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"Uncle Hux, Tuffy wants to go for a walk. To the park."

Huxtable's slate grey eyes cracked open at the sound of his nephew's sudden proclamation. The thirty two year old groaned as he shifted position on the family's couch. It was, of course, much too small for his long frame; but it was better than the alternative, which was the floor. The last time he'd opened his eyes, having been shifting in and out of sleep all morning, Atticus had been sitting- silent- in front of the television, watching some sort of documentary as he shoveled spoonful after spoonful of plain-colored cereal into his mouth. Now, the child was standing directly over Hux, a leash in one hand and the puffball he called Tuffy tearing at one socked foot.

Hux frowned at the eight year old, then glanced at the numbers blinking on the DVD player.

9:01 A.M.

"Do I have to?"

Atticus stamped his foot, and pouted out his lower lip; a sure sign that a tantrum would follow, should he not get his way.

Hux thought about the shots he'd done the night before. He thought about the ache in his head, a sure sign that he was- indeed- hungover. He thought about the shrieking fight that would ensue, should Atticus not be taken to the park immediately. In the few seconds it took for Atticus to gather his energy, Hux made up his mind.

"Fine." He said. "We'll go to the park. Are your sisters up? Go get them. Don't wake up Mar- don't wake up your mum. She's resting. Hurry up, then. Grab the kick ball."

***

At 9:47 A.M., Huxtable found himself with his a** parked on a bench; gnawing on a bit of beef jerky as he surveyed the children at play. It was a nice enough day out, with the sun giving off a happy orange color in the distance and a cool breeze blowing through the quaint neighborhood every once in a while. Hux could see, quite obviously, what had attracted Margaery to the suburbs of Ashdown. The people that passed were friendly at their best and passively polite at their worst, she was within walking distance from both the park, the elementary school, and the nearest Whole Foods... as always, Margaery had done her research before making the decision to move.

Then, Hux thought about the man whose hands turned to claws... he thought about the nurse, one minute- alive, helping... the next, dead- eyes wide, lips parted. Dead.

Did Margaery know about that part of Ashdown? The part that spoke of wargs and were and powers? Huxtable huffed, suddenly frustrated with the memories he seemingly couldn't stop himself from reliving over and over. He rolled his shoulders and tried to relax his tense muscles. To no avail, of course.

He hadn't left the house since he'd returned from that day at the job fair. He was a mess. His hair was in a haphazard, hastily gathered bun; obviously tangled, though still- curiously- glossy despite him having not showered in some time either. He wore a pair of form-fitting jeans he'd cut at the knee, and a plain white shirt that was worn and fraying at the edges. His beard needed a trim and there were dark, bruise-like circles under his eyes from fitful sleep. If it weren't for his occasional interaction with his nieces and nephew, people would probably be worried about seeing such a giant man in the park. Instead, they begrudgingly accepted his presence and gossiped only briefly.

Hux sighed to himself, allowing his gaze to drift to the nicely-shaped a** of a jogger. At least he could still appreciate the little things, even with his most recent mental trauma still clawing at the back of his mind.

Had he been caught ogling, or was the sudden appearance of the jogger whose butt he'd been checking out only moments before nothing but a coincidence?

Either way, Hux reacted fluidly; giving the freckled twenty something year old a welcoming grin. "I don't mind at all." He said. Then, without missing a beat, he nodded to the lunch box at the opposite end of the bench. "There's a couple cold water bottles in there, if you'd like one of 'em. The tiny kind, ya know, for the kids. They're more or less akin to camels when it comes to retaining water, though, I doubt they'll even realize one or two are missing."

This person was... interesting. More interesting than anyone else he'd met in Ashdown so far, that is. With the exception of his most recent traumatic experience that he was trying ever so desperately to block out. Straight-forward, irresponsible, brash... clearly, this was someone that could keep his attention for more than a few moments. Also, he liked being complimented.

"You can start by calling me Hux. And don't worry about cussing, at least not around the ones here with me... their mum swears like a damn sailor. I try not to but-" he shrugged. "They'll just make bank off of the swear jar. That's all it is to them. I believe we came here, specifically, to catch the 11 A.M. route of the ice cream truck- paid for by my drunken slurs from last night that little Desi over there was kind enough to keep tally for despite the fact that she was supposed to be asleep." Hux huffed and rolled his eyes, throwing the other a lazy grin. "What should I call you?"

"Alexis, no nicknames. Got it." He tried to keep a straight face as he said it, but it was physically impossible for him to stop smiling so instead he just adjusted his mane, momentarily breaking eye contact to do so. "Hopefully they'll be willing to spare their ol' Uncle Hux a few dollars so he can afford to buy himself and his attractive new friend their own frosty treats, huh?"

He reached into the small convenience store bag he had sitting on his lap, brandishing a good-sized piece of jerky. "You eat meat?" He hated offering meaty snacks to people that might not be at all interested, but he also hated eating things and not offering. It was a bit of a catch twenty-two.

Hux nodded in response to the younger person's proclamation, chewing on his own hunk as he surveyed the park. Atticus and Desdemona were kicking the ball back and forth, giggling wildly each time they connected with the reddish-colored rubber. Keighley was on the swings, singing to herself as she pumped her legs out and in, out and in. All three of them resembled Hux, with their dark waves of hair and lightly tanned skin. Keighley had inherited his height and towered over most of the other ten year olds in her class. Desdemona had inherited his charm, and was easily the most manipulative of the three- despite being the youngest. Atticus and Hux had the least in common, but they got along nonetheless. He loved all three of them. He, too, could see a bit of their mother in the way they moved and talked.

He tried not to think about how they would be all that was left of her, should she lose her fight. He tried not to think about what it would mean, if he were their only remaining relative able to care for them.

Instead, he focused his attention back on Alexis. "So, have you lived her long? Do you like it?" Have you seen any people change into grotesque, violent monsters recently? He left that last bit out, still too hesitant to bring up the topic with anyone other than Margaery.

Hux arched a brow at the youth, his own eye contact fairly steady in comparison to their's. "Few months, huh? I've been here for about one."

Once again, he glanced at the three children. "Definitely not mine. I'm too irresponsible to father my own brood." He laughed, shoved some hair out of his face. "Nah, they're my sister's. I'm staying on her couch for the time being, helping around the house." He huffed and slouched down into the bench some. "I need a job, too." He said, dejectedly. "I haven't had one in years."

"Eh, I'm sure you'll find somewhere that'll hire you. There's a lot of ma and pa places here that probably don't give too much of a s**t about your background so long as you can prove you work well." Hux straightened out his long legs, resting them across the sidewalk in front of them. The boots he wore were faded and brown, one heel tapped a lazy beat against the cement. "You could always look into trying to get a scholarship at the college. If you come from a shitty enough background they'll practically shove money down your throat, and you can use it for living expenses if you're frugal enough. S'how I got my way through, anyway."

He handed Alexis another slab of jerky, smirking at the touch of their arm to his shoulders. "Yeah, their dad is a piece of s**t so me and Mar were pretty happy to see they look nothing like him. He was this pale, wisp of a dude. I guess our genes were just dominant, thank ********, he watched the kids; mindlessly chewing at his own thick slice of dried beef. "It'd be nice to be their age again."

"You seem pretty alright to me, then again you're probably not trying to flirt when it comes to interviewin' time." He paused, chuckled. "Maybe you should." He squinted at their pale, youthful face. "How old are you, by the way?" He took note of the bags beneath their eyes, the soft frown and furrowed brows that seemed to be their resting expression. He wasn't usually too interested in partners younger than about twenty-five or so, but something about Alexis had him hooked... or at least, willing to give them more of a chance than he would some other bouncy twenty year old whose mind was still stuck in their teenage years.

Plus, it'd been a while since he'd been approached so blatantly. Perhaps he was even... thrilled... by the attention of someone so obviously younger? He was enjoying the sudden and unexpected fuel to his ego, to say the least.