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It was National Rocky Road Day on June 2nd, Dawson had most helpfully informed his employer, and luckily for him, Mrs. Potosi was one to indulge his odd habit of marking down unofficial holidays. While The Sweet Spot wasn't wholly about ice cream, there were some shakes they could spruce up: add marshmallows and nuts, really, and one could pass plenty of things off as rocky road-ish. Within the early hours of the morning, the chalkboard sign outside reflected their new one day product for sale.

He was happily slurping on one of his own during break, sitting in one of the booths and letting the air conditioner blast him from above. With school out, he could see more people walking about through the windows, and as long as he wore his uniform, he actually felt like he could blend in with the crowd. Hell, he might have considered it if he hadn't had prime real estate for the summer at the moment. (Not that Massachusettes heat compared to the Georgia hard boil steam.)

The best thing about cool air blasting on him, though, was that it was relaxing. And damn if Dawson didn't need a break from his lowkey constant stress state. Even now he wondered if there was a pool with the other cashiers going on as to when he'd break something else on accident.

"Is your fat a** finished yet?" William asked. "Get over here, I need to leave early."

"Aw, shut yer piehole." Dawson snickered at the genius stealth pun. William had a large hankering for the pies alright. "I got five minutes."

"You said that ten minutes ago!"

"He'll get you," the cashier said with a polite and hastily tacked on Work Smile before scurrying off to punch out.

With a heaving sigh, Dawson pulled himself off the cushioned seat. "Sawry about him, ma'am, he ain' the..."

He paused. The woman looked familiar. And then he remembered blood and apply pressure here and no it's gonna be okay I promise--and flinched.

"O-Oh. Uh." Pretend that didn't happen. Waddle right on behind the counter now. "Yeah. Uh. I gotcha now," he all but mumbled as he slid his card into the register, not so subtly looking at her legs. Was his memory messed up? He could've sworn the lady had been standing up (albeit on paws), not in a wheelchair..."What can I do ya for?"

Blushing and mumbling something apologetic, Dawson went for the lemon bars first. "I ain' been well since, uh, that," he tried to explain. "Ya gotta understand, I ain' the brightest crayon. All that magic jargon gettin' thrown out like that takes a man fer a whirl, even without the whole injured people part."

He plopped the bars in the bag and set it down. Rather than go into the day's special, however, Dawson leaned in. "You ever hear talk about a rainy second Ashdown? 'Cause I walked right inta that one like two days ago." He shook his had. "This whole magic springin' on me outta nowhere is gettin' real old."

That was exactly what he didn't want to hear. Dawson made a face and scratched his beard in a quiet fret. "Why's all this weird shi--stuff goin' on in this town?" he asked in a lower tone. "Some Satanists gone about tearin' a portal t'some other dimension? Aliens? I got a bit of experience bein' a plumbr, n' I wanna plug these holes right up, okay?"

The last thing he needed was to get Daisy here and then have her infected with weird.

Dawson gave her a strange look but just nodded for now. He still had a job to do after all, and William had snuck out while he'd been distracted. Time to man the counter.

Taking the woman's order, he passed her the Rocky Road special and a bag of several lemon bars. It was obvious, as he rung her up, that he was eager to keep talking, even if the matter was deeply disturbing to him. Dawson didn't get to immediately follow her back, sadly--it was a hot day outside, and several more people had filed in looking for something to cool them off.

About ten minutes later, when he was sure nobody else was going to be interrupting, he ambled over to the booth the woman sat at and plopped down. "So, what," he asked in an almost whisper, "this magic stuff just...is?"

There it was again, therianthrope. It sounded like a disease, and rightly so.

"More magical?" he echoed with a faint whine. "Jesus...You saw what a lil' bit magical did back there. Anymore, this place might gonna burst. Who's tellin' y'all ya gotta keep it out?" Dawson asked. "There some head honcho of magic like that Harry Potter Minister 'r whatever?"

"Oh...kay then. But look, yer tellin' me y'all just popped inta animal form n' that's that?" Dawson pressed. "No rhyme r' reason t'it?"

"Well now yer jus' confusin' me, hun. How in the heck can ya jus' go poof inta furriness n' not be told the reason??" He was frowning loudly, if there was such a thing. "Tha' don' seem fair."