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There were some people you never wanted showing up at your door.

Dr. Beatrix Darnell rapped sharply at the house-front and once again thought about leaving; even if knocking and running away was fairly juvenile. She hadn't called ahead: Jack had no idea that she was probably on the same continent, let alone the same general regional voting area and under the same proviso with the same water council. There was some French phrase - better to be forgiven than to ask permission - and Thwomp curled out of her scarf and grazed against her neck insistently, making her fumble and reach into her pocket for a sweet. Once her familiar was busy trying to masticate a Minty with no teeth, very little hope and much enjoyment, it was already probably too late.

Jack was cohabiting, too. The illegal, immoral and typically easiest way that she had found him had read more than the usual amount of body signatures (and a whole lot of smaller signatures, which she could only interpret as Jack having mice). The area - through Thwomp's eyes, magical echoes - could tell her nothing about it, not shabby, not genteel, nothing. Very average. Very normal. Very Jack, come to think of it.

She raised her hand to knock again. Probably one of Jack's disreputable girlfriends would be there. So long as it wasn't one of his twentysomething goths, because any goth would give her the urge to write to Rebecca, which just made her sad.

The blonde on the other side would have blinked at him, except her eyes were bandaged; she looked more like some kind of lawyer than a solicitor, hair carefully scraped into a french knot and not one wrinkle in her stockings. It wasn't really a true appearance that her familiar translated Shade to in her eyes: but Beatrix knew enough.

Jack was gay and he had picked up a disreputable boyfriend. Why did he have to go through his experiental mid-life crisis now? It was obviously because she hadn't been along, and now he had picked up this. And she would have to be tolerant. Well. Mildly tolerant.

"Where's Jack?" And the place would probably be a mess, at least Jack's girlfriends picked up after him but two men together probably swept everything under the rug. "If you like, you can go and put on a proper shirt, I didn't mean to catch you unawares." (Thwomp told her that the man hadn't shaved, and that his hair was a funny colour. Either a magical boyfriend or a punk boyfriend.) Oh, God, Jack was probably naked too. "Is yo - is Jack Bierce in?"

The call had been needless; if there was one thing a Dexter knew at all times was the flow of magic around their living space. The moment Beatrix had walked up the path, every supernatural bell had gone off in the English magician's head. The bells were louder because, holy hell, it was Bea.

Jack was suddenly standing behind Shade, brown eyes wide as he stared over his flatemate's shoulder. Reaching up with one hand, he scraped fingers through his hair, standing it further on end and adding a few bits of chalk dust to the brown strands. Only moments ago, it had been him, a 200 year old book, and his virgin's chalk. Now he was facing something akin to magical Apocalypse... Nonetheless, he suddenly laughed, smiled, and nudged Shade out of the way as he reached forward to pull the woman into a tight hug - never mind his own dubious wardrobe of jeans and half-opened button-down shirt. "Shite," he muttered. "Bea, it's been ages."

Jack held out a hand. "Thwomp, here," he ordered with a laugh and, amazingly, the familiar floated over to rest above his hand. To Shade's surprise, Jack's voice sounded deeper and, as he continued, the grammar was impeccable Oxford tones. "I'm warning you right now that there are little ones flying around here and you're not to eat them. Got that? Even if they try to order you about."

As if on cue, one of the "flying things" appeared from around the corner. "Jack! Evie wants to know if..." Brunswick skidded to a halt in midair, eyes flicking between Jack and Shade and Thwomp and Bea. "Oh, hell. Not more roommates!"

For a moment Beatrix had the terrible thought that not only were Jack and Shade lovers, but committed lovers with children together, until Thwomp confirmed that the voices were very tiny. More magical creatures. He obviously could not bear the temptation, as he whizzed away from Jack's hand to hover a little bit near Brunswick. He was about half as big and twice as wide, but that was what happened when you were a living, moving lump of stone.

"Pardon?" said Beatrix, absolutely distracted. "What - a kid? - I mean, that was the eventual understanding but - you both don't have one too, do you? A cabbage, I mean?" (Maybe they were really committed. Jack's father was going to have a heart attack. At least this man could speak English with some semblance of grammar and understanding.)

"Never seen the book in my life, I swear," Shade said as he followed Jack into the house. "Ah, sorry if the place is a bit of a mess. Bachelors like us don't tend to do very good at house keeping."

"Which is why we should hire a maid," Antony said quietly as he approached them before giving the newcomer a smile. "I came from a cabbage. Do you have one?"

Jack shot Shade an amused look that was clearly translated as "Yep, she does this all the time." Then he cleared the table at Bea's elbow so she could sit the cabbage down. "This is Bea, Shade," he explained. "Old family friend. Bea, this is my flatmate and his kid Antony. You still drink your tea sweet an' light? Shade, you want something? I'll bring Evie out, too."

"You have very good manners," said Beatrix; this was obviously high praise from her. Obviously the poor child was stuck around two men who never ever got dressed properly. Thwomp, entirely bored with the cabbage, went to go and 'supervise' Jack. "Two sugars, Jack; and I don't suppose you have one of these cabbages? Or did you decide to stop with a menagerie of fairies - Antony, was it? Mr. Antony, please sit down if you care to."