It was a beautiful Tuesday in Manston. The earth was still damp from the spring rain showers that had fallen during the past few days, but the sun's rays warmed the hearts and lifted the spirits of all who basked in it. In the town itself, townspeople were smiling at their neighbors and chatting pleasantly as they went about their morning commutes and daily errands. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the day; no evil kings, celestial bears, or insane gods were wreaking havoc, and five of Manston's six heroines were reveling in the simple joy of not having to save hundreds of lives.
The sixth was trying to stamp out a fire that had suddenly appeared in her flowerbed---the fourth fire since breakfast---while trying to convince her beloved pet rabbit that their guest didn't mean to cause her front yard to burst into flames.
"Now, Angel," she chided as the rabbit stomped in disbelief, "It's not nice to treat our guests so rudely. We have to be patient with him." The young woman scooped the snowy white bunny in her arms and brushed a light pink strand of hair out of her eyes. She turned back to her cottage, which had been enchanted by her guest to look like a castle straight from an old black-and-white horror movie. A sigh escaped her lips, and she nuzzled against Angel's fur. "Soon, we'll be able to go on with our lives," she murmured softly to him, "But we have to treat him kindly and teach him that he has a place in the world other than as a criminal."
Her grip on the rabbit tightened slightly as a male voice screeched from her house, "GRAAAACIE-GRAAAACE, I MADE YOU ANOTHER MASTERPIECE!"
A wave of dread washed over Gracie as she remembered the last 'masterpiece' the ex-con had made her, and she mumbled a quick prayer that when she opened the door she wouldn't find all of her animal friends hanging from the ceiling as a 'chandelier' again.
She had barely touched the doorknob when it swung open wildly, seemingly of its own accord. Gracie took a few tentative steps inside and exhaled in relief when she looked up and saw that her ceiling was devoid of any upside-down critters.
"Gracie-Grace! Gray-Gray!" The woman's relief was short-lived as she was surrounded by a sudden flash of bright light and found herself standing in her bedroom instead of in her front doorway. She was stunned for a quick moment, but a light tap on her shoulder shocked her back into reality. The man behind her grinned widely and turned her to face him, although their proximity was so close that she was really facing his patchwork tie. "Happy birthday," he shouted in her ear, shoving a colorful glass-like object at her face.
Gracie gently set Angel down on her bed and gingerly handled the object. It looked exactly like a tiny porcelain version of Seth, but one hand was holding up a lightbulb. She studied the figure carefully for another minute, then turned to the creator, still confused. "Is this supposed to be a lamp?"
"Yes! And don't tell me you don't need one, because I think this one'll be a lovely replacement for the boring old pink lamp that you used to have on your bedside table!"
Gracie opened her mouth to remind him that she still had the 'boring old pink lamp', but then snapped it shut once she realized that it was actually missing. It had been there the last time she had been in her room, but there was no question as to who was responsible for its sudden disappearance. Her eyes narrowed in a stern glare, and darted at her houseguest. "Seth Entropy," she began, not raising her voice at all but nonetheless sending off vibes of passive-agressive tension, "What did you do to my lamp?"
"It doesn't matter, my cray-cray Gray-Gray."
He waved his hand, dismissing the topic, and put his arm around her shoulders. She countered his move and turned to look him dead in the eye. "Now Seth, do you remember what we learned last Thursday after the chandelier incident?"
Seth grumbled under his breath. Of course he remembered. He wasn't ignorant about the 'rules of civil society' that Gray-Gray and Princess Sunburn always grilled him about, he just ignored them. There was a fine line between being stupid and actively opposing all common sense, and Seth was firmly in the latter camp.
Gracie cleared her throat and intensified her glare. "What. Did. We. Learn." It wasn't a question; it was a command, an order to verbally relay back to her one of the dozens of rules she'd had to teach him about adapting to civil society. She knew he was far from stupid, but she also knew how obstinate he was whenever the rules he'd learned were enforced. No matter how kind and patient she was with him, he'd always struggle against her authority. She'd accepted long ago that it was simply because his years of criminal activity and imprisonment in solitary confinement had conditioned him to defy all authority, but she was still set on reforming him, no matter how challenging it was.
Their eyes remained locked and unblinking, engaged in a battle of willpower. After a two-minute-long eternity, Seth finally blinked and answered, "Civil people don't replace other people's light fixtures with gravity-defying woodland critters without asking permission."
Her aqua eyes relaxed their steely grip on him, and the tension in the air disappeared.
