._Rookeries's Raevan

[Rookeries]

.

I have no right to say or do anything that diminishes a man in his own eyes. What matters is not what I think of him but what he thinks of himself. Hurting a man in his dignity is a crime.

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⒈ Meta ▪ Kahadlok
⒉ Meta ▪ The Final Fear
⒊ PRP ▪ You Can Go Home Again
⒋ Solo ▪ Soul Gathering Reflection ▪ 1, 2, 3, 4
⒌ Solo ▪ The Enemy
⒍ PRP ▪ Filled Bottle Pick Up ▪ Long Time No See
⒎ PRP ▪ Thanks-A-Plenty
⒏ Solo ▪ Child of Mine
⒐ PRP ▪ Purgatory, Pt. 1
⒑ PRP ▪ Purgatory, Pt. 2
⒒ PRP ▪ Purgatory, Pt. 3
⒓ Solo ▪ Gifts: 2013
⒔ ORP ▪ A Sweet Christmas Party
⒕ PRP ▪ It's Begining to Look a Lot Like Raevans

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[Rookeries]

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Duncan aids in the search for the missing Dr. Kyou with teammates Lazarus, Jeremy, and Basil.

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Mordekai had gone with Duncan to the search party meet-up out of obligation, and both of them stood anxiously by while Jeremiah explained what they had, and what they were in for. The list of supplies made Duncan rather anxious-- he hadn't realized the search would take so long, but it made sense, given the size of the forest. He had to squint to see his name on the blackboard-- there were three other names next to his on the list, all of them strangers, save Jeremy.

"You sure you want to do this?" Mordekai and Duncan waded through the crowd of people to where Jeremy was, "Have you even gone camping before?"

The two men stopped between walking, and Duncan stared off worriedly at the forest. He shook his head in response to the former question-- hopefully Mordekai would understand that-- and sighed, to collect his breath. "I haven't gone camping in quite some years, but-- I believe I'll be okay. Jeremiah seems to be on the same team as I am, and the supplies seem to be a necessary precaution."

"Okay," Mordekai grabbed Duncan by the shoulders, exasperated, "I'll be honest-- I'm not sure I trust you to be by yourself in a team. I mean-- I was trained for this search-and-rescue bull. It really makes no sense that you're going and not me, you know?"

Duncan pat Mordekai's arms down, "I think I have a few more tricks up my sleeve than you realize, Mordekai. I think I owe this much-- to Dr. Kyou and the Lab-- and it shouldn't take that many days. I've heard of this forest before."

Mordekai rolled his eyes and continued on their way, and Duncan followed. There was something welling in him telling him that he had to do at least this-- he'd been so absent from the Lab already, and he'd scarcely contributed to the project the remainder of the year. Raw strength and youthful machismo be damned-- he knew very well how to navigate a compass and save someone's life with a First Aid kit, if the situation called for it.

When Duncan reached the group with Mordekai, the other three team members were already there, and it seemed that at least Jeremiah and Lazarus were already quite acquainted with each other. He grimaced at the sight of the woman there-- she seemed worried, and he figured she wasn't on the team, given how the other names suggested the rest were male. Behind her was a Raevan-- quite different from the red one standing next to Jeremiah.

"Hey," Mordekai voiced, "Excuse me, Jeremiah. I think my father-in-law here is in your group?"

"Ah," Duncan stepped in front of Mordekai, extending his hand at Jeremiah in greeting, "Yes, I'm Duncan Clarke. It's very nice to meet all of you, though--" he glanced at Genie, and nodded politely, "Is everything alright? You seem awfully worried, miss."

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[Rookeries]

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Duncan, Lazarus, Jeremy, and Basil find themselves at a precipice with the other search and rescue teams.

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Adrenaline was the sole thing that fueled Duncan into moving through the forest as quickly as he did. If he slowed down any, he knew that his joints and back would give in, and the impending feeling of nauseum from lack of food and sleep would overwhelm him. When he saw the forest clearing up ahead, he grabbed at every tree trunk he managed to press against to walk faster-- he could hear people.

The miasma of anxiety hit him like a wave as soon as he stumbled into the clearing. He looked like a damned mess, he was sure, but the other teams fared no better than he, if not worse. There were several Raevans here, many bloodied-- how many of them were with their Guardians? Were they by themselves, like Basil without Genie? Nevertheless, he had people he cared for that he had to find. Anita and her group.

It took every bit of energy to avert his attention from the looming eye just up ahead, and he hadn't yet noticed the frail white figure stuck to its veins below. He looked widlly around, cupped his hands, and yelled: "Anita! Cruz!" before venturing further into the clearing. It was difficult for Duncan to focus his sights on anything-- everything was whirling-- but he managed to catch glimpse of a bright green aura just at the edge of his vision.

"Anita!" Duncan staggered his way towards the girl as Cruz went elsewhere. She was with with two other figures, neither recognizable to Duncan. "Your team-- is everyone alright? Where's Dr. Kyou?"

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[Rookeries]

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Duncan makes sure Basil is alright after their harrowing trek comes to an end. He speaks with his guardian, Genie Witham.

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Having the adrenaline kicked out of him was strange-- everything hurt, but he was grateful that his team, somehow, came out of this relatively unscathed, but he began more ragged with every compounding grievously injured person he saw. How could this search-and-rescue have gone so wrong?

Duncan felt more out of the way than actually helpful when he attempted to establish some medical support before the helicopters came. He wasn't able to do much-- maybe wrap people up with some too-thin layers of gauze and send the on their way with painkillers, which were difficult to swallow in the first place, given there was barely any water left in the whole group. In a way, Duncan latched onto helping Basil out of necessity of doing Genie right-- of guarding a Raevan, if only a little, and seeing that he made it out of this okay. Not unscathed, but okay. Alive. Genie would be distraught otherwise-- her worry permeated his mood considerably.

He made sure to check up on Basil when he could, offering what consolation could be given while everyone was being cajoled away. Basil didn't seem to be particularly cognizant when he did speak to him, though, but Duncan kept trying, kept trying to lead him where he needed to be; stay put and wait for the helicopter. The evacs. "We can go home soon."

Once it was their turn to fly out of Kahadlok, Duncan urged Basil in front of him so the evacs could escort the Raevan in first. He complied with what they asked of him-- What is your name? Are you injured? He didn't note the ache in his back, no, it seemed arbitrary-- he wasn't bleeding, he wasn't on the verge of dying. He plopped himself down unceremoniously to the seat in front of Basil and gave him space-- he didn't seem the type that wanted to be consorted overmuch, let alone babied. Still, he remained in front of him, on-guard, just in case something could go wrong.

The flight back to the village was short. Duncan was a bit overwhelmed by the aerial excursion, though, no matter how brief it was; once the evacs unclipped his belt, Duncan practically toppled out of his seat and waited patiently for Basil to do the same. They were among the last two to leave the helicopter, and Duncan stared at Basil, eyes eager and worried.

"Basil," he called out, firmly, "It's time for us to go. I'm sure Genie is waiting for you."

He was unsure if Basil was able to comprehend what he'd said-- the Raevan was displaying some typical characteristics of emptiness and non-responsiveness that he often had to deal with elsewhere. Still, Duncan maintained the best smile he could muster, his brows furrowed with sympathy.

"Are you alright?"

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[Rookeries]

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Duncan was hyperaware throughout their journey back to the Lab building. On the bus, after he spoke with Anita, the late evening was met with silence from him. It sickened him to see that so many of the Raevans were so badly injured, and that the guardians that remained on this trip were equally as traumatized mentally. How would either parties feel at seeing their Raevan or guardian so?

He was grateful that the only injury he'd sustained was his back. If he was privy to any of the other injuries he'd seen that evening, Duncan would likely have died somewhere within the forest, or from blood loss at the cliff. Despite his thankfulness, Duncan's back had stiffened and worsened significantly by the time he exited the bus. He ached and was unable to move from his lonely seat at the Lab for a long while-- he had neglected to call Mordekai to pick him up until the very last minute, as his phone had run dry.

Mordekai arrived an hour later with Duncan's car. The blonde parked nearest to the Lab he could and met Duncan at the front, his blue eyes wide with disbelief at actually finding him there. Duncan stood, much to his dismay, and received Mordekai's arrival with as best a smile as he could muster.

“Holy s**t,” Mordekai stammered-- he placed his shoulders on Duncan, then shook his head. He brushed some dirt off of Duncan's jacket, and laughed, “You look like hell.”

Other than his own voice, the remainder of the Lab area was quiet; Mordekai looked around the remainder of the Lab, perplexed. He released the filthy Duncan and looked routinely around at the premises, only to find his curiosity unquenched. “It seems like there are way less people here than yesterday. What happened? You guys found Dr. Kyou, right?”

“We did,” Duncan replied. He hadn't the time to observe Dr. Kyou for himself, not until the very last moment of their travels, when Jeremy signaled the flares. He wasn't aware that the frail figure beneath the Eye was the good doctor, as he had seemed so youthful in brochures, on the website, everywhere else. “A lot of the people that went sustained pretty severe injuries... they're probably at the hospital.”

Mordekai frowned, then shook his head. “Shame. Let's just be glad that you're okay, though. Have you eaten?”

“No, not at all...”

“Let's hurry, then.”

They climbed into the car, and Mordekai blasted the radio. Despite Duncan's looming headache, he was grateful for the noise.


***


They had chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. It was Duncan's favorite meal, and Mordekai knew this. As Duncan bit into the chicken, though, the damp smell of the mass grave swept in from his memory. He took one bite, reeled, and excused himself: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I have no appetite today. He couldn't apologize profusely enough, not when Mordekai had cooked and it was all for nothing. He tried to eat some of the mashed potatoes before admitting defeat, but the texture of it made his already dry throat choke.

Duncan resigned himself and drank from another cup of water, which was one of many since his departure from Kahadlok. He held the glass with both hands and snailed his way to their humble living area. He plopped onto the couch and stared at television, something he hadn't done in years, and watched its blank, black screen with full attention.


***


He could not sleep. He initially struggled in going up the stairs, his back now too bent for any significant movement. Mordekai supported his back halfway up the stairs, but Duncan couldn't do it, and he resigned himself to sleeping on the couch. His feet hovered over the side, and the night became gradually colder as it descended into midnight. He was aware of everything that occurred around him; he studied every mote of dust and the angle of the shadows from his home's surrounding windows. Yet, despite his contemplation, Duncan was thinking of nothing at all.

Duncan rose from the couch and shuffled off of the bedsheets, though he grunted briefly at the pain that followed. Steadily, he rose, and bent one arm behind his back for insurance. He walked toward the backyard entrance and stared out into it-- it was difficult to see anything at all, save for the stark, teal glimmers that shone off the surrounding flora.

Mordekai had shut off the lamp lights in the garden for the night, before he went to sleep. They were typically lit constantly, as Duncan used it was a ward for world-weary travelers, supernatural or otherwise. It was rare when a wayfarer would arrive at their house, but it happened a handful of times before, and many of them gave their warm blessings to the garden-- they kissed the flowers, they whispered to the fruits.

Duncan slid his hand across the wall and turned on the lights. He stared at the pomegranate bramble at the epicenter of the front garden-- no entity had ever blessed it. Duncan quietly unlocked the backyard entrance and walked towards it to inspect the bush: maybe there was something wrong with it? No spirit of considerable merit had entered their garden since Anne had died; Duncan wondered bitterly if it was cursed.

The old man circled around the pomegranate brush and stared at the remainder of his home, the door to the backyard, the window of his bedroom just upstairs (though it made his back strain further)-- yes. The pomegranates were cursed, and so was this house, with its terrible memories and his losses. Duncan had felt the weight of it all last summer, when fear struck his heart and that of innocent bystanders: Jillette, Jerri, Rebecca, Anita, Cruz. Him. But he knew that no mystical being was at fault-- it was his; he had somehow failed to keep the peace.

He turned back to stare at the remainder of the garden, and the forest just behind it. The vegetable and fruit garden was kept well out of necessity, but the ivy gate that loomed in front of it was overgrown, and the surrounding fruit bushes were sickly and wilted. Awake and ambivalent, Duncan walked past the ivy gate, and past the vegetables and fruit, toward the cobblestone road that led to the gazebo.


***


His bare feet felt cool against the dirt and grass.

Duncan hadn't explored the gazebo nor its surrounding wilds since last summer. It was a haunted place for everyone, and brought on a horrible sickness every time Duncan thought on it. He avoided any conversation pertaining to it with anyone, and for a while, had long forgotten about it. He only showed the faintest resignation in returning the gazebo upon remembering what contents he'd left there, but what use was there in retrieving them? Duncan paused where he was, amidst the sound of crickets and wind.

This was his responsibility.

He had thought about abandoning his responsibilities to Lab time after time again, but he always refused: why, then, would it be any different now? He had to overcome his own weak resolve. There was nothing to be afraid of-- there was nothing to scar him here. There were only two bottles there. Two bottles the Lab had entrusted in him to take care of.

He moved on.

The door to the gazebo creaked loudly enough to echo through the woods. When Duncan stared inside, he expected to see nothing but ink black, but was instead met with a calm pink light that flooded its surroundings like a torch. Duncan stared at the round bottle illuminated with its lazy whirl of light-- at first, it was out of awe, then confusion. He shuffled toward the soul bottle and sat down in front of it.

He placed one hand on the soul bottle. It was hot, and his hand was painted with a magnificent crimson, just like its cloth casing. In slowly-growing horror, Duncan lifted the bottle from its place and stared at it. The ground below it was stained with a faint shade of red, which was one of two things that remained of Mordekai's cocktail from last year.

“No,” he whispered, “It can't be...”

Before regret settled in fully, Duncan placed the soul bottle into his lap and quickly picked up the second container next to it. He panicked-- the fel essence was, despite its magical qualities, still water, and it had been sitting out in the open for four seasons. Duncan wiped the dust and grime from the larger bottle of rain and prayed-- would it be empty? An ample layer of dust chalked his fingers, but the glass surface now felt clean. He raised the bottle up against the faint moonlight, which shined into the gazebo through the cracks of the wooden fencing. Opalescent beads of rain floated serenely through the container as it was moved, and Duncan stared dumbly at them.

They were okay-- the rain was okay. Both the vial and the bottle were safe. They were filled.

Even after a year of neglect, they had remained with him.

Duncan clutched the two bottles near his heart. He wept, and despite his broken back, knelt toward them, holding them as if they were his own.

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[Rookeries]

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Duncan kept the essence and soul bottle in the shelf of his bedside cabinet. It was a cold, hard place, unlike its initial residence atop the piano downstairs. But in the shelf, Duncan thought, it was safe. No one could steal it. And, certainly, no one could throw it away. It felt strange, his caution, for he'd never worried about burglars entering his home. He supposed that wasn't who he was worried about. His enemy, in fact, was downstairs, cooking them both dinner.

Duncan rarely saw himself out of the bedroom after the events of the jungle, as his back was sore and he'd been given temporary leave from work. But he refused to stay nestled in bed, waiting for time to pass, and instead sat at his desk, reading over the same lines of books he'd read long ago. He could tell by the brightness of the pages that it was a beautiful day outside. He glanced out at his window, which was kept open to let the breeze in, and stared at the rest of the neighborhood. Peaceful, as always. From downstairs wafted the smell of roasting chicken.

He risked a glance at his cabinet, then; to look at it seemed a bad omen, as if it were to disappear as soon as he were to open it-- and to think, he'd never considered himself a superstitious man! Duncan leaned gingerly back into his chair and closed his book, then rose from his seat. He walked to the cabinet and pulled the shelf open. This had been his only time since he found the soul bottle at the gazebo.

It remained there, glowing and bright red still, its light seeping through the shelf's white paneling. The soul bottle rolled slightly when Duncan pulled the shelf open, and as if it could break, Duncan carefully stopped it. He stared. It was safe. He closed it again and sat at his the edge of his bed, one hand covering his mouth. Of course it would be.

Of course it would be! The lunacy of his behavior struck him like a thunderbolt. He hung his head like a punished child and shook his head; he scoffed. The fear hadn't quite shaken itself out of his bones since the jungle, and since then, he felt as if he were a leery, possessive pile of rocks, protecting his own, but he was tired of being on the defensive. He would act on the offensive, now. He would reveal his secret and destroy any notion that he may relent. He would continue with his project despite the unfortunate circumstances of the soul capture. It must be done, we've no other choice!

When he rose, his strength left him. Yet, he dared to take a step forward, toward the door, and it was enough to propel him the rest of the way. He left his door open, so as not to look back, and marched downstairs. To the enemy.

Mordekai glanced up toward the stairway at the sound of echoing footsteps, so big and empty their house was. His arms were crossed and he was staring blankly at the oven, which was now heating up what he'd prepared for the last few hours. He looked worried, as he always had since Duncan returned from the jungle. He pushed against the counter to stand upright and away from it, giving Duncan the whole of his attention as he walked the rest of his way downstairs. Between them were a few moments of silence as they walked to meet each other somewhere between the two floors. The front lines.

"Need anything?" Mordekai began, cautiously silent.

The way Duncan looked up at him visibly surprised him. Duncan looked worn and old, his eyes leery and unapproachable. When his question was met with silence, and Duncan trudged on, Mordekai followed curiously behind him-- when Duncan reached for the fridge handle, he found himself reflexively extending his hand toward it. First, to formulate a plan.

"Did you want something to drink? I could've gotten it for you--"

"I can get it myself," Duncan announced, irate, his voice rising above the silence of the home. Every bit indignant, he opened the fridge to retrieve their pitcher of water.

Mordekai took this as cue enough to stand down, and immediately, he backed away from Duncan. He frowned but extended no other word to him. Once Duncan closed the fridge and looked at him, he grew shocked. The boy was simply being helpful. He glanced at the floor, shameful, and moved to place the pitcher on the counter.

He was no boy playing war. How foolish. "I apologize," Duncan began, weakly; Mordekai remained where he was, unmoving, though his eyes flickered toward Duncan. He still looked the more apologetic of the two for reasons Duncan could barely comprehend, but he bit his tongue and continued, his eyes focused on the blond. "I shouldn't have been so snappish. Thank you for dinner-- chicken, I presume?"

Mordekai looked back up at him with a tired grimace; he shrugged, then cautiously turned more toward Duncan. "'Course. Anything for my old man," he joked, quietly; he gestured toward the cabinets, "You need a cup?"

Duncan relented a small, relieved laugh. He smiled at the counter. Though he still felt a touch wary, he waved it down. He needed to approach this a different way-- a friendlier way-- but he'd come unprepared for such a tactic. "Yes."

Mordekai nodded and moved around the kitchen island toward the cabinets, fishing around for a sizable enough cup. The last bit of momentous hatred Duncan might have had was thrown to the wind as soon as Mordekai handed him a glass cup. He looked up at Mordekai-- still, even if he did not hate him, he had to act now. When he had the bravado to.

"I'm going to call Zeke today," Duncan began. He took a sip from his cup, and Mordekai stared at him, brows upturned. "Zeke, from Lab 305."

"Oh." Mordekai rested his arms against the side of the counter-- he looked away from Duncan toward the living room across from them. Duncan looked, too, as if someone were watching them (perhaps Judgment itself?) and found nothing.

Just as Duncan breathed in to interject, Mordekai continued. "For what?"

Duncan grew tense. To retrieve a new soul bottle. To undo this mistake of a capture. "To continue onto the next phase of the project."

Mordekai looked out the kitchen windows. Nonchalantly, he shrugged, and offered Duncan a lopsided smile. "That's great. You found a soul and everything?"

"Yes," Duncan choked out. But not the right one. He pretended it to be from his parched throat, and took another sip of water. I am sorry. "A pomegranate fruit from our garden."

Even admitting that much was enough to render Duncan guilt-ridden, and though he felt the weight of Mordekai's staring at him, he did not feel strong-- not now. Duncan let slip a genuine frown as he drank from his water, keeping silent and avoiding this man in front of him. It was only when he finally finished off his water that he found no excuse to hide behind, and he braced a glance up at Mordekai. He looked every bit as surprised as he thought he would be. It did not help him in the least.

"I saw it fitting," Duncan lied. It was only when the sentence slipped from his lips that he found it painfully true. He bowed his head in silent apology and looked again to his cup. Then stirred another uncomfortable silence. Mordekai shifted from where he was, straightened himself, and breathed in.

"It is," Mordekai began. He walked toward Duncan, which surprised the older man immeasurably; Duncan looked up from the counter, eyes wide, as Mordekai placed a hand on his shoulder. "It really is. Sure she would've chose the same thing."

Mordekai paused, growing worried, and gently squeezed Duncan's shoulder. Duncan could feel Mordekai's hand shaking, and though the blond tried to smile reassuringly, every inch of him looked nervous and guilty.

"Hey, look..." Mordekai sucked in his breath; he looked away, toward Judgment again, and continued, "I know this means a lot to you, so-- I'm gonna try and support you any way I know how, okay? I know I hated all this before, but-- this ain't my thing. It's yours. I'm sorry I made it so hard to talk about, but let's change that," Mordekai searched Duncan's face for any sense of approval, "Yeah?"

Duncan returned a weak smile Mordekai's way. At any other time, this change-- this revelation-- would have meant the world to him, but not now-- Mordekai wasn't the one to be apologizing. Duncan felt heavy-- nauseated-- and loomed, his jaw gaped as if to say anything at all. "Thank you, Mordekai. Hearing that means so much to me," his tone was robotic. He placed the cup on the counter and stepped aside, and walked to the stairway at haste, "I'll give Zeke a call as soon as I can, son."

Yes. Mordekai was not his enemy, but his son. The only harm that could come from this was from Duncan himself-- and Duncan saw to protect Mordekai however way he could, even if it meant telling half-truths. He couldn't risk having this soul bottle taken away from him, from them, if it was truly their only chance. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he felt his feet crumbling beneath him. He hurried to his room.

Mordekai, meanwhile, stared at where Duncan had begun stepping away from him. "s**t," he whispered, weakly; he was sure his apology had come too late.

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[Rookeries]

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Zeke visits Duncan at his home to pick up his filled soul bottle, and the two reconnect; Duncan tries to hide some of his uncertainties.

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It was hectic after Kahadlok, but the labor was certainly worth it. He was still pleasantly glowing from when Mordekai expressed his support for continuing the Lab project, and by the beginning of November, Duncan had prepared his graces to call in for a Raevan appointment. He waited for solid month before making any advances, though, as he had observed the horrific injuries many of the Lab's staff had sustained, and had no desire to fuss.

Fortunately for Duncan, he hadn't suffered from any truly visible injuries, but was unable to work for a period of time due to a meddlesome back injury, which spiked in pain when the cold season began to settle in. He managed to acquire a back brace from the doctor's, which was easily concealable through his typical layers of thickly wooled clothing. There was no change in his typical style of attire today, of course, though Duncan looked vastly different from when he saw Zeke last-- during his first appointment, he was still wearing his gardening wares, where he would typically greet others with a simple semi-formal sweatervest ensemble.

The cold was difficult to cooperate with in the Clarke household, as its entire flooring was made of wood, and any autumn air that seeped inside settled into every crevasse. By the time Zeke had arrived to the house, he was preparing hot water for tea, and had already picked up a few arrangements of fruit and bread for his guest. upon hearing the age-old ding of the doorbell, Duncan paused immediately in peeling apples and made his way toward the door. He glanced through the peephole and could easily discern Zeke's signature green-and-purple hair, which caused him to smile slightly in amusement.

He swung the door open and offered Zeke a handshake in greeting, his smile quickly widening to a grin. "Zeke, it's so good to see you again," he noted the cold, and quickly moved out of the way for the veterinarian, "Please, come in. I was just making some tea for the cold."

The house itself wasn't necessarily s**c-and-span, but it was cozy and snug-- the exterior was deceivingly small in comparison to its actual size. It was a plain place, decorated sparsely with an occasional photo and framed drawing.

Once the teapot began squealing, Duncan looked back and hurriedly wandered back to the kitchen. Just in front of the counter was an empty dining table, which shone brightly with the light protruding from the backyard, which was magnificently green and covered in flora. After Duncan quickly shut the heat to the stove off, he grabbed the fruit and bread assortment and rushed it to the table, where he ushered Zeke forward.

"Pardon me, I'm a bit behind on preparing. I'll go get the bottles once you settle in."

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[Rookeries]

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Anita, Cruz, and Tango take up Duncan's offer to join him, Mordekai, and their assorted friends and family for a rambunctious Thanksgiving dinner.

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IThe preparations for the evening were hectic, but in the end, things tied together rather smoothly. Duncan was still struggling with backaches, and though Mordekai had to pull a lot of his weight in the effort as a result, they ended up with a clean, deceivingly spacious looking house and more food than they had planned for. If so many of their guests hadn't taken into account the household's love for meat, the night was going to be a fairly boring ensemble of ham, turkey, potatoes, pie, and green beans.

By the time Anita had arrived to the scene, most of the other guests had already shown up, and Duncan was already preoccupied with entertaining and acclimating what guests there were to the drinks and sitting stations. A crowd of the more fancily dressed were gathered around the couch: Rebecca and her children sat on one small oat couch, while Johan, his girlfriend, and her parents and grandparents crowded around another, with their possessions completely covering the coffee table in front of them. In the backyard were a group of men huddled around a grill to fend off against the looming cold; their voices and eager laughter echoed through the surrounding premise.

Duncan began to ascend the stairs-- much to the annoyance of two women, who grimaced anyhow and said their apologies-- he heard knocking at the door. He paused mid-step and glanced over at the women, eyes wide.

"Ah-- Jocelyn, did somebody knock?"

"I think so," replied Jocelyn; she was a mousy woman and the smaller of the two, her hair a distinct, bright purple. Rebecca rose from her couch and walked past the stairs, causing the amethyst-haired girl to glance apathetically toward her direction. Rebecca looked back at Duncan, her hand on the doorknob.

"I got it."

Duncan nodded and resumed rushing upstairs. Rebecca swung the door wide open and grinned pleasantly at the triad, though she offered some skepticism afterward when she noticed Tango was with them. She moved out of the way of Anita and Cruz, however, and allowed the warm lighting of the room to flood past the threshold. Even from here, it was evident that cups and bottles of varying labels, from innocuous cider to stouts, lay strewn about every nook and table of the house. Several smells loomed in from the kitchen, which was obstructed by a wall: garlic, faint cinnamon and nutmeg, and the pleasantries of roasting meat.

"It's nice to see you again, Anita and Cruz. And your friend there, too," she offered a strained smile to Tango, then a stiff handshake to them both. "Come on in."

Both Jerri and Jillette poked their heads out from behind the stair framing. Jillette and Jerri immediately started to bubble with smiles, and ran over to where Rebecca was: Jillette was wearing a cream chiffon dress with a brown shrug, while Jerri was in a suit of similar hues.

"Hi, hi, hi!" Jillette beamed, "You came, you came, you came!!"

Just then, the sound of a roaring motorcycle ventured in from the horizon, and Mordekai stuck his had out of the kitchen. He looked surprised at seeing Anita and Cruz there, then confused, but he offered a haphazard smile and wave nonetheless. "Good day, ma'am," he sounded, then laughed, "Brace yourselves, that bike's gonna be loud."

And loud it was-- as it neared the house, the volume increased, until it came to a sudden halt with a rev. A figure in a leather jacket and helmet laughed while Dr. Mancinelli, the doctor from the hospital, clinged to dear life. The doctor immediately took off her helmet and released a strained, stressed sigh.

"Never again." she took notice of the three, her brows upturned, "Are we at the right place?"

As the doctor hopped off of the motorcycle, the jacketed figure took off her helmet and offered the three guests a tired smile. "I'm sure of it. Hey, folks, what's cooking?"

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[Rookeries]

.

An hour after midnight and everyone had gone from the Thanksgiving celebrations, leaving a sea of clutter for Mordekai and Duncan to clean - the last of their guests to leave were the boys, and there was a torrent of bottles in their wake littering the backyard, and dishes were strewn about the dining area from hours before. In some part, the tidying up was pleasant for Duncan, despite the late hour and the wear he felt beneath his eyes, but it was clear that Mordekai did not feel the same. He cleaned the best he could, ignoring his dizziness for a while, sweeping away garbage and slowly gathering the half-empty bottles from outside, but the heaviness he felt pushing against his temples was growing unbearable. His balance was crumpling and every misstep lead to a brief need to pause, slowing him down considerably.

When Mordekai finally stopped to lean against the counter in silence to the length of a Rush song dimly playing on the radio, Duncan knew it was time to stop for the night. Duncan did the best he could to support Mordekai’s weight while trudging along their narrow flight of stairs, but Mordekai was a tall man (a few inches past six feet) and Duncan was not quite so lucky (a few inches under).

Still, they made it to the hall and into Mordekai’s bedroom, and all the while Mordekai was very still and very quiet, past indecipherable mumbling and winces - as gently as he could, Duncan deposited the blond into his bed. Even as Duncan tucked the blankets around him, Mordekai did not say a word. After Mordekai looked comfortably nested, Duncan pulled up a plastic chair at the corner of his room to the front of the bed, scrutinizing the bottles and clothes its feet dragged against on the floor below. When the bottles finally finished rolling beneath him, Duncan took his seat and stared with concentrated concern at his son-in-law.

He considered getting a glass of water from the bathroom, or maybe some food from the kitchen, but Mordekai’s uneven breaths and stillness kept Duncan glued to his seat in anticipation. Duncan watched as the blond’s brows curled up as a pang of nausea and pain made him gasp, and he glanced back at his son’s desk, which was occupied by orange bottles and little else. Duncan perused through in hopes of finding any painkillers nearby, but it was difficult to make them out in the darkness, and the sound of rattling pills were intercepted by a low, distressing hum from Mordekai. Duncan glanced quickly back, pulling his chair closer to Mordekai’s side.

“S’hot,” Mordekai murmured, his hands uselessly palming at the edge of the bedsheets tucked around him. Duncan drew the bedsheets back, allowing Mordekai’s shoulders and neck more breathing space. Leaning forward, Duncan felt Mordekai’s forehead with his palm - it was fever-hot, his skin slick with a coating of sweat. It was a marked difference from just moments before, when they were going up the stairs, where he was merely warm and drowsy.

Duncan brushed some of Mordekai’s bangs away from his eyes. “I can tell,” he replied quietly, then pulled his hand back. He hesitated. “How much have you had to drink, son?”

“Mm,” Mordekai attempted to pry the bedsheets down further, and Duncan helped him do so until they were completely off. It was when Mordekai made an attempt to sit that alarmed him, though his efforts stopped short after he haplessly tried to push himself up by his arms, which were too shaky now to do him any good. Duncan caught his shoulders to relax him steadily back onto the bed, and Mordekai managed to wrap an arm around him to cling to the back of his sweater. He didn’t let go.

Duncan tried to recall back to how many drinks he’d seen Mordekai have during the festivities. Three empty beer bottles had been on the counter by the time he’d finished preparing dinner. He had two more throughout supper, then Duncan lost sight of his intake as soon as Mordekai stepped through to the patio for the remainder of the night.

Really, Mordekai shouldn’t have been privy to any of it - the beer, the bottle of whiskey he brought out from his pantry, the bottles of vodka and tequila his friends had stored away in boxes behind their truck. Before Duncan could well too much with guilt, Mordekai breathed out in another soft wince, attempting to sit up again. His fingers curled against Duncan’s sweater for added leverage. Duncan slouched to the side with Mordekai’s weight as he hugged him, the blond’s free hand obscuring his face.

“How much have you had to drink?” Duncan repeated. Mordekai lifted his knees, back drooping until his forehead rested against his legs.

“I dunno,” he murmured, head bobbing down against Duncan’s shoulder. His head felt heavy, pain squeezing at his joints whenever he moved. Mordekai let in a sharp breath, nudging himself closer to the edge of the bed, one leg sliding off. “Gotta-- finish cleanin’.”

“We can pick it back up in the morning. You need your rest.” Without much force at all, Duncan craned forward and pressed Mordekai’s opposing shoulder with his palm, coaxing him back into lying down, though one of his feet was still dangling off of the edge.

“I can do it. I can do it,” Mordekai lurched back up to a clumsy sit on his side - the vertigo hit him immediately, and Mordekai covered his eyes, wincing at the brightness of the moonlight illuminating the bedroom. “I can do it,” he hissed in further reassurance, though he didn’t budge.

“You made everyone’s dinner. I would imagine that warrants a break,” Duncan offered, though Mordekai remained sitting and leaning against him, ever so stubborn. The only thing Duncan could imagine to prevent Mordekai from trying to move - which, he knew, would end terribly - was to divert the topic for now. With how drowsy he felt, he hoped enough idle chatter would help him sleep.

“Did you have a good Thanksgiving?” Duncan asked. Whether because the body heat had rendered him too warm or from a sudden growth in awareness, Mordekai leaned away and slammed his head gracelessly against the wall hugging the bed. Duncan reached forward on reflex, but when Mordekai remained sitting there, he relaxed back into his chair. Mordekai mumbled something, and Duncan could not tell if he’d answered his question at all.

“You seemed to be having fun,” he added, while Mordekai closed his eyes and breathed in, hands rubbing at his face.

“I like your friends… Anita an’ Cruz… they’re nice. Thought everybody at Lab was gunna be a buncha freaks...” He drooped down again, head against his knees while he prayed the dizziness would wear off. “I know ‘m crazy. But das diff’rent.”

Duncan frowned, hands folded and resting at the top of his lap. “You’re not crazy. But I agree, Anita and Cruz are very nice--”

“No, ‘m crazy-- ‘m all crazy-- feel all weird, mess up alla time.” Mordekai clutched his hair, shaking his head against his jeans, swaying in his place on the bed. “I ‘ope dey don’t think ‘m weird. ‘Ope they’re okay wid me.”

“They like you plenty, Mordekai. They seemed to be having fun,” Duncan offered a smile in consolation, hand reaching to touch Mordekai’s leg in reassurance. “And we’ve been working on the mistakes, haven’t we? We’ve gotten very far.”

Mordekai continued swaying there, head against his knees, hidden from sight. “‘M sorry for callin’ ‘em freaks,” he murmured - the jump in topic caused Duncan to somber. “I jus’ called your kid a freak… I din’t mean it.”

“You didn’t mean it,” Duncan assured. “I know.”

“Your kid ain’t gunna be a freak,” he whispered back.

“‘Freak’ isn’t a very kind term, is it? It’s very rude to call anyone a freak,” Duncan mused, and Mordekai reeled visibly back in shame, though he nodded in agreement. “However way you use it, I can’t imagine it’s very important. We would love our child all the same, now, wouldn’t we?” A smile grew on Duncan, and he tapped Mordekai’s leg before straightening back into his seat. Mordekai remained hunched up, clawing his fingers into his hair the best he could with dull nails.

“Our kid…” Mordekai scrunched his hair up and pulled his knees up further, “I can’t be a dad. ‘M gunna mess up. I’d mess up real bad.” With knit brows, Duncan rose and leaned forward to help pry Mordekai’s hands away from his head, but he didn’t budge. Still, he had to try, and he kept his hands over Mordekai’s. He’d let the blunder slip right by him, but Duncan flustered at the mistake, staring at the top of Mordekai’s head meanwhile.

“You wouldn’t mess anything up, Mordekai. I’d be there to help you, and so many others would be,” Duncan began, hands steadfast onto Mordekai’s even as he continued gripping at his hair, swaying like the motions of a ship. "You wouldn’t be a bad father.”

“You’re already takin’ care of me… I can’t take care of anythin’. You’re so good at takin’ care of me,” he began, letting out a sharp gasp, “I dunno how. Y’jus’ wanna be a dad again-- ‘cause you get it. ‘M sorry, I shoulda said sorry quicker.”

A few more stray gasps left Mordekai, and Duncan moved his hands down further against his back to urge him forward. He shook his head. “We’ve had our rough patches, Mordekai, but it’s nothing I blame you for. And you’ve been doing so much-- you clean the house, you make our dinners… you make the house seem a little less lonely. It’s more than your old man could ask for.” With a soft smile, he swayed with him. “It didn’t matter what time it came at, Mordekai. Thank you for apologizing at all. Even if it came ten years from now, I would still be very happy.”

“‘M real sorry, Duncan. I din’t mean anytin’ bad. I hurt you a lot,” his voice was cracked, quiet, and he pulled his hands to the front of his face, fingers curling against his forehead.

“You were just scared. I understand. It’s alright.” Duncan was pulled forward as Mordekai clung to the back of his sweater, but he remained as still as he could, hands brushing his back. “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m certainly not hurt anymore.”

“M sorry, ‘m sorry. I dunno what t’do. I still hurt you--” With a small breath, he began crying, and Duncan pulled him closer, hands folded over the blond’s back.

“It’s alright. It’s alright if you don’t want to be a father, I understand,” His reply was soft, and he remained as still as he could despite Mordekai’s shaking as he grew to quiet sobbing. “I’m still very proud to have you as a son.”

“I wanna be,” he cried, “I jus’ dunno how… I’d be so bad.”

The shock caused Duncan’s eyes to widen, but it faded quickly, and with a soft expression he replied with a quiet calm. “Mordekai,” Duncan leaned away just slightly to glance down at Mordekai, who continued staring at the bed, tears wetting his jeans. “How long have you felt like this?”

“A long time,” he nodded listlessly, arms uneasy though he managed to pry them away from Duncan’s back. “A long, long time.”

A silence fell between the two as Duncan’s expression faltered to a weary frown, but with an inhale of breath he nodded. “Let’s call Stephen. You’re running a fever,” he whispered, forcing a smile - he carefully leaned away and rested his hands on Mordekai’s shoulders, easing him forward. Mordekai managed to subside back into silence and remained still while resting against the bed, too worn out to move, and Duncan continued to feel a lingering guilt swelling his chest as he saw a stream of tears run down Mordekai’s face. Without objections, Mordekai laid back on the bed and turned away from Duncan, still shaken, his hands masking his face. With a rattled breath, his sobbing came to an uneven halt, hands clutching his temples.

“‘M okay, I-- I can go to work,” he managed. Duncan replaced the chair back in its rightful place at the table, then looked back in disapproval.

“Not like this. You would hurt yourself,” Duncan replied, hands resting on Mordekai’s hair to get a feel for his temperature - his fever was running higher by the minute. “And you’re bound to catch a cold. Absolutely not. I’ll fetch you some tea.”

“‘M okay,” Mordekai whispered back - with a choked laugh, he pulled his hands away from his face. They shook so much the bed covering shuffled quietly with noise, like an idle itch. “Everythin’ always hurts.”

“It’s not okay. Please, get some rest.”” With that, Duncan turned away to the light of the hall, leaving the bedroom door open.

By the time he returned upstairs with a tray, a plate of bread, a teapot, and two cups in stow, Mordekai had fallen fast asleep. The little diversion had worked, but at a cost, and Duncan left the tray at Mordekai’s desk and left for his own room to send Stephen a small message so as not to disturb him in the late hour. The next morning, Duncan smelled the familiar pairings of scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee downstairs - he knocked at Mordekai’s door and saw that he was gone. A call to Hartline Farms confirmed that he’d left for work anyway, and the tray still had a full pot of now-cold tea and uneaten bread. Next to it was an empty bottle of beer Duncan did not recognize from the previous night.

This was no place to raise a child yet, and Duncan knew what had to change or move on. The change would be hard work, but now it was his only choice.

.  

[Rookeries]

.

Mordekai calls Anita over some of his confusions.

▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪


Mordekai felt like an elephant in the room for a good week after Thanksgiving. The food and prep all went great, better than he expected, but the image of tahyo transposed everything, and not in as pleasant a way as he'd expected. He recalled Ribbon-legs and Anita, his human friend. How Duncan had greeted them so pleasantly, how Rebecca did, how even Jillette and Jerri-- who were both reclusive in their own ways-- had greeted them as if they were old friends.

Though Mordekai didn't resent their company-- far from it-- he felt strange, even after greeting himself and learning their names. Even if they met at the garden party, there was no chance that Duncan and Rebecca (Christ, was she there, too?) would have taken to them so immediately, so warmly, and Mordekai found no chance to ask anyone his question: Were they from anywhere else? You were gone for five months. Maybe.

Mordekai thought over their farewell again and again-- Take care of yourself, Anita said. You too, he said, without giving it another thought. She was glancing over at him, not Duncan. Not Duncan.

The blonde managed to retrieved a phone list of Lab 305 participants from the living room that Duncan had left on the table, for easy keeping. The list wasn't as long as he'd expected, but parsing through all of the letters and numbers so tightly knit were difficult. He was able to find Anita's name, though, and quickly rummaged through his pockets for his cellphone. He flipped it open and clumsily pressed at his keys, looking between the paper every few seconds to see if it was right, to see if he actually wanted to go through with this. Did he?

It's an innocent question. Was it?

Without thinking further, Mordekai closed his eyes as he pressed the call button and held the phone next to his ear: What if she didn't pick up? What would he do then?

.  

[Rookeries]

.

Duncan makes haste in returning home to check up on Mordekai, and Anita is made to wait.

▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪


When Duncan pulled up to the front lot of his home, no one was there, and the door had been kicked open. Duncan managed to park the car nearby the sidewalk and made his way towards the open threshold, unable to care if he stepped on any splinters that lay on the porch. Had they already taken him away?

"Mordekai?" Duncan asked, his voice amplified enough to echo through the lonely house. He checked around the bend of the wall towards the kitchen, then back to the living area, the front, the stairs-- nothing.

Tentatively at first, Duncan paced up the stairs, his eyes surveying the area for some trace of life, but there was nothing. Upon reaching the hallway, he loomed, then stared between the three doors, all closed save for one-- Mordekai's room. The only thing Duncan could see from his vantage point as a cluttered table and window. Heart racing, he quietly gripped the phone in his pocket and inched to the room, knuckles pale with dread.

Upon reaching the room, he looked cautiously to the side, where Mordekai's bed was. No one. When he transitioned his gaze down, though, he noticed the familiar sight of a man lying on the floor to his side, his face and front turned away from the door.

Hesitantly, Duncan pulled out his phone and rang up Anita. He knelt toward Mordekai-- the man was dead still. He had to check his pulse, look at his face, something-- but Duncan couldn't find himself being able to do so.

"No... no, no..."

.  

[Rookeries]

.

A week after their phone-call gone sour, Mordekai reluctantly calls Anita to invite her for New Years on Duncan's behalf at a brutally early hour.

▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪


Duncan and Mordekai had talked about it in passing for the past week or so, about talking to Anita again, but Mordekai remained apprehensive about the idea at first. He was gravely worried that any contact from him again would greatly haunt Anita-- make her despise him more than she probably did already. In the end, though, Mordekai had agreed in his tired haze to call the girl and be done with it, for the gratification of knowing Duncan would feel more at ease. He repeatedly reminded himself that he had to send invitations out for New Years, anyways: that in itself was a difficult task, and another person wouldn't levy the difficulty too much, past histories aside.

He managed to wrangle most of the invitations through after work on Saturday, but Anita still remained. He managed to catch a few hours of sleep in later at midnight, after he drank beer in silence and dozed off to drowsiness. When he woke, he was still in his clothes while hunched over the dining table-- he felt somewhat nauseated. Mordekai nevertheless took out the phone and stared at the first accidental recipient on his contacts list: Anita & Cruz, clicked through to the text screen, and went on his business. It was better now than later.

He didn't know what to say, though.


From: Mordekai Kantor
Hello ?
Received: Sun Dec 15, 6:17AM

.  

[Rookeries]

.

For Jeremy: Small tea set, tea blend set, pomegranate juice

Kahadlok was difficult for anyone. Despite the messiness of the situation, Duncan felt that he at least owed an apology and more thanks to Jeremy, who headed the search and rescue for his friend. He'd chided him during the height of the excursion without realizing what Jeremy was doing, and it was wrong of him.

There was a small tea and coffee store in Durem in a small district near the farm store. Mordekai and Duncan managed to drop by just after work just before they closed, and Duncan found a particularly charming tea set and blend for sale that he picked up immediately. After making his satisfying purchase, he looked back toward the tea assortments to find Mordekai rifling through the tea sets with childlike curiosity.

"I dunno how to pronounce half these names. Are these even real? Did they make these up?"

"Mordekai, we have most of these blends back home."


For Zeke and Anya: Green and purple candy canes, absinthe, sour apple green scarf, lavender scarf

“...Absinthe?”

“I mean, the cup an' spoon are gonna be hand-me-downs, technically, 'cause they're Annie's, but the absinthe's gonna be new.”

“And all of their other items happen to be green and purple.”

Mordekai smiled.

“You're... fixating on his hair color an awful lot, Mordekai. There's no way to gauge if Zeke even drinks or not—”

“That's why we got 'em candy canes and scarves, per your suggestion. Am I haulin' our asses back home or do I gotta go back into the store an' get a refund on this bottle?”

Duncan stared at Mordekai as he held a case of absinthe in his hands like he was advertising for a poster he reckoned rang familiar at the liquor store. The older man brushed a hand through his hair and stared outside the car, at the entrance of the market, sat back against his chair, and shook his head.

“I mean, if he doesn't drink, I can drink it myself, too,” Mordekai began contemplating.

“No.”


For Anita and Cruz: giant crocodile plush, firecracker poppers, moss green scarf, deep red scarf

Mordekai waved his hands in front of a computer screen and stared wide-mouthed at Duncan. He wasn't a fast typer, typically, nor was he the best speller, but he managed to eke out the words with such practiced fervor that Duncan was almost worried. Once the result showed up on-screen, Duncan glanced at Mordekai with quiet indignation, though he couldn't help the gradually growing smile on his features.

“Okay, no, this one's so ********' simple, alright. Look! Look. It's perfect.”

“Mordekai, this one gift alone is 125--”

"Look!"

“We still have to consider presents for one other person... how are we going to carry this all the way to the lab?”

“We gotta wheelbarrow.”

“A wheelbarrow,” Duncan began, “Yes, that's very inconspicuous--”

“It's not, though! Like him! Tell me it ain't perfect.”

After a moment of consideration and a tiny sigh, Duncan agreed that Mordekai would cover half the price.


For Rivener (Secret Santa): Holiday coffee blends, peppermint candy canes, a Bruce Lee pack, Dirty Harry, Die Hard, and Rambo

The Secret Santa hint that Duncan had received greatly perplexed him. The other four were taken care of relatively steadily, and he at least managed to find a holiday coffee blend while searching for Jeremy's present, but nothing else around the stores stood out to Duncan as particularly badass. He wasn't even sure if offering coffee and candy to a Raevan was a good idea, but their digestive processes still remained a relative mystery to him.

He stared at the box full of coffee blend and peppermint candy canes and stared at a small empty nook to the side of it. Duncan frowned and tried to arrange the items in a way that made it seem more full, stopping only when Mordekai poked his head over the side of his shoulder and plunked down DVD boxes.

"What are these?"

"If this punk thinks he's a badass, I reckon he should learn from the masters."

They stayed in the box because they fit quite well.

.  

[Rookeries]

.

Duncan arrives a tad late to Lab's Christmas function, but with gifts in tow.

▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪


Everything pulled together nicely. That was good! But Duncan was late. He was very, very late (in reality, it was only by a scant few minutes) because he had forgotten completely to bring his Secret Santa gift. Good. He hoped dearly that his Secret Santa would enjoy his present, as the scarlet box proved cumbersome around his arms, as did the three other gifts that he resorted to rolling around in a rickety barrow. One was particularly large-- just over six feet-- and was wrapped untidily in bright green wrap and white tinsel; one was perfectly boxed in a deep red wrapping and chartreuse ribbon; and the final box, smaller than the rest, was white with navy ribbon.

It was mostly for the sake of sending these gifts off to their respective recipients and to help with the events that Duncan came to the Christmas party, despite Mordekai's stern reprimanding to do just the contrary and avoid the Lab function entirely. Still, if he could provide any assistance to Jeremy and Zeke to contribute to the Lab, he would. He had a responsibility even moreso now, with a new Raevan coming into bloom.

Thankfully, the amount of people that had arrived so far wasn't so cumbersome, which allowed Duncan to grin brightly upon walking through the lobby. His first place of business, though, was the giant Christmas tree, which he knelt down in front of and began hanging a few baubles onto. He took off his flatcap, grabbed a few paper stars, and took out an individual pen from his jacket pocket.

Before walking around with his makeshift paper star assortment, he paused to write one for himself and Mordekai: A good year and warm company.

Upon glancing up, he noticed that Jeremy was standing nearby to announce the Christmas festivities. He stood up and tidied his navy sweatervest before walking up to the man, beaming with hat in hand.

"Jeremy! Happy holidays," he offered a hand for a shake, then motioned towards the hat in his hands, "Be sure to write a wish for yourself. You deserve the luck."

.  

[Rookeries]

.

Zeke offers Mr. Harrison Troxel and Duncan a chance to look at their Raevans to be.

▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪


Duncan hadn't gotten much done in the way of distributing his gifts to his recipients when Zeke and Trox found him. Once Zeke caught his attention, however, Duncan nodded in his direction and quickly eased out of the group he was in to fully address Zeke, with his wheelbarrow of presents pulled along with one hand. He smiled wide and nodded towards Zeke enthusiastically.

"Hello, Zeke! Merry Christmas. I've been fantastic-- what about you?" Duncan followed along Zeke's trail and, like Trox, managed to drop his wheelbarrow off at Mordekai's foot-- it completely passed him by that Trox managed to do the same by depositing his helmet bag next to Camille. He stood as Troxel gave him a once-over.

Duncan smiled brightly at Troxel and extended an arm for a handshake in greeting, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Troxel. Merry Christmas," he looked back at Zeke and chuckled, "Ah! What a coincidence, then."

.