Tiny Raven

I was drunk.

Not the most I had ever been.

I wasn’t wasted or blacked out, but I was definitely well into drunk territory.

Grillby had kept my glass filled. He kept increasing the ice as he lowered the amount of alcohol. He also made sure to intersperse the liquor with glasses of water.

He was nice.

Apollo reappeared partway through the night and talked to me about nothing for an hour. Then he went away, calling me “sweetheart” and asking me to call him sometime.

He was … tolerable. Barely.

It was quarter after ten when Grillby escorted the skeleton back to the booth I had commandeered. Closing time had come and gone, but I hadn’t felt like leaving. I wanted to give Bones and Grillby time to catch up since it seemed like they knew each other.

Every time I considered leaving I remembered that Boney was a slave. A slave I owned.

And I needed another drink to drown the guilt.

The bartender held out some small bills to me, the remains from my alcoholic binge. I waved it off as I attempted to pull myself together for the walk home.

“Keep it,” I slurred. “You need’t more’n I do.”

He flared at me, clearly disagreeing, but didn’t push. The fire elemental slid the extra cash into his vest pocket and offered a hand to help me up. I shook my head.

“ ’m fine. ’m drunk, not inv’lid.”

I could already tell I was going to have a hangover from hell in the morning, but I didn’t care. That was a problem for future me.

And future me could suck it.

Present me wasn’t feeling quite as guilty and scummy as I had before. I counted that as a win.

“ ‘lright Bone Boy. Ready t’go home?” I asked as I finally heaved myself to my feet, hoping I was at least somewhat intelligible.

The skeleton shrugged, which was as close to a “yes” as I was going to get from him.

Grillby gave the skeleton a meaningful look as I shouldered my messenger bag. I wondered what the pair had talked about while I was drowning myself in alcohol.

“G’night Grillbz,” I said, holding onto the “z” a little too long. I shot him finger guns and a wink. “See ya tom’rrow, hot stuff.”

The bartender sparked a little and his flames turned dark and red. I laughed as I turned from him and started making my way outside.

I shivered as I emerged into the deep autumn night. Stretching while I waited for Bones to say his goodbyes and join me. I took a deep breath, trying to let the crisp air sober me a little.

I had stopped drinking an hour ago and my happy buzz was fading fast. The guilt was settling back into my stomach.

I felt like trash.

“I am a trash can,” I proclaimed to the dark street and sky, raising my fists. “Not a trash can’t!”

I heard a snicker behind me and turned to see Bone Dude three feet away and staring at me like I had grown an extra head.

I blinked in surprise. Had I … Had I made him laugh?

“Fuck yeah,” I said as I dropped my arms and began the walk home.

I led the way to my apartment building, rambling incoherently as we walked. Bones walked a few paces behind me, silent and glaring at the back of my head.

My apartment building wasn’t the prettiest building on the block. The owners were an elderly couple who did their best to keep up with the demands of being landlords. But they clearly had trouble keeping everything managed.

Sometimes their daughter would stop by to help them out. She would make appointments for repairs and maintenance to the facade and outside of the building. Her visits were few and far between, so the building often looked like it was on the verge of condemnation.

She also spent most of her visits trying to get her parents to sell the place. Which would effectively evict nearly every resident.

It would certainly mean my eviction.

Despite appearances the couple kept the innards of the building working beautifully. Which was far more important than the curb appeal, in my mind.

Except, of course, tonight. The capstone to my shit day: the elevator was out of order. Again.

I kicked weakly at the door, as though all it needed was a little percussive maintenance from my boot. This failed to fix whatever the issue was, so I headed to the stairwell,.

“Hope you’re up for a climb, Bone Boy,” I said as I unlocked the door.

Somehow, despite being behind me when we started our ascent, the bag of bones managed to get in front of me.

Every time I got to a landing he was already there, leaning against the wall and waiting for me. I would pass him, start up the next flight, and then find him waiting on the next landing.

I didn’t think I was that drunk.

Finally at my floor I opened the landing door, allowing both Bone Guy and I into the hallway. I turned and headed down the hall to my apartment.

Last door on the left.

Bone Ninja was already there, waiting for me.

I paused when I noticed him. Had I told him which apartment I lived in? I must have during my drunken rambling.

I couldn’t even remember what I had talked about on the way home.

He was leaning on the wall next to the door, glaring at me in annoyance.

I meandered over, taking my time, and put my key in the lock.

I held the door open for my new roommate.

Yeah. Keep thinking of him like a roommate. That eases the guilt a little.

“Welcome home,” I said with a wave of my hand when the skeleton hesitated to enter. I followed him in, locked the door behind us, and slid off my shoes while I let him look around.

I tried not to take it too personally when he glanced back at me, like he couldn’t believe this place belonged to me.

All I could do in response was shrug.

The apartment had already been furnished when I had taken over the lease. Dining room table and chairs, a comfortable sectional sofa and coffee table, a decent TV.

All of it nice. None of it mine.

My youngest older brother had said it looked like a showroom apartment. Beautiful for photographs, but lacking signs of life. My sister said it lacked “personality.”

I disagreed with them. There was life in the garbage bag near the door, full and tied off but not yet taken out. The coffee table was home to a pile of books, dogeared and well loved. There were piles of paperwork on the dining room table, sorted into an organized chaos.

Nearly every windowsill held at least one plant.

It wasn’t my fault I had the personality of the color beige.

I shook my head to clear it, pulling my thoughts back on track and bringing on a wave of nausea.

“Kitchen and living room,” I said as I walked by the skeleton and waved at him to follow me. I led him down the hallway, opening doors as I went. “Spare, office, spare, my room, bathroom, other bathroom. Pick whichever of the spares you want.”

I unlocked my own bedroom door and threw my bag and jacket onto my bed.

The spare rooms were similar. One was a little bigger and had a balcony, but no closet. The other had a closet and a small window. Both were furnished with a mattress, sheets, and pillows, but nothing else.

No one had stayed in either since before I moved in, but I kept the linens clean just in case.

I walked back into the kitchen and opened the medicine cabinet to get some pain relief for the morning. I was already sobering up and I knew I would be cursing myself when my alarm went off at four.

I was already cursing myself for staying out this late and getting so drunk.

As I sorted through pill bottles I realized I had no idea if the skeleton had eaten at Solar’s or not. For all I knew he couldn’t actually eat the burger and fries I’d pushed onto him.

“Hey, Bone Dude?” I asked, voice raised to carry but not enough to annoy my neighbors.

I turned around and found myself eye to black eye sockets. I yelped and dropped the two bottles I was holding.

He was three steps behind me, staring at me.

That was going to get old real fast.

I picked up the pill bottles and took a step away, reasserting my personal space. “You said the old bastard lied about you needing to eat?”

The skeleton gave a quick nod. I frowned and wondered how long he had been starving.

“What a dick,” I said simply, then I held out my hand waving at the kitchen. “Kitchen and pantry are open to you. I don’t have much, but anything I have is yours.”

I chose my pills and then turned to put the bottles back.

“ … anything?” The skeleton asked as he stared at the fridge.

I glanced at him, uncertain how to answer the question, then nodded.

“Yeah, anything,” I said. I nudged him out of the way and opened the fridge, lighting up his face. “If you use up the last of something or want anything specific, write it down for me. I’ll try to get it next time I do a grocery run. Which’ll be next Sunday. The list’s on the door.”

I grabbed a water bottle and took another peak at his expression as I pulled away.

He looked like he was in awe and those pinprick pupils were back.

I wondered how often he had access to food in the last few years.

I doubted I would like the answer.

I looked back in the fridge, taking stock of what I had available. Most of my leftovers were gone, but I knew I had the ingredients for lasagna and I could make a batch tomorrow.

“You aren’t allergic or need a special diet or anything, right?”

Bone Dude shook his head, still enamored with my nearly-empty fridge.

If he was going to keep this up my electricity bill was going to skyrocket.

“Hey,” I said, waving a hand in front of his face to get his attention. “Don’t let all the penguins out.”

He grunted but obliged and closed the door to the fridge. Then he looked around the kitchen, apparently lost.

“Make yourself at home,” I said, trying to keep my voice gentle. “This is your home, now.”

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because his eyelights flickered out and he went back to glaring at me.

I sighed and pointed out cabinets and drawers. “Plates and stuff are up there, utensils are in this drawer, pots and pans are down here. This is the pantry. I only ask you clean up after yourself. I had to deal with a roach infestation a few months back and I’d really rather not have that happen again,”

I frowned at the memory. It wasn’t even my fault. A neighbor had allowed an infestation to grow so much that it migrated out of their apartment. My entire floor had to be fumigated to deal with it.

I’d slept in my car for three days. In the middle of summer.

It was miserable.

I motioned at the living room setup. “I don’t have much in the way of movies or anything, but I have access to some streaming accounts. Feel free to use them, but make sure you’re on my account. Name is Theresa or Terra – like the Roman goddess? – but a couple might be under ‘Angel’. If any of those don’t work, let me know and I’ll figure it out.”

Bone Dude continued to stare at me and I was completely done with interaction. I picked up my water and pills and left the room.

“Goodnight Bone Butt,” I said as I walked away. “Hope you sleep well. Let me know if you need anything.”

I stopped at the bathroom to brush my teeth, checking my reflection in the mirror once more. The bruise was clear now, an angry purple-red. It hurt more, too. A dull ache that I could almost ignore, but that was ever-present.

At least I was wrong about having a black eye.

I went to my room, locking the door behind me. I dropped the pills and water on my nightstand.

I changed into my pajamas while looking at my messenger bag. The paperwork for Bone Guy (my slave) was in there, and I couldn’t decide what to do with it.

As I pulled my nightshirt over my head I decided that, like the hangover I was going to wake up with, that was a problem for future me.

I hoped she would forgive me.

I plugged in my laptop, flicked off my lights, and hopped into bed. I sent a quick text message to my sister to warn her about our mother and her bullshit, then I plugged my phone in to charge.

I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

---

My drive back from the suburbs was far less careful and far more enraged than my drive out.

I spent most of it ranting about exactly how fucked up monster – no any – slavery was. How especially fucked up it was that my mother now owned a slave.

She knew about my complete and utter breakdown when the slavery laws passed. She knew I had cried so hard I had been throwing up. It had taken me weeks to be somewhat functional again.

Fuck, I was almost hospitalized it was so bad.

She knew how much of a failure I felt like because, despite my best efforts, monsters had lost their freedom. It had been the first time I had believed in a cause. The first time I had put all my energy into a battle worth fighting.

It was the first time I had felt passionate about anything.

And I had failed.

People like me, who had the same principles and beliefs, had failed.

She knew that.

She knew that and she still bought a slave.

When I came to a red light I put my head on my steering wheel and screamed.

It was one thing to listen to her talk shit about my brothers and sister.

It was one thing to listen to her describe how everyone in the world had wronged her in some way. How she was the perpetual victim and she didn’t understand why.

It was one thing to listen to her spew her oppressive, bigoted bullshit.

It was on thing to have her degrade me. To hear her talk about how worthless I was. For her to attack me because I spoke out of turn or did something she disapproved of.

I could take that. I knew my brothers. I knew my sister. I knew the truth. We weren’t close, but I cared for them. Part of why I interacted with the bitch at all was because I knew if I did, she wouldn’t seek them out to feed her narcissism.

I could tune out her lies and abuse. I could ignore the snide digs that mixed painful truth with her fucked up version of reality.

I could withstand the bruises.

Better me than them.

But … this had crossed a line I hadn’t even realized she was toeing.

She had bought a victim who couldn’t fight back. Someone with no choice, no agency, nothing to hold on to or do in hopes of improving her situation.

It was a step too far. A betrayal of everything I believed and cared about.

I turned into the parking structure across the street from my apartment. Hands aching and knuckles white from my death grip on the steering wheel.

Another bridge burned. Another relationship destroyed.

It hurt less than I expected.

I pulled into my usual parking spot – top floor, middle of the top row, nearest the road.

I could see my car from my apartment windows. It let me make sure nothing was wrong when I woke up in a panic at three in the morning to car alarms.

It was a small comfort.

I slammed my car door and jammed my keys into my jacket pocket before looking up at my apartment building.

I didn’t want to go home.

I was fuming. I didn’t want to risk putting a hole in my wall if I let myself wallow in rage, and I knew I wasn’t ready to let go of the anger yet.

So when I descended the stairs of the parking garage I turned away from my apartment and headed toward Solar’s

I deserved at least one drink to help me process the little piece of horrible that had fallen into my life.

My mother owned a slave.

As I walked the familiar route I noticed I was feeling light headed. Visual snow began to gather at the edges of my vision and my ears filled with the buzz of static.

As if this day wasn’t horrible enough, I had a migraine coming.

Trying to ignore the onset I kept stomping my way down the street muttering curses under my breath.

I shut out the world, my vision tunneling to focus only on the sidewalk in front of me.

I dodged other pedestrians, weaving around people as they went about their day.

I was almost in the middle of the crowd when I realized what I had stumbled into

There was an old man shouting profanity and wildly swinging a cane at a smaller hooded figure. The hoodie was doing their best to dodge but they were unsteady on their feet, taking longer and longer to regain their balance.

The old man swung his cane and the smaller target danced backwards out of the way but they overbalanced. I saw someone put a leg out, tripping them.

The figure fell.

I heard the pop of something over the crowd as they landed.

It was a sound I recognized.

Their wrist was either dislocated or broken. Likely the latter.

Then I noticed something else. The fall had knocked off their hood.

That wasn’t a human.

That … was a skeleton.

The old man shouted wordlessly as he swung the cane again.

The skeleton scrambled backwards, avoiding the blow but putting more weight on the injured wrist.

I winced in sympathy, beginning to step forward to try to intervene.

“Stay still and take it!” The old man screamed as he began to raise his cane again.

The skeleton’s collar blinked red.

Command accepted.

Their eye sockets somehow grew wider, and their expression went from defiance to fear.

All the anger and rage I felt boiled over in white hot fury.

Anger at my mother and how she bought someone to abuse.

Frustration at the city, at the humans who decided that monsters were “beneath” us.

Disgust at the other humans around me, laughing and joking about a monster getting its ass kicked.

Hatred at the whole damned system that led to the scene in front of me.

I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing. I stepped behind the old man and grabbed his cane as he raised it again, tugging it out of his grasp.

Off-balance and angry the old fuck spun around and sucker punched me.

Everything went silent as he and the crowd realized what had just happened.

I felt a wicked smile cross my face. “Well, that’s one way to greet a new friend,”

I prodded the teeth on the left side of my mouth with my tongue. It didn’t feel like that blow had loosened any.

Small mercies. I couldn’t afford a dentist.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I released his cane. He stumbled in an attempt to regain his balance.

“You calling the cops, or should I?” I asked as I flipped through my menus to find the dialer.

The old guy immediately began fumbling at his pockets.

“No! No need to call them! Here, take this!”

He pulled a couple of bills from his wallet and held them out to me.

“I don’t want your money,” I said as I made a show of dialing the first number.

“Here, fifty bucks! That’s more than fair, right?” The old man asked, holding out more money to me. I pressed another number on the keypad.

“Fine. Fine!” The old man shouted. “Take the money and take him!”

I blinked, my brain short circuiting at the offer.

“Take the money and the skeleton! He’s smart and house trained! Doesn’t even need to eat!”

The bastard was already holding a stack of paperwork out to me. I glanced down and realized it was nearly complete. Like the old man had it ready to go.

Like he had been about to …

I grabbed the folder out of his hands and read the sheet on top. I ignored the handwritten information in favor of the legalese.

It was paperwork for a transfer of ownership.

It was easier than selling a car.

There didn’t have to be a notary or witness. You could trade monster slaves around like they were fucking Pokemon. No big deal.

“Fine,” I growled, digging a pen from my bag. “Hundred dollars and the skeleton.”

“A hundred – ” the old man started to complain.

I cut him off with a stare and dramatically rubbed where he had struck me. “You know, it feels like I might have a loose tooth. Maybe I’ll have to go see a dentist. Might need that police report after all … Better make it two hundred. Just to be on the safe side.”

The old man looked like he was going to explode, but he spat out, “Fine!” as he grabbed the paperwork from me and signed it.

He held it out to me and growled, “As long as it gets him off my hands.”

I signed my name on the indicated line and the old guy handed me a bunch of files and a handful of money that I didn’t want,.

Who the hell carried that much cash around in this city? It was like he was asking to get mugged.

Granted, now I was the person carrying around that much cash.

Exchange completed, the old dude booked it down the road and the crowd began to disperse. Nothing interesting to see anymore. No slave beatings here.

The adrenaline and blinding rage began to fade as I looked at the paperwork in my hands.

The paperwork that made me the legal owner of another person.

The paperwork that symbolized everything I had fought against.

I shoved it into my messenger bag before my thoughts could spiral further and turned to my new …

Acquaintance? Surprise houseguest? Living Halloween decoration?

Definitely not that one. Ew.

Roommate?

I held a hand out to help him up and took a better look at him.

He wasn’t in great shape. He wore a tattered and stained hoodie that looked like it was falling apart around him. It was unzipped and he wore no shirt, so I could see his ribs and spine. He had on a pair of black athletic shorts that looked like they might have once been pants. Their hems were uneven and fraying.

No socks. No shoes.

He ignored my offered hand and pushed himself to his feet with his good arm. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and stared at me.

I stared back.

He was shorter than me by an inch or so. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his large eye sockets which were eerie, empty black voids.

I glanced at his wrist, the one he had favored while getting to his feet. It was hidden by his pocket and sleeve, so I couldn’t see how injured it really was. I fumbled through my bag and pulled out a monster candy, which I held out to him.

“These heal injuries, right?” I asked. He didn’t answer and I sighed. “It’s for your wrist.”

He looked at me suspiciously before holding out his hand for me to drop the candy into. That taken care of, I turned my attention to where we were.

I was not on my usual route to Solar’s, but I recognized the area. I must have walked by the bar without realizing it while I was ranting to myself.

I blinked in surprise as I noticed that the visual snow in my vision and the static in my ears had gone away. Huh.

Normally I would have suffered through those for hours before getting a migraine.

I shrugged and glanced at the skeleton. “I was going to get some food. You wanna come with?”

He looked at me like I was insane and I felt like he wasn’t far off.

He didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

I waved a hand at him to follow and I began to walk back the way I had come.

I tried very hard to think of it like taking a friend to my favorite place to eat.

I was failing.

I felt sick.

---

Grillby wasn’t behind the counter when Bone Guy and I entered Solar’s Bar and Grill. Instead I saw Apollo’s shock of red hair as he made the rounds, going table to table.

Apollo had wanted to run a restaurant for at least as long as I had known him. He said his great grandfather had made a fortune running his own cafe on the Grecian coast. Apollo claimed his destiny was to follow in his forbearer’s footsteps.

I had no idea if the story was true or not, but I did know that this wasn’t quite what my friend had dreamt about.

Solar’s was great. It had the right atmosphere, great food, and Grillby was a huge attraction and a skilled bartender. But it wasn’t a high-class place. It was a nice pub, but it was still a pub.

Apollo had hoped for something a little fancier.

“Hey, Ap,” I said as I passed behind him. I knew if I didn’t greet him it would be an invitation for him to hound me all night.

I really didn’t want to talk to Apollo.

The only person I wanted to talk to was Grillby.

“Ah! Terra! Agapité mou!” Apollo proclaimed, dashing my hopes of a quiet night to dust. “Give me a moment and I’ll come get your order, sweetheart!”

I did my best to stop myself from grimacing and nodded, “Yeah, Ap. Sounds good.”

I led Bone Dude to the bar and put my coat and bag on the back of my usual seat.

I rubbed my cheek where the old guy had punched me. It felt like a bruise was forming. I wondered how dark it would be.

I turned to the bag of bones, “I’m going to the bathroom. Make yourself comfortable. Or whatever.”

He grunted an acknowledgement and I walked to the restrooms. I shuddered under the glare of his empty sockets on my back.

I was about to open the door to the ladies room when Grillby left the mens, mop and bucket in hand.

I stared at his flickering hand on the mop and wondered why the wooden handle wasn’t burning. Then I glanced at the bucket of dirty, soapy water.

“You sure you should be touching that stuff, Grillbz?”

He looked at me in surprise, then mimed looking at his watch and then back at me.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “It’s been … a day. One hell of a fucking day. I’ll tell you after I wash up.”

The fiery bartender nodded and rolled mop and bucket into the kitchen. I glanced at the bar before going into the restroom.

The skeleton was gone.

Whatever. I’d deal with that later.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

The old man had hit my upper cheekbone. There was no bruise yet, but there was a deepening redness that showed where one was forming. I touched the edges tenderly, wincing at how prominent it was going to be. I would have a black eye, as well.

A quick double check of my teeth and inner cheek and I was satisfied that I wasn’t missing or about to lose any body parts.

The damage was minimal. People would notice, but nothing was broken and I didn’t need medical attention. It wouldn’t be the first time I went to work with visible injuries.

Satisfied that I would be okay I nodded to myself and washed my hands.

I tried very hard to not think about the fact that I owned someone.

I walked back to the dining area, finding no Bone Guy in sight. I sat down at my saved seat and pulled my jacket on.

I skimmed through social media on my phone while Grillby worked filling orders. Part of me hoped to find the video of the old menace attacking me, but it wasn’t posted anywhere that I could find. Too bad. I had sort of wanted to show Grillby my moment of bad-assery.

Bad-assery that ended with me owning another person.

I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat and tried to think about anything else.

Eventually there was enough of a lull that Grillby was able to take a quick break to talk. He slid a burger and fries to me while saying his designated greeting then leaned in, inviting me to vent.

“I saw my mom today,” I started.

I snorted at the way he flared at the words. He had heard enough about my mother that he understood how any story involving her was going to end badly.

“I know, I know. But it’s my ‘duty,’ right? As the ‘good daughter’?”

He made a huffing noise that I had learned meant he disagreed but he didn’t want to get into it right then. He motioned to my cheek.

“Oh! No, she’s innocent of that. That comes later in the story. Like I said – it has been a day. No … I went out and visited my mom and found out she bought a slave.” I shuddered and looked at my food. “I get that it’s the … ‘in’ thing to do? But she knows how I fucking feel about monster slavery. She knows how badly – ”

I cut myself off abruptly, stopping before I could finish the thought.

She knows how badly I took the legalization of monster slavery.

It didn’t feel appropriate to complain about that to Grillby. A literal slave who was really only interacting with me through force.

I swallowed hard as my stomach made an uncomfortable twisting motion and I dropped my head to my hands.

“Could I get a drink? My usual?”

Grillby nodded and stepped away, leaving me to regain my composure a little.

When he came back, the bartender had both my drink and a bag of ice wrapped in a clean kitchen towel. I put the ice pack to my face and took a long pull of the alcohol, relishing the burn on my tongue and throat.

It tasted like gasoline and bad decisions, but I wasn’t drinking it for the flavor.

“Anyway,” I continued as I put the half-empty glass down. “I had that wonderful surprise waiting for me when I went to visit her. Went out of my way on my day off to see her and she pulls that bullshit.”

I took a deep breath in an attempt to delay the inevitable.

Grillby ran a clean towel over an already clean glass as he waited. It was a habit he had when he wasn’t doing anything else. He liked to keep his hands busy, even when he wasn’t actually doing anything.

My stomach churned and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“So, yeah. Mom has a slave. Told her to go to hell. But … I can’t really say shit because guess what?!” I laughed, hysterical and desperate. Grillby looked at me with a concern I ignored.

He’d find out how much trash I was soon.

I downed the rest of my drink, raising the empty glass in a sardonic toast with a wild smile on my face.

“I have a slave now, too!” I proclaimed, uncertain if I was about to laugh or cry.

I wanted to do both.

Both seemed good.

Grillby dropped the glass he had been cleaning. Fortunately it landed on the rubber drying surface of his sink area, so it didn’t shatter. The dull thud made me wince.

“Yeah,” I said softly, putting my empty glass down and staring at it as I curled in on myself again. “It’s just … ”

I took a deep breath and let the words out of me as I fought back hysterics. My chest felt tight, like if I didn’t talk to someone about what happened I would crack and shatter all over the bar.

“There was this fight on the street and this guy was getting his ass kicked and nobody was doing anything! They were just watching and filming and laughing! Then I saw that it was a monster getting his ass kicked by a human and … and then the human used a command and I … just … I stepped in without thinking about it? And the old guy decked me, that’s where I got this, and then he gave me the monster so I wouldn’t press charges for assault and Grillby I don’t know what happened but now I own someone.”

I dropped my head to the table, feeling like I was going to start sobbing. Grillby stepped away and I shuddered as I felt my eyes water.

He must hate me now.

He returned and placed a glass by my head before returning to cleaning his glassware. I watched as he turned the tumbler in his hands like he was thinking.

“It’s … ” I pulled myself back to sitting and looked at the refilled glass, wondering if I could drown myself in it. “I … I just wanted to … to help. I was angry and I wanted to get the monster away from the abusive asshole. But … now I’m the abusive asshole? But … what else can I do? I can’t return the guy. I can’t … I can’t sell him like an old couch.”

Grillby made a thoughtful crackle and put the glass down. Then he picked up another and began the process again as he listened.

“I don’t want to own anyone! It’s horrible. I fought against this. But … there’s … there’s no good option, is there?”

Grillby was silent but contemplative. I wondered if he would give me some sage bartender advice. Magic words that would make everything make sense and would make the guilt eating me up vanish.

Before he could say anything he was pulled away to help another customer, leaving me to my own thoughts.

I downed the second drink without thinking too much, enjoying the fuzz that was building in my head. I traced my finger on the counter, making shapes with the condensation from my glass.

I needed to pay before I got too drunk or I would forget to make sure the fire elemental got an appropriate tip.

I noticed a refilled glass was in front of me, but Grillby was still absent. I shrugged and took a sip.

I wondered where the skeleton was. Had he taken off? Beyond the paperwork in my bag, there was nothing tying him to me. And until I submitted the paperwork, there wouldn’t be.

Which gave me an idea.

I smiled as Grillby came back over, my brain in a haze of alcohol, and I stage-whispered my conspiracy to him.

“Grillbz, Grillby, Grillbyyyyy … I figured it out! How to make this all okay again. I have the paperwork for that monster, right? I could just … not submit it! I won’t claim him as mine and he call fall through all the bureaucratic cracks! It would almost be like being free, right?”

The bartender went quiet, his flame dimming as he glanced at the empty glasses in front of me and shook his head.

“Whaaaaat?” I asked as I smiled at him. “It’s foolproof. I should know, I’m a huge idiot.”

Before the bartender could respond a voice spoke from close behind me, so soft it was nearly a whisper.

“Grillby?”

I jumped, almost falling off of my barstool, not expecting someone to be so close to me, so within my personal space. I turned to see the not-as-creepy-as-I-initially-thought face of the skeleton I had brought here.

The skeleton I owned.

I pushed the thought aside and blinked at him. He looked … different.

The bones of his face were softer somehow, more open and less guarded and angry.

His empty eye sockets now had pinpricks of light in them. They darted around his huge sockets like he couldn’t believe what was in front of him. They were fascinating to watch and I wondered how they worked.

I realized he had spoken for the first time since I met him.

The skeleton climbed onto the bar stool next to mine, eyes never leaving the bartender. He settled into the seat like he belonged there.

He didn’t spare a glance at me.

Grillby returned the stare in open shock, the glass in his hands forgotten.

“How’d you get behind a bar again?” The skeleton asked, his voice still hushed.

“Apollo purchased me to be a bartender here,” Grillby said, his voice too loud. I could see the light of his collar blink.

Boney looked taken aback by the volume and clarity that the fire elemental spoke with. I drummed my fingertips against the countertop to get his attention.

“He has to answer direct questions vocally,” I explained. “I try to keep my questions rhetorical … or specify that he doesn’t need to be vocal some other way.”

I ignored the skeleton’s empty-eyed glare and my queasy stomach and sipped on another drink.

What number was I even on? Three? Four? I needed to pay.

I stood and stretched and pushed the plate of food at the skeleton. He looked at me, confusion obvious despite the rictus grin and dark eye sockets.

“Was old dude telling the truth when he said you didn’t need to eat?” I asked.

“He lied,” Bones said.

“Then you can have this. I’m not hungry anyway,” I said. I glanced around, making sure Apollo was nowhere to be seen. I pulled out all the cash in my wallet and held it out to Grillby.

“Hey … I trust you. Make sure you tip yourself. Keep the drinks coming, I’m gonna need them.”

Grillby pointed at the skeleton and I nodded. “He’s the one. If he wants anything, I’ll pay for that too. Just give me whatever’s left over at closing.”

The fire elemental flared a little in acknowledgement. I took my things and went to a booth to give the monsters some semblance of privacy.

I proceeded to drown myself in cheap liquor and cat memes.

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