder at Rhodes's predatory smile and sharp lipstick. "Oh, look at her," she laughed, her hands settling on Fredrick's shoulders. "What a fierce-looking woman. You can definitely tell she's a lawyer."

"Yeah," Percy agreed and his lips twitched up despite himself. "She's interesting for sure."

"Is this what you'll be editing then?"

"No, actually I have a shoot from last week that I'm wrapping up. Ah, graduation pictures."

"Oh yes, it is that season isn't it." A wistful look fell over Fredrick's face. "Annabeth didn't want senior pictures. We took a few snaps with our camera but not . . . not anything official."

Percy stared at the back of his computer, at the half-faded sticker he picked up during the semester and a half he semi-frequented the photography club at the local university. It used to be a camera flashing brightly in front of the Empire State Building, but now a scratch slashed through the center of the camera, the light dull and ominous. Percy felt like the sad, faded sticker perfectly summed how he felt in the current situation.

The sharp whistle of the kettle shattered the moment.

"Oh, that's the tea," Helena said, bustling away to finish her task.

"It's nice work, son," Fredrick said, pushing the laptop back towards its emotionally constipated owner, who took it without comment, his throat tight.

Helena brought them tea and the three settled into relative comfort. Helena and Fredrick chatted over their tea, peering at Percy's work every once in a while, to comment or involve him in the conversation. It made working through Drew's photographs bearable, almost enjoyable, and the tea didn't taste nearly as bitter as he remembered.

"Does she—?" Fredrick asked, his voice trailing off as he looked at the last edit in Drew's portfolio. "Why did she pose like that?"

"I have no idea," Percy groaned, sinking deep into his chair, legs stretched out before him. "I told her not to but mother knows best and I got shot down."

"It makes her—" Fredrick paused, chewing on his lips.

"She has a small chest and that just makes it worse," Helena voiced for her husband.

Percy couldn't help but snicker at that, burying his face in his hands.

"I was trying to be tactful," Fredrick said.

"It's nothing bad, just standing like that makes it more pronounced and I don't think that's what she was going for."

"Probably not," her husband agreed, his mouth twitching, which he tried to hide behind his teacup.

"I'm going to be in so much trouble when she sees these," Percy all but whined into his hands, bemoaning his bad luck in clients, in stupidity, in life at large.

"There, there," Helena said sympathetically, reaching out to gently pat Percy on the back. "I'm sure she knows her chest is slightly below average, it's nothing to worry about."

Percy wasn't so sure about that.

Next to them, Fredrick's phone pinged. Percy didn't lift his head but winced when the man gave such a heavy sigh that Percy could physically feel the man exhale, the tea-warmed air tingled with exotic spices. "Annabeth said she's going to be late."

"Oh." Helena's hand fell from Percy's shoulder.

Percy peeked up from behind his hands. Fredrick stared into his tea like it held all the answers of the world, the dying sunlight casting shadows across the professor's face that made him look older, more tired.

"You guys are welcomed to stay here," Percy put forth, aware that it didn't really make up for the disappointment.

"Thank you, Percy."

Fredrick didn't look up. He ran his thumb over the screen of his phone, his free hand buried in his hair. Percy watched, face still half-covered by his hands.

"You know what, let's order take-out," Fredrick said, sitting up straight and setting his tea down on the ancient coffee table. "What do you like Percy? What's good around here?"

Percy, who only ordered take-out when he got paid or the ramen noodles ran out and some poor soul took pity on him (usually his mom), stalled. "Um… Lots? What are you in the mood for?"

"Something we don't get back home."

"Thai?" There was a relatively cheap Thai place not that far from the apartment that would deliver.

"Yeah, that sounds amazing."

Fredrick pulled the menu up on his phone and Percy let the pair order too much food for three people as he packed his photography equipment away. It was strange, the apartment warm from the kettle and two extra bodies, foreign spices settling into the fabric of the couch as three steaming mugs scented the air, the low murmur of the Chases as Percy stood in his bedroom.

It was . . . nice. Weirdly, warmly, nice.

Don't get used to it, Percy told himself sternly as he gently put his camera back in its safe place. It's not real.

A young pimple-y college student dropped off enough food to feed a small army and Fredrick gave a tip large enough to make the delivery boy thank them no less than five times. They spread the buffet carefully across Percy's meager countertop, cartons half on top of each other and in absolutely no order whatsoever. Percy's plates were plastic and worn, but the Chases didn't seem to mind. They retreated to their seats around the coffee table and Fredrick regaled them with tales of freshmen mishaps as their dug into their feast.

Percy leaned back in his sunken, time-worn chair, pleasantly full and warm, as he watched the Chases laughed and share stories as they finished their dinner. Helena sat with one leg folded beneath her, leaning into her husband as she twirled noodles around her chopsticks. Fredrick's eyes wrinkled as he laughed, taking a sip from his third cup of tea.

"Want any more?" Percy asked as he stood up, plate in hand.

"We're fine, dear, we'll get up if we want more," Helena said with a wave of her chopstick and Percy nodded, moving into the kitchen.

He was half-way through refilling his plate when there was a pounding at the door.

"Comin', comin'," Percy said, shoving in a quick bite before stepping over to the door.

"'Lo?" Percy asked, wondering for a weird, wild moment if they'd short-changed the delivery boy or something and froze dead in his tracks when he saw the blonde at the other side of the door.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Annabeth hissed.

Percy blinked at her, his brain struggling to catch up. Annabeth looked beautiful as always, but it was apparent the long day had taken its toll on his neighbor. Her hair was frizzled, wild blonde strands in a series of disarray as they escaped their elastic confines. Her clothes were wrinkled and he could see papers hastily stowed in the bag at her side.

"Annabeth—?" Fredrick called from behind them.

Annabeth's eyes flickered over Percy's shoulder. Quick as lightning, her arm snapped out and she roughly grabbed Percy by the arm, bodily dragged him out of the apartment and slammed the door shut behind them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Annabeth repeated, poking him hard in the chest this time.

"Ow," Percy said reflexively, not sure if he was referring to the jab or the death grip she had on his arm. "Lighten up will ya, we saved some food for you."

"You saved some—? You're eating dinner?" Annabeth's face morphed through a series of emotions quickly than Percy could decipher before landing back on furious.

"We saved you some?" Percy repeated uncertainly, wracking his brain to discover the source of her ire and coming up blank. What did he do this time? Was it something he said? Was it his breath? (His breath was probably terrible.)

"You, you—" Annabeth released him with a frustrated cry. She turned away from him, running a hand through her already mused and disorderly hair. "I can't believe you."

"I'm sorry?" Percy tried because it felt safe. "I don't understand what's going on here."

Annabeth whirled back around, jabbing him in the chest again. "You invited my dad and Helena into your apartment."

"They were lost and I thought—"

"You can't do that," Annabeth hissed, getting up in his face, her eyes flashing.

"I can't do what?" Percy exclaimed, growing annoyed now.

"Invade my life like that!" Annabeth whisper-hissed. "I appreciate your help I do, but that's my dad, this is my life. You can't just barge in like you're my real boyfriend. What am I going to do if he starts asking more questions about you? Spending time with you? If he gets attached to you? This isn't real, Jackson. You're a convenient excuse to get him off my back, not some weird parent-entertaining sidekick to make me look like a bad daughter!"

"I—" Percy stammered. "I wasn't trying to make you look bad."

"Oh?" Annabeth demanded scathingly. "Taking off a workday in the middle of the week to entertain him, letting him buy you dinner, telling stories, playing the good boyfriend because oh Annabeth works too much? You didn't see how that makes me look bad? Like it's somehow my fault they show up without asking and expect me to drop everything, everything I've worked so hard for, because they're bored and think they deserve my every attention?"

"I—"

"Back. Off." Annabeth snarled and her eyes flickered across his face for a moment . . .

"What the hell is that?"

Annabeth reached up and Percy started to pull away as her fingers brushed against his forehead.

"Is that . . . lipstick?"

"Eh?" Percy asked, "Oh yeah, I—"

"Great, just . . . just great," Annabeth said, her hand falling to her side with a sound that was deafening in its silence. "You know what Percy, I don't want to hear it. Send my dad and Helena out. I don't care what you tell them, I don't care if you hurt their feelings. I want them in my apartment in five minutes or I swear . . ."

Annabeth trailed off.

"They just better be there," she whispered.

"Annabeth, I—"

But Annabeth wasn't listening. She had turned on her heels before he even muttered the first syllable of her name. Her head was hung low, her gait listless as she walked away, and seeing her go somehow felt even worse than all the shouting.

A/n Long time no see I know. Life has not been great. I know this chapter didn't have a lot of Annabeth or development of any kind, but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless. Annabeth has a lot of inferiority issues from her childhood that are rearing their ugly heads. I hope the next chapter will be out quicker but I can't promise anything. I hope life is treating you kinder than I. Please drop a note and let me know what you thought. As always, I hope you enjoyed ~ *

(If you like Ducks or Disney or take pity on me, please go read my new story about Disney ducks.)