Tiny Raven

Sans and I fell into routine.

Or, rather, I returned to my routine and Sans followed along as my skeletal shadow.

Every day was more or less the same. Wake up way too early, rush to get ready. Run around the city doing low skill, low pay jobs. Sans napped during my breaks. Grab lunch at Solar’s and chat with Grillby. Work some more. Go home, eat a late dinner, crash around midnight.

Wake up and do it all again the next day.

The closest any of my managers came to caring about Sans was to warn that I was responsible for “any trouble he caused.”

One manager reminded me more than once. Like I had forgotten in the last half hour.

I had a shit memory, but I had thought I was more put together than a neurotic goldfish.

Some of my coworkers, however, were more vocal about the skeleton.

“Since when do you have a slave?”

It was a valid question. I understood the curiosity, and the accusation in their tone.

I had been a vocal supporter of monster rights for years.

And here I was, a human with a monster slave all my own.

The question was almost physically painful. A reminder of my hypocrisy.

I retreated to the lie I had given on Monday.

“I live in a rough area. I needed a body guard.”

It was easy enough to believe. Those who knew me well enough to feel comfortable asking about Sans had seen me come to work with bruises or worse. Simple enough to believe that I was a magnet for bad luck.

None of them knew that the dangers I faced were more domestic than being mugged by violent street thugs.

Which was fortunate for me because I kept carrying around the extra cash to get Sans some new clothes.

Time kept conspiring to keep me from taking him to a thrift shop.

Where I had been a regular at Solar’s before, I only ate there two or three items a week. Now I was stopping by every day for lunch.

I wanted Sans to have a chance to talk to someone he knew, someone he could trust.

He always seemed more at ease when talking to Grillby.

When the two monsters talked Sans had those lights in his eyes. It was the only time I saw them, outside of the very rare occasions that I managed to surprise the skeleton. I hoped that, maybe, for at least a couple of hours, he could forget that he was a slave.

That I owned him.

It didn’t lessen the pit of guilt growing in my stomach, but I hoped it made things better for him.

---

It was Saturday morning. I was nursing a cup of coffee and waiting for the first two pieces of toast to pop.

“How many jobs do you have?”

I had mostly adjusted to Sans appearing behind me out of nowhere, but it startled me when I was half asleep.

I groaned as I realized I had jumped and spilled some of my coffee. On my work shirt. I would have to change clothes before we left.

I glared at Sans as I put down my coffee mug, annoyed.

“Freaking ninja,” I muttered as the toaster popped. I divvied up the slices before putting two more in.

I leaned against the counter and nibbled on my breakfast.

“I think I have five or six jobs consistently right now.” I counted them on my fingers as I went. “The factory and housekeeping jobs are my most stable. I also have a pretty stable gig at the warehouse packing shipments. I’m on call for event staff at a nearby bar, but I don’t get called often for that. Loading trucks for shipments, that one is pretty stable.”

I picked up my coffee mug with a frown. I desperately needed the caffeine but it was a double-edged sword. Maybe I would escape the migraine this time.

Unlikely, but a girl could dream.

“I have some side-gigs. General labor, contract cleaning, that sort of thing. None of those last long. I’m only brought in as-needed.”

I thought about it a little more as I sipped my cooling coffee.

“I do some freelance stuff, too. Mostly web design. I’ve written for some magazines and blogs, though. And I work for a temp agency that has me do stuff like stuffing envelopes or sorting mail. If I’m desperate I’ll donate plasma or sign up for a medical trial.”

Another double-edged sword. Plasma was one thing, but the medical trials could be extremely draining.

The toaster popped and I took my piece to eat while I worked on lunch, leaving the other for Sans.

“I guess it really depends on what you mean by ‘job.’ ” I said with a shrug. I paused and tilted my head at him. “Why do you ask?”

Sans seemed thoughtful as he ate his own jam-covered toast, and I wondered if he knew why he asked.

I pulled stuff for a sandwich out of the fridge while I waited for him to answer. Or not.

Outside of Solar’s our conversations tended to be one-sided, so I didn’t expect the skeleton to answer my questions.

He shrugged. “I thought I knew about working multiple jobs, but you’ve shown me a ton.” He winked at me, “A skeleton.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes as I layered meat and cheese on the bread, silently praising my rationing. I had just enough for today, and tomorrow I was going grocery shopping. Perfect.

“That was a terrible skele-pun,” I retorted. Then I looked up at him, grinning mischievously. “I thought I said if you made bad jokes this early you’d be toast, but I guess I was getting a-bread of myself.”

He gave me a surprised chuckle, a real laugh, and I pumped a fist in victory.

“Fuck yeah!”

It felt nice to talk to him like this. Like we were friends. Hanging out, enjoying each other’s company.

Bad jokes, mediocre food, good company.

It reminded me of being a kid, getting ready for school with Abby and Sam while mom slept and …

I pulled myself from my memories with a shudder, frowning at the sandwich I was putting together.

I had wanted to ask Sans about the collars, how magic and intent worked. Right now felt like a good time to have that conversation. These moments were always the ones that Abby and I would talk about important things. Moments where we were both calm, relaxed, neither of us in a rush.

But the skeleton’s eyelights were bright, and he was actually talking to me. He laughed at my stupid joke.

I didn’t want to ruin this moment.

I put the sandwich in a bag with a sigh, then started cleaning up.

Moments passed and my questions were important.

I tried to ignore the nausea gnawing at my stomach.

“Hey, Sans?” I hedged, voice soft, not looking at him. “Can I ask you something about the collars?”

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. I shivered as I turned to look at the skeleton.

He was staring at me, eyes black voids and all humor gone from him. I’d snuffed out the easy atmosphere like a candle, and it wasn’t coming back.

“I mean … I guess it’s more about magic?” I said, my voice tight with anxiety. “Monsters are made of magic, right?”

He grunted at me, which I took as an affirmative.

“What does that mean exactly?” I asked. “I mean … I thought magic was a type of energy? But you’re physical. You can touch and … interact with the world. And … I know we can measure energy? Like … watts and joules and amps and all that? But you have mass and weight and physical properties. So … what is magic?”

Sans stared at me and I realized I was way off track. I waved my hand as though I could sweep aside my tangent. “Hold on, let me start over. That part isn’t important.”

I grabbed an apple out of the fridge and chips out of the cupboard while I thought out my questions better.

“Okay. The collars. They do something with your magic, right? I mean … assuming you even know how they work.”

He nodded and finally looked away from me. I barely heard him mumble, “Somethin’ like that.”

“Alright. I know they’re technological, too. I guess they’re technomagical?” I shook my head, annoyed that I couldn’t stay on topic. I needed more sleep. “They were supposed to be mini polygraphs or something, right? Polygraphs work by measuring heart rate, blood pressure, breathing, and skin conductivity. Or … something like that.”

I stopped and looked at the skeleton in my kitchen.

The skeleton without a heart or blood. Who lacked lungs to breathe. Had no skin or sweat glands.

I downed the rest of my coffee.

“Uh, except the collars must track something different for monsters. Which I guess is … intent?”

I looked at the empty mug in my hands and debated pouring another cup. I glanced at the oven clock and cursed under my breath. I was running late.

I put the empty mug in the sink and rinsed it with water. Then I ran into my room to pack my bag for the day.

All the while I kept attempting to explain my question.

“I’m off track, again. What I actually want to know is: What is intent? What does that mean when it comes to magic, specifically the collars?”

I glanced behind me, not surprised to find Sans in my doorway.

He wasn’t glaring at me like I had become accustomed to, although his eyes were still black voids.

If anything, he looked … tired.

“Uh, maybe I’m not – ”

“Why?” Sans asked, cutting me off before I could try explaining myself more.

Probably a smart idea, with how this morning had gone so far. I was likely to get even further into the weeds if I started rambling again.

“I’m trying to understand how it all works,” I said, I waved my laptop at him before sliding it into my bag. “I’ve been researching the collars for the last few days.”

I reached for my phone with a frown as I continued. “I can’t do anything about Grillby’s collar or the commands on him. I’ve figured out what a lot of his commands are … or I’ve figured out how to talk around the commands. Mostly through trial and error. Apollo told me a couple of the commands, but he left a lot out.”

Most of it, really.

Apollo wasn’t really a ‘friend.’ We weren’t close. He was some guy I knew from high school who happened to run a pretty great bar.

Still, it was distressing seeing how comfortable he had become with being a slave owner.

Sometimes it seemed like he enjoyed ordering the fire elemental around.

Like he got off on the power it gave him. The authority.

It made me feel sick.

I worried that would happen to me.

My stomach twisted unhappily, threatening to evict my breakfast of coffee and dry toast.

I rubbed my eyes as I left my room, closing and locking the door behind me.

“It’s different with you,” I continued as I walked down the hall. “Aside from the … pre-programmed commands? … mine are the next highest priority, right?”

I glanced back to see Sans nodding, his eyes dark and his expression becoming angry again.

“I don’t want to give you a command by accident,” I explained as I turned away from him. “I don’t want to give you a command at all.”

I stopped by the door to put on my shoes and looked back at the skeleton.

The anger was gone, replaced with a wary, confused expression that I couldn’t name.

His eyelights were back, small but bright.

Disbelief. That was the expression.

I looked down to tie my shoes. “From what I’ve read, the important part behind a command is intent. But I don’t … understand what that means. In a metaphysical sense, I guess.”

He didn’t say anything.

I felt like I had crossed too many boundaries.

I stood up and adjusted my jacket and messenger bag awkwardly.

“This was too heavy for this early in the morning. Never mind. Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted. Trying to ignore the tight anxiety in my chest. “We have a whole day of work ahead of us. New liver, same eagles.”

The comment seemed to snap Sans out of whatever he was thinking and he stared at me in complete confusion.

“W-What?”

I smiled as I held the door open for him. “What? Never heard of Prometheus?

---

I left the bar bathroom after washing my hands to find Sans in his regular seat. He was sitting across from Grillby, gesturing with his hands.

I watched him as I walked over, feeling like I recognized some of the motions.

Some of them looked like hand signs, a few enough to be recognizable words.

Chemistry … Alcohol … Solution …

It made me think of a joke I’d heard before. A poster on a chemistry teacher’s wall.

Technically, alcohol is a Solution.

Grillby flared in faux anger and as I got closer I could see Sans was laughing.

It clicked.

“You know ASL?!” I shouted at the pair as I ran the last few steps to them. I turned to Sans, “You’re telling jokes in ASL?”

Both monsters stopped what they were doing and stared at me.

Realization that I had just randomly screamed in the middle of a busy restaurant for no apparent reason hit me. I glanced around at the other patrons of Solar’s. I had quite a few people staring at me. Some amused, others annoyed. I felt myself turning red under the scrutiny and I clambered up onto my usual seat.

I threw back my drink, letting the burn of the alcohol mix with the heat of embarrassment.

I started to explain my outburst, signing as I spoke. The motions were slow with disuse, but I found I remembered a fair amount.

“I didn’t know you knew sign language, Grillby. I would have asked you to sign instead of being verbal if I had known!”

Sans was watching my hands, eyelights visible and expression curious.

“Not all monsters can speak,” the skeleton explained. He began to mimic me, speaking and signing at the same time. “We call it Hands. Most monsters know it.”

Grillby nodded and helpfully signed, “I didn’t know you knew Hands.”

“Not Hands,” I mimicked the unfamiliar sign as I shook my head. “I took some American Sign Language – ASL – courses a few years back. I’m not fluent. But I can follow what you two are saying!” I turned to Sans. “You said nearly all monsters know sign? That’s amazing!”

Humans, at least the ones in Ebott, generally only learned ASL if they absolutely had to. It wasn’t particularly well known outside the Deaf community.

Sans shrugged, “Some monsters can’t speak a language others understand. Some can’t speak at all. Most have hands or something similar, though. It’s pretty rare to meet someone who doesn’t know at least a little Hands.”

“That’s so cool,” I said. “Usually the only people who know sign are either deaf or hard-of-hearing. Or they know someone who is. I wish more humans knew it.”

“Why did you learn?” Grillby asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t really know. I was just interested to learn it, I guess. I like languages, linguistics, that sort of thing.”

In truth there had been a lot of reasons. I was interested to learn it, of course, but at the time I had hoped that maybe I could get a job as a translator.

I had wanted to be useful, to help people enjoy their lives more.

But I’d failed.

Story of my life.

Now that I knew monsters had a version of sign language, I wanted to learn everything about it. I pulled out my phone to start searching some of my questions.

Grillby tapped the plate of food I had been ignoring, gently pushing it toward me.

A reminder that I should eat before my lunch break was over.

He could tell that I had found something interesting to focus on. He knew how single minded I could get when I found an interest.

He probably had also noticed that I hadn’t been eating as much this last week.

My stomach hadn’t fully settled since bringing Sans home. Even thinking about eating made me feel nauseated and ill.

But I couldn’t afford to waste food. My budget was already tight.

I sighed and took a bite of my burger to appease the fire elemental, who gave a flare of acceptance. He turned back to Sans and the two picked up the conversation they had dropped when I had interrupted.

I watched for a moment without really processing the signs.

ASL was related to French Sign Language, but both were “new” languages. ASL specifically had only existed since the 1800s. But the Barrier went up, trapping monsters in the Underground, long before that.

Of course, monsters also spoke English, which hadn’t been in the area much longer than ASL. At least, not on the sort of time scale I was working with.

I wondered how that all worked.

I pulled out my notebook to write myself a note.

Look into Monster History courses/books.

Linguistic history?

Hands

I thought for a minute if I should add anything else, then put the notebook to the side and picked up my phone. I pulled up my social media to distract me while I ate.

When it came to humans, Sans hadn’t expected much.

After living life on repeat at the hands of a human child he didn’t have the greatest opinion of the species. Four years of living on the Surface hadn’t improved his opinion.

Monsters were made of love, hope, and compassion.

Sans had a theory that humans were made of greed, suspicion, and fear.

Or maybe he was just lucky and got all the shit ones.

His current owner, an angry old man who had wanted a babysitter in for his retirement, was dragging him to an auction house. He kept ranting about what a useless waste of space the skeleton was.

Sans followed with his hoodie up and bare skeletal feet scuffing along the hard pavement.

“Why I ever wasted money on you in the first place … ” the old man growled.

He had been ranting for the last fifteen minutes, winding himself into an angry frenzy.

“S’not my fault you spent your money on trash,” Sans snarked.

The old man snapped.

It was a good thing Sans paid more attention to his surroundings than people thought.

It was an especially good thing he was excellent at dodging.

The old man whipped his cane at where Sans had been, missing the skeleton as he jumped out of the way. The monster thought that would be it, but the old man’s anger wasn’t going to let them disengage.

The old man began to swing his cane around like a club, trying to catch Sans with it.

A crowd began to gather.

Sans wasn’t surprised.

Humans surrounded the dueling pair, pulling out cellphones, laughing and joking. Sans thought he could hear someone taking bets.

Most of them were against him.

One thing Sans had learned quickly on the Surface was that humans did not fight fair. They didn’t take turns, they didn’t wait for their opponent to summon an attack or block.

Not that the skeleton could summon an attack against a human anyway. The collars prevented it.

All he could do was dodge, and he couldn’t dodge forever. He was already reaching his limit, his energy and magic low.

He ducked a swing and danced back a few steps.

He ran into a leg that wasn’t there when he started his retreat.

Another way humans didn’t fight fair: It was rarely a one-on-one fight when a human was attacking a monster.

The skeleton fell.

He put his hands out to catch himself, but the ground wasn’t there. He landed on the edge of the sidewalk and couldn’t compensate for the extra foot of air.

His weight landed heavily on his wrist, which twisted and buckled under him.

He felt it snap under the stress.

He hissed through his teeth, trying to keep his face neutral through the pain.

He couldn’t deal with an injury right now. He had to get back up, keep dodging.

The emotion in the crowd shifted from entertained to vengeful. Cheers and good natured heckling turned to jeers and calls for violence against him.

His hood had fallen back. Many in the crowd were just realizing he wasn’t some punk kid.

He was a monster.

He tried to ignore them.

He had to dodge until the old guy ran out of steam. Then they could keep going to the auction house and Sans could be traded away.

Maybe he’d actually end up with someone tolerable.

“Stay still and take it !” The old man screamed.

Sans hadn’t expected that .

He felt the collar accept the command. His control over his own body was overridden. Every joint went stiff, locking him in place.

His magic, his very essence was torn from his control and he became a passenger in his own body, unable to move.

The old man raised his cane.

It was a waking nightmare. Sleep paralysis turned to eleven, made worse by the fact that it was real.

Sans’ mind screamed at him to do something, anything.

Attack.

Dodge.

Block.

Move.

His mind fought against his locked body.

All he could do was watch as the cane reached its zenith.

He let his vision go dark, not wanting to see his death coming.

True death, this time. No saves, no resets. No waking up in his room in Snowdin, safe and whole.

Such a stupid way to die.

Sans hadn’t expected help.

The sound of flesh against flesh.

Another shift in the emotion of the crowd.

No pain.

Sans looked and found the old man had turned his back to the monster.

He didn’t understand.

How was he still alive?

A voice, rough and feminine and filled with mirthless laughter.

“Well, that’s one way to greet a new friend.”

Sans listened to the exchange in confusion. Slowly, painfully slowly, he began to realize what had happened.

The feminine voice had intervened. She had been attacked in his stead. Now they were arguing about police and assault.

As the old man’s intent shifted from controlling the skeleton the command eased. Sans was able to move again.

He didn’t pull himself to his feet, instead shifting to get more comfortable as the exchange took place.

Why stand when he didn’t need to?

He wasn’t sure his legs could hold him at the moment anyway.

He was shaking hard enough that his bones were rattling. He had come close to death before, he had died before (in another time, in a world that no longer existed).

The adrenaline of near death was always overwhelming.

He reached for his magic, reassuring himself that it was still there. That it would still respond to him.

That even if the collar could tear it from him it would come back.

He tried to tell himself he wouldn’t always be helpless.

He focused on breathing.

His rattling eased until he was only shivering slightly. His bones no longer imitated maracas.

“Take the money and the skeleton!” The angry man shouted. Sans looked up, surprised by his sudden inclusion in the conversation. 

The old man had turned to point at him, and he could see the girl who had saved his boney ass.

She was a young adult, maybe in college, with short dark hair and large dark eyes. She was dressed plainly, wearing a hoodie similar to his own. Old, rough around the edges, well worn and well loved.

And if looks could kill, the old man would have long since passed on. The girl practically radiated hatred and anger like heat as she glared at him.

He seemed oblivious to her mood. He had pulled a folder of paperwork from his briefcase and was holding it out to her.

Sans snorted as he recognized the papers. Another street transfer.

It wasn’t the first time he had been traded like a baseball card. It wouldn’t be the last.

Honestly, this was preferable to being stuck in an auction house. Those places were depressing.

Sans looked at the girl, sizing her up. He wondered how long she would last with him.

Older folk tended to keep him around longer. Their age granted them the patience and mulish determination to put up with the worst of his bullshit. They wanted to prove something. Force him to submit.

Giving him up would mean defeat.

Younger people didn’t last as long.

Sans gave the girl a week, tops, before she did the exact same thing the old guy had been on his way to do. Selling the skeleton off to an auction house or a dealer, getting him out of her hair forever.

College Chick was his sixth owner in a month.

A new personal record.

---

Sans sat at the bar, eating fries and a burger that weren’t quite as great as what he ate at Grillby’s. They were still the best thing he had eaten in months.

It didn’t hurt that it was the first food he had eaten in well over a week.

The skeleton and the elemental talked about better days. They reminisced about Snowdin. Recounted the story of how the kid saved everyone.

Remembered the hope everyone had when monsters had finally, finally reached the Surface.

Remembered his own hope when he realized that this time it was going to last.

They caught each other up on friends from the Underground, although there wasn’t much to share.

Muffet was nearby, working in a bakery.

Alphys had been missing for years. There was still no information about where she had gone.

Undyne was missing and a fugitive. Wanted, dead or alive.

Asgore and Toriel had both disappeared. Both presumed dead.

Frisk had vanished.

They spoke around the truth. Neither wanted to ask about the most important people in their lives.

It was Sans who finally broke the trance.

“That circus … ” he started, voice soft. Grillby’s flamed dimmed, knowing the question on his friend’s mind. “Paps was there too, right?”

The fire elemental nodded, but looked away. “ … I don’t know where he is now.”

Sans gave a half hearted chuckle and a resigned shrug, laying his head on his arms. “Didn’t think you would. … Figured it might be worth it to ask.”

The pair were silent for a moment, then Sans asked, “What about Pyre?”

“I don’t know,” Grillby said with a sigh. “I can only hope she’s safe.”

The skeleton nodded in grim understanding. That was all he could do with Papyrus.

That was all anyone who had lost their family to the Slavery Act could do. Hope their missing loved ones were safe. Hope they would meet again.

Hope they would live long enough to see one another.

The bartender was pulled away by other customers, leaving Sans to sit and think.

He was still in shock.

He had come way too close to dying. He was rescued like a damsel by some college kid who now owned him.

That same kid had dragged him to a dive bar where he found one of his oldest friends. A friend he hadn’t seen in years.

He looked at his wrist, fully healed from the monster candy.

Why did she have monster candy? Did she already have a monster at home?

College Chick wandered back up to the counter, causing Grillby to return to refill her drink. Sans tried to figure out how much she had already had, but with Grillby watering it down he wasn’t certain.

All he knew was she was wasted.

He hoped she didn’t get like this every night.

Drunk humans were incredibly stupid. He had more than his fair share of being dragged into their nonsense.

As she wandered away, sipping her drink and giggling at her phone, Sans pointed a thumb at her.

“What’s up with her?”

Grillby sparked a little in surprise, then thought about his response.

“She is a good person,” he eventually signed.

“A good person who accepted a slave off the street,” Sans said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“A good person who wanted to help you,” Grillby responded.

“Didn’t need help,” the skeleton grumbled. The bartender flared a little, not believing him for a moment.

“Give her a chance,” Grillby said. “She’s not a bad person. She’s helped me.”

Sans raised an eye at that, wondering how the girl could have possibly helped the elemental.

The cynical part of him helpfully added that she obviously hadn’t helped enough. Grillby still had that stupid fucking collar around his neck.

The more reasonable part, almost too soft for him to notice, gently reminded him that there was only so much one person could do.

The skeleton sighed. “Fine. I’ll give her a chance. Just don’t be surprised when she sells me off in a week.”

---

Sans looked at the apartment and then back at the drunk girl who was barely keeping her balance as she took off her shoes.

It was quite the juxtaposition.

She shrugged and waved at him to follow her on a tour.

“Kitchen and living room,” she slurred with a vague wave at the open front area of the apartment. The living room had a big window on one side, which looked to lead out to an unused balcony.

College Chick opened doors as she walked down the hallway.

“Spare, office, spare, my room, bathroom, other bathroom. Pick whichever room you want.”

She unlocked her own room and disappeared inside for a moment, and Sans looked at the two spares.

Both were pretty bare bones, only furnished with a mattress on the floor.

The light pollution was horrible in Ebott City, but he could still see the brighter stars. If she wasn’t going to tell him which room he had to take, he would take the one with the balcony.

It would be nice to watch the stars when he couldn’t sleep.

“Hey, Bone Dude? The girl called out. Sans teleported to the kitchen, appearing right behind her.

She turned, screamed, and dropped what she was holding. Bottles of pills.

He had to admit he was impressed by how quickly she regained her composure. She picked up the bottles and went right back to what she had been doing.

“You said the old bastard lied about you needing to eat?”

Sans nodded.

She muttered something and waved at the kitchen. “Kitchen and pantry are open to you. I don’t have much, but anything I have is yours.”

Sans stared at her as she turned away to fumble the bottles open. He looked at the refrigerator.

The skeleton had more than his fair share of human owners. Some had been better than others.

None had ever given him full access to their kitchen.

“ … anything?” Sans asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, anything,” she said. She pushed him gently out of the way, opening the fridge and pulling out a plastic water bottle. She was still slurring, but either he was starting to understand her or she was sobering up. Her speech was becoming clearer. “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.”

Sans had stopped listening and was just … staring. Taking in the sight of food. The knowledge that he could eat any of it. He was allowed.

College Chick waved a hand in front of his face, breaking his silent reverie. “Don’t let all the penguins out.”

Sans closed the door with a grunt and looked around.

He tried to push down the hope that this would last. That maybe she wouldn’t get sick of him.

Maybe he could stay here.

He knew it was empty hope.

She said something, soft and gentle, that he didn’t hear at first.

“This is your home, now.”

It was too much. Sans shut down.

Don’t get attached.

It won’t last.

---

Sans wasn’t asleep when College Chick – Theresa – had started moving around again. He had been on the balcony of the spare room, watching Venus traverse the sky.

He didn’t know the time – he had no watch or clock to reference – but he knew it was early .

Very early.

Didn’t humans need sleep?

Theresa had a quick shower and was in the kitchen by the time Sans wandered back inside. He teleported directly to the kitchen, finding himself behind her again. He glanced at the stovetop clock.

4:13

She was taking a piece of toast out of the toaster.

“You’re up early,” Sans said.

He hadn’t meant to scare her, and he hadn’t expected her to throw the bread at him like a weapon. He jumped a foot over as the bread flew by and watched as it disappeared into the dark apartment.

“Guess that bread is … toast?” he asked.

The girl groaned, but he could hear the laughter in her voice. It made him think of Papyrus a little.

“Make a pun that bad this early again and you’ll be toast.”

Sans snorted.

“Fuck yeah,” the girl muttered as she turned away from him. Before he could consider a response she whirled around, pointing at his nasal cavity.

“Fuck no! I have to go to work!”

Sans blinked, thrown by the sudden change in her demeanor.

Plenty of his previous humans had worked. Usually they left him in their homes alone, often with a list of chores to have done by the time they returned.

“And?” he asked, truly lost.

Theresa turned and grabbed the remaining slice of toast and tore it in half. She held part of it out to Sans while she started ranting.

“I can’t leave you here. You’re not on the lease. I don’t even know if this place allows monsters? I mean I’m pretty sure they do … but I’m pretty sure they have to be on the lease. And I can’t have a stranger just … in my home while I’m gone.”

Sans couldn’t think of a response. He was staring at the bread she held out to him while she ranted.

He couldn’t figure out what she wanted

He couldn’t figure her out.

She  had offered him the bigger half.

It won’t last.

---

I dreamt of nothing.

Nothing so thick I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. There was no movement, no sensation at all. I was suffocating, but there was no need to breathe. I couldn’t see, but everything was inky blackness and blinding light. I couldn’t feel, but I was being compressed and pulled apart all at once.

I dreamt of everything.

Hands made of shadow and ink reaching for me. Grabbing and grasping, trying to catch me, only to phase through my arm, shirt, body. Faces oozed in and out of existence, their mouths open in unheard screams that were too loud.

I saw –

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

It was too early for anyone to be awake.

I rolled over with a groan and hit the “snooze” button on my alarm clock, glaring at the glowing time display.

Four hours of sleep was not enough.

I considered calling in sick to my first job, claiming I had the flu or something. Getting a full night’s sleep would definitely help my hangover.

Four oh one.

With an unhappy grunt I forced myself to sit and turned on my lamp. I closed my eyes against the light before it could sear into my dark-adjusted pupils and make my head throb.

As my vision adjusted I grabbed my pills and threw them back, swallowing them dry. I broke the seal of the water bottle, and drank the entire thing to chase the medication.

No time to waste, I needed to start my day.

I climbed out of bed and looked for clean clothes.

My organizational system was not working as well as I thought.

I eventually found a pair of jeans and a tee that I was reasonably certain were clean and I made my way to the bathroom.

I checked the bruise in the mirror, happy to notice that it wasn’t as prominent as I had feared. It was dark but it was small enough that I would probably avoid having coworkers ask about it.

I stripped and took a quick shower, water near scalding. Towel off, clothes on, and into the kitchen for breakfast.

My morning routine hadn’t changed in years, and I fell into a rhythm.

Two pieces of bread into the toaster, and I flipped through the news on my phone while I brushed my teeth.

The toaster pops and I spit into the sink.

I had just grabbed the first slice of bread when –

“You’re up early.”

I screamed.

I threw my toast at the unexpected and too-close voice.

It ninja-starred across my apartment.

Bone Ninja dodged. Not that he needed to, my aim was way off.

I’d never be Hokage at this rate.

“Guess that bread is … toast?” the skeleton asked, looking where my breakfast had flown.

I groaned, thrown off by the break in routine. “Make a pun that bad this early again and you’ll be toast.”

He gave a sort of half-hearted huffing chuckle.

A for Effort, I guess.

“Fuck yeah,” I muttered as I reached for the second piece of my breakfast.

I stopped as a realization hit me.

“Fuck no.” I spun on the skeleton, pointing and glaring at him. “I have to go to work!”

He blinked and part of my brain wondered how. How does bone blink? How do you blink without eyelids?

“And?” he asked.

I turned back around and grabbed the toast, tearing it roughly in half. I held out half to the skeleton while taking a bite out of the other. “I can’t leave you here. You’re not on the lease. I don’t even know if this place allows monsters? I mean, I’m pretty sure they do … but I’m pretty sure they have to be on the lease. And I can’t have a stranger just … in my home while I’m gone.”

My brain, sleep deprived and high on adrenaline, spiraled.

He could be a pyromaniac and would burn everything down. He could be a violent sociopath and set up maniacal traps. Wasn’t there some legend about monsters loving puzzles and those puzzles being deadly? He would start a cult with my neighbors and work to revive some Great Old One and bring destruction on humanity from my apartment, since that was the place where the Ley lines connected this world to the next and …

He was looking at the bread I was holding out confused, not taking it and was not on my train of thought.

Granted, the train had definitely left the tracks at this point.

“Hungry?” I asked, waving the half of toast a little. “Take it.”

He did and looked even more confused. I swallowed the last of my piece and washed my hands.

I needed to get back onto my routine.

I went into the bathroom to run a comb through my hair and style it enough that it wouldn’t frizz.

My brain kept going.

Shouty Old Guy had been on his way to get rid of Bones. There was an auction house somewhere near here that dealt with Monsters, and with the paperwork all filled out and just requiring a signature …

Why?

He hadn’t even fought that hard when I raised the amount of money I was extorting out of him. What had he said? ‘As long as it gets rid of him’? Something like that.

What had the skeleton done?

I glanced at the skeleton as I went to my bedroom to throw my bag together. I raised my voice to keep talking to him, uncertain if he was listening or cared.

“I can’t leave you here, so you’ll have to come to work with me.” I paused as I ran through my mental list of things I’d need today. “Is that a normal thing people do? Is that even allowed?”

I shook my head, trying to reign in my wandering thoughts. “I don’t really have a choice until I figure all this out and I know you aren’t insane or something.”

I shouldered my bag and rushed to the kitchen.

“No offense. I just … don’t feel comfortable leaving a stranger in my home. I’m sure you’re a polite skeleton with no predilections toward the eldritch.”

I stopped to consider our interactions so far. Lots of glaring and angry silence from him, and a whole night of drunken antics from my dumb ass.

I definitely had plenty of reason to believe he was polite and not evil.

I started putting together a lunch. Two water bottles from the fridge, a mental note to restock, an apple, a bag of chips.

“Hey, Boney!” I called out. He waved from the couch. I hadn’t noticed him laying there.

“Turkey or ham?” I asked as I looked at my packages of deli meat. “Have a preference?”

He shook his head and I decided on ham and cheddar. Put together the sandwich, cut it in half, add it to the bag with everything else.

Couple of granola bars and I had a lunch for champions.

“Anyway, you’re coming to work with me and hopefully I don’t end up fired. And you don’t get in trouble. And everything goes great and we celebrate our newfound friendship tonight. You ready for work, Bones?”

I turned to look at him and frowned.

He was standing by the door, staring at me all black eyes and barely masked hate. His hoodie was zipped but he still had no shoes, and his athletic shorts were looking even more ragged than they had yesterday.

I did some quick mental math and figured we would be able to swing by a shop between two of my jobs. I checked my bag to make sure I still had the two hundred from the old man.

Perfect. I could use it to buy the skeleton some clothes. It felt more appropriate than spending it on myself, anyway.

That meant I was carrying a lot of cash, but with any luck I’d be left alone since I had a spooky scary skeleton with me.

“Hi ho, hi ho,” I said to the skeleton as I walked toward the door. He furrowed his brow at me and I blinked. “You’re … not familiar with Snow White? ‘Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go?’ ”

Another shrug and I remembered he hadn’t had much time to explore the surface before … well, before. I held the door open for him.

“Gonna have to marathon all the Disney classics, then,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

---

My first job was one of my closest places of employment. Maintenance on the lines at a factory, then quality assurance testing earbuds. Unfortunately it started so early that I couldn’t take a bus, so I had to rush across part of the city on foot.

I hoped my shadowing skeleton would follow my lead as I wove through city streets and alleyways, moving at a jog. I checked on him a few times, when we passed windows and I could glance at his reflection, or when there was a fence to jump.

Somehow he kept up with me, despite walking at a leisurely pace, hands in hoodie pockets.

Impressive, but it only added to the terror I felt from his blank glare.

As we got the warehouse I pulled out my phone to check the time. A little before five. Right on time.

I sought out my foreman. He was the son of someone important and he got the position through nepotism rather than merit. At least, that was my theory. He wasn’t a bad manager, he was actually one of my better bosses. He did his best to treat everyone humanely and was humble enough to ask for help when he was in over his head.

He was often in over his head.

I found him in his office and explained that I had someone with me as I clocked in.

He was about to argue when he saw that “someone” in the doorway.

“Oh, a monster. Strange for you to have one,” he said and I felt my cheeks redden with shame. “If that’s it, then it’s fine, Just don’t let it mess up the line. If it breaks anything it’ll come out of your paycheck,”

“Of course.” I nodded and he dismissed me with a wave of his hand.

I spent the next hour doing maintenance. Fixing minor issues and wear and tear on the line, ensuring everything would run smoothly.

Officially I didn’t do this job. The maintenance guys were overwhelmed and the owners wouldn’t hire more people. “Everything works fine, why do we need more mechanics and engineers?”

Somehow the overnight maintenance guy learned I was all-but-certified to do some of the work. He worked out a deal with the foreman and I was asked to come in an hour early. I would then take care of some of the easy, routine tasks each morning.

It sucked, I missed the hour of sleep, but I needed the money.

I had nearly finished when my first coworker arrived.

She was a college girl, working her way through school. She was studying something in the hard sciences or maybe mathematics. Astrophysics or Cosmology or something. I wasn’t really sure. She was a sweetheart, and had made me a cupcake for my last birthday.

Her name started with an H. Hannah or Heather or something.

She stopped short when she saw the skeleton sitting on the ground near me.

“Who is this?!” She asked, somewhere between a shout and a screech. She looked between Boney and me a few times. “You have a monster? Since when?”

I sighed and finished tightening the nut I was working on before pulling myself to my feet.

“Yesterday through a series of unfortunate events. He’s … ” I stopped short.

I never asked his name.

He spent all day with me and had slept in my apartment and I owned him and I had no idea what his name was.

“He … He’s my bodyguard,” I finished, the lie sounding lame on my tongue.

“Oh! You do live in a rough area, don’t you? Well, I understand. Sometimes we have to compromise on our values so we can survive, right?” She gave a casual shrug as she walked away. I couldn’t help but shudder under the judgement in her tone.

I methodically put my tools back into place in their toolbox.

“Hey, Bones.” I said as I finished. Even without looking at him I could feel his eye sockets on my back and I knew they were black voids. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the uneasiness in my stomach, and not looking at him as I sorted my thoughts.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been acting like a very good person.”

I took a deep breath and spun around, holding a filthy hand out to him. I plastered a big smile on my face.

I tried not to feel the weight of my guilt.

“Hi. My name is Theresa Navarro. It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

The anger and hatred dropped from his face for a moment, replaced by a flicker of surprise. He glanced between my outstretched hand and my face, trying to see how sincere I was being.

After a lifetime he took my hand.

“Sans,” he said, voice soft and edged with confusion. “Sans the Skeleton.”

I shook his hand once then let it go and grabbed the toolbox to return it.

“Nice to meet you, Sans,” I said as I turned away. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

I had the impression that few of his owners had bothered to learn his name.

I returned the tools and told the maintenance guy about an issue on one of the lines that I couldn’t fix.

Then it was time to start what I had actually been hired to do. Four hours of mindless drudgery.

Quality Assurance testing for earbuds was an exceptionally basic process. Plug the headphones in. Make sure they scream like a computer being murdered. Then wrap them up and send them down the line to packaging.

It was easy, boring, and paid next to nothing, but it was stable.

Sans watched as I worked, sitting where he wasn’t interfering with the line or my coworkers. Some employees glanced our way as they came in to start their shifts, but no one said anything to me.

Most people didn’t seem to notice or care about the monster in the room.

After an hour of watching me the skeleton apparently got bored and he came over to help. He wrapped the cables after I tested them and my productivity improved immensely. I was grateful for the help, but I worried how it would mess up my numbers.

I only hoped I wouldn’t be expected to do the work of two people every day.

We passed the time in silence, working side by side until my phone buzzed in my pocket, letting me know it was time to go. I checked in with my manager and clocked out. Then I headed across the street to the overgrown park where I usually ate my first lunch.

It was more an empty lot than a park, but there were benches to sit. Most people ignored the area and it was mostly used by the homeless or the drug addicted. This time of day it was empty, and as long as you watched where you stepped –

I stopped just short of stepping off the sidewalk.

“Hey, Sans?” I asked. I gave him a moment to respond and sighed when he didn’t. “Can you catch human diseases?”

He gave me a weird look, confusion and curiosity plain on his boney face. I waved at the lot, “This park sometimes has used needles and stuff around. I don’t want you getting Monster AIDS or hepatitis or something.”

He looked down at his bare, skeletal feet and shrugged. “No.”

“I guess not having a liver probably helps,” I said, mostly to myself. I considered my options. I looked at his feet, then at the park, and then turned away and headed toward my next job. There was a nicer park by the hotel and neither of us would have to watch out for dirty needles or used condoms.

At one point I had one of those fitness trackers, a gift from my sister. She had tried to get everyone in the family to join together in a friendly fitness competition. Just some nice family bonding.

It ended within a week when everyone realized how much I traveled by foot. No one realized that I crossed the city multiple times every day. One of my brothers called me a cheater and the competition was dropped.

It was just as well since I lost the tracker a few weeks later. I had put it with my stuff in my locker one day and it had vanished like magic. I never did figure out which coworker stole it.

I led the way to the park and sat down on one of the benches near the playground. I handed a water bottle to the skeleton, along with half the sandwich, and then offered either apple or chips.

He chose chips.

I crunched the apple and people watched.

Or rather, skeleton watched.

Sans was leaning against a tree, watching the little kids on the playground. There was an almost soft expression on his face.

The pinpricks of light were back in his eyes.

I remembered the kid from the news stories, the one who had freed the monsters from the Underground. I couldn’t remember their name.

I assumed Sans didn’t know them. There were something like a million monsters in the Underground. Only a handful had interacted directly with the human child. I wondered if thee was any folklore or legends about the kid. Stories passed around the refugee camps in the early days on the Surface.

I couldn’t figure out how to ask Sans about them.

“I’ve got four hours here, then a couple hours as a sort of lunch break,” I said after I finished my apple. I threw the core at a trash can. I missed. I sighed and stretched. “There’s a strip mall a block or two from here. We should have enough time to stop there and get you some clothes.”

Sans said nothing, which I had come to expect. I threw the apple core into the trash and considered my remaining half of the lunch with a frown.

I was hungry.

I really didn’t feel like eating.

I glanced back and saw that Sans seemed to be waking up. Apparently the skeleton could sleep standing up. What a useful skill.

“Want some more sandwich? I’m not gonna eat it,” I said as I packed everything up.

“You keep feeding me,” the skeleton noted. “Trying to fatten me up?”

I laughed, “Yeah, you’re too skinny. I can see your ribs.”

He snorted in response as he took the other half of sandwich.

“Fuck yeah,” I said with a grin. I pointed at the building we were heading to, “Time for job number two.” I waved my hands in mock excitement. “Housekeeping. Yay.”

As we entered the hotel lobby I pointed to some of the plush couches and asked Sans to wait for me there. I headed into the employee area and put my belongings in one of the little half lockers.

This was one of my nicer jobs. The pay was okay and the conditions weren’t horrible. I had a safe place to keep my things while I worked, I didn’t have to work with people, and the whole place was air conditioned. It was also incredibly unlikely that I would get injured.

It was better than a lot of other options.

I changed into my work outfit and threw my regular clothes into the locker with my bag. As I clocked in I explained that I had a monster with me to one of my managers. Like before I was told as long as he didn’t distract me or cause damage it was fine.

And any damage he did cause would come out of my paycheck.

I left the employee area to collect Sans. He took one look at my outfit and damn near pissed himself laughing. The bones of his face were tinted blue.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, numbskull.” I growled in good nature.

It wasn’t like I particularly enjoyed cosplaying as a French maid to clean hotel rooms, but a job was a job.

“C’mon,” I said, motioning for him to follow me. “We have rooms to clean.”

I spent the next four hours playing maid. I stripped beds and replaced linens. I vacuumed, swept, and mopped. I scrubbed toilets and showers.

Meanwhile, Sans sat in various hotel room chairs and watched. He was occasionally taken over by a fit of giggles and I would roll my eyes.

I did look pretty dumb in this getup.

Eventually I gave him my phone and charger. I wanted him to have something to do besides watching my every move.

By the end of my shift I was hot, sweaty, annoyed, and more than ready to be back in my regular clothes.

I told my manager which rooms I had completed and which were unfinished. There were only two. One was a disaster that was way higher than my pay grade and I thought would need a biohazard team to get it back to normal. The other was locked from the inside and obviously occupied.

I clocked out and changed back into my normal attire.

It was so much nicer to be in a tee-shirt and jeans.

I met up with the skeleton in the lobby and led the way to the shopping center.

I was starving.

I didn’t want to eat.

Sans needed shoes.

---

I normally only shopped at thrift stores, but I had learned a long time ago not to buy thrift store shoes.

Cheap shoes were more expensive in the long run.

I led the way to a discount shoe store. New shoes, half the price. Most  were the perfectly reasonable shoes … if they had been black or white. Instead their designer had chosen the most garish colors and patterns.

Most of these shoes were abominations to the eye.

Sans found a pair of pink and white sneakers that fit his boney feet well. I chuckled at the color choice, but he seemed happy with them, so I was too. At least his shoes looked normal.

I grabbed a bag of socks and we paid and left. No bag necessary since he was wearing the shoes out.

I debated between the thrift store and Solar’s before settling on the latter. Getting Sans clothed was important, but I needed to try to get some food in me for my next job.

“Food, then fashion,” I said and I led the way to the bar.

Around three thirty we walked into Solar’s and I learned that my stomach did not appreciate the idea of food.

I walked up to the counter and sat in my usual spot, giving a tired wave to Grillby. My short night was catching up to me.

“Heya hot stuff,” I said with a smile as I lay my head on the counter. I giggled as he flared red.

“Welcome to Solar’s Bar and Grill, can I get you anything to start with?” Grillby asked and we pretended he didn’t.

I glanced at the skeleton beside me. “You gonna order?”

“I’m broke,” he said as he returned the look. His pupil lights were back.

I snorted, “So am I. People still gotta eat. If you’re hungry, get something.”

He paused and I hoped that I hadn’t just issued a command.

I had figured out Grillby’s commands and their limitations through trial and error. But was it different when the speaker was also the owner?

I put my hand on my stomach in an attempt to ease my sudden queasiness.

I wasn’t certain how the collar understood what a command was. Was it the literal words used, or was the tone of voice important? Was it somehow the speaker’s intent? I had heard somewhere that intent was very important to monsters. That it could effect their magic in a lot of different ways.

I dug into my bag for my notebook to write down a reminder. I needed to read up on this.

“How about a burg?” Sans asked. It almost sounded like he was asking for permission. My appetite shrank further.

“Great! Eat mine, I’m not hungry.”

Sans gave me a look, which Grillby apparently took note of.

I ignored them both.

Grillby pushed my drink to me, and I took a swig of it gratefully. The alcohol burned in all the right ways and I started to feel a little better.

Then the burger and fries appeared and I pushed them to the skeleton, taking a couple of fries as I did.

“Thirsty?” I asked, lifting my drink.

The skeleton got a mischievous look in his eye then said in a voice meant to carry, “I’d ask for water but Grillby doesn’t – ”

“Shouldn’t touch the stuff!” I finished with him, laughing. “I thought of that yesterday!”

Grillby made a cracking huff, which set me off laughing even harder. I took another couple fries and waggled them at him.

“Oh, c’mon. That was a good one,” I said with a smile. “Anyway, seriously Sans, do you want something? There’s a magic machine over there that will give you almost anything your … uh … heart? desires.” I waved at the fountain drink machine and Grillby proffered a glass to the skeleton.

Sans took the glass and wandered over to fight with the touch screen on the machine. I wondered if he could do it without fingertips.

I turned back to Grillby, “You and Sans knew each other before, right?”

I tried to make it more a statement than a question.

The fiery bartender looked surprised, but nodded. “… lived in the same town,” he said, his voice crackling softly.

“Neighbors,” I said with a nod. I looked back over at the skeleton, then sighed and finished off my drink. “I’m in over my head, Grillbz.”

The bartender was silent. I assumed that meant he agreed. Now that the adrenaline, anger, and anxiety from yesterday was out of my system I just felt sad. Defeated. Like I had made a terrible mistake.

“Sometimes we have to compromise our values to survive.” But what about when it wasn’t about survival? What if it was a selfish need to … Protect? Help one of millions? Not feel like the worst person imaginable?

“ … you’ll manage,” Grillby said softly. He put the check down next to me and I fumbled in my bag for my wallet. “ … stay determined.”

I chuckled and tried to mask my expression as I handed him my payment. I didn’t want him worrying about me, not when he had so many other concerns.

“Oh! Sorry Flame-bo, but times have been a bit tough,” a rough, booming voice said from behind me.

Too close.

I winced, grabbing the barstool to keep myself from jumping at the intrusion into my personal space.. Apollo reached over me to take the money from Grillby. He counted out what I owed then took the tip for himself.

I glared at his retreating form. “Asshole.”

I sighed and pulled my wallet back out. I still had a little backup money, my spare cash in case something happened.

I looked around, making sure the greedy bar owner wasn’t around, then held out some of what I had.

“It isn’t as much, but it’s what I got,” I said, voice thick with apology.

The bartender made a move to reject my offer, but I insisted. He took it gratefully before hiding it in his waistcoat pocket.

We didn’t end up leaving Solar’s until an hour later. I had decided it was more important for Sans to have a friendly conversation than making sure he had shirts. He was pretty well covered up in the hoodie when he kept it zipped.

We could get him some shirts in the next week.

My last job of the day was stuffing envelopes for some political campaign that I didn’t care about. I got to sit down and the biggest risks were either a sore back or a paper cut.

I ended the day with a lot of paper cuts.

It was nearly ten by the time I was done, well past the time I could go cutting through back alleys without fear. So I hopped on the bus to my apartment, Sans close behind me, and I paid the fare for us both out of his money. I made a note that I owed that fund some money.

We rode in silence. Him all blank eyes and rictus smile, me doing my best to ignore the other passengers.

Then we walked the two blocks to my apartment in silence.

Then up the stairs in silence because the elevator was still out of order.

I had a feeling that Sans was not very talkative.

Or he didn’t like me, which was entirely reasonable and most likely.

Sans all but vanished as soon as he stepped through the front door.

I slipped my shoes off just inside the door and looked at my kitchen. I still needed to make dinner.

I sighed and went to collect ingredients.

Noodles, cheap canned marinara, cheese.

Lasagna was one of the easiest dishes I knew and it kept well. I made it a lot and it was all I would eat for weeks.

While I was waiting for the water to boil I pulled out my laptop.

I had to actually tell the government that I was a slave owner and get the paperwork filed. I also needed to email the property manager and get Sans on the lease as a permitted resident.

I wanted to research how the collars processed commands, too. I didn’t want to unintentionally use a command on Sans.

I worked on everything while I cooked, sighing every time I caught sight of my clock.

After I pulled the lasagna out of the oven I took a small slice for myself. I left a slice for Sans on the counter before packing the rest into the fridge.

“Sans, there’s some lasagna if you want it,” I called out as I passed the spare rooms, uncertain which he had chosen. “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

I locked my door behind me and sat on my bed to eat and continue my research.

I glared at my alarm clock with an angry sigh.

There were never enough hours in the day.

---

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.

---