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A stray drop of rain snuffed out the cigarette butt before he had a chance to step on it. The last ember went out, dying next to its partner with a final gasp of weak smoke. Today would be his first full day with the in-law (so to speak), and whatever it was that Lys had wanted to ask him about that she couldn’t do over the phone. He was already chewing a wad of gum to try and mask the stink for all the good it would do. From the outside it all looked peaceful; someone was listening to music, but he couldn’t tell what. All the exaggerated sighs and staring couldn’t open the door for him, and he was already wet enough. If he waited any longer, he was going to indulge himself in another smoke.

A fast twist of the knob, so he couldn’t think better of it, and they didn’t have time to hide the drugs and bodies. The hinges squeaked with a push, and he stepped into Lakeside, asking him to come on a “Fantastic Voyage” of all things. It wasn’t that he didn’t like funk, but it wasn’t his first choice in music. The inside looked in order; something smelled wonderful.

“Emerald, your man is home.”

Jack looked over. Ixby was sitting on the couch gazing into her phone. She didn’t even do him the courtesy of looking up, comfortable as could be, like she paid the rent.

“What?” a voice called from the kitchen, nearly drowned out by the sound.

“Alexa, turn it down by three,” he said. A tiny shower of collected raindrops fell off his jacket, shaken away with a bit more vigor than needed, and then he put it away in the closet. Ixby tore herself from her phone to smile at him. Her big, orange eyes looked him over calmly; her tail shifted left to right, making small wrinkles in his couch.

“She’s been putting on a show. Did you teach her all of that?” Ixby asked.

“What?” His eyes narrowed.

“To cook, of course, must be nice.”

The work boot felt pleasant in his hand for some reason: weighty. “She learned most of it on her own. I just helped when needed. I guess she didn’t have anyone around to teach her until now.” He let it fall to the ground with a hollow thud.

The growing smile on her face faded just as fast, and she went back to her phone. The smell of oregano, garlic, and a few other things he couldn’t quite name mingled together into a fusion of hunger pangs in his gut. Wisps of steam rose from a pot on the stove while Lys fretted back and forth looking every bit a green, scaly housewife.

“What did you say mo—Jack!” She jumped down off the step stool and rushed over, her tail wagging like an excited puppy. “How was work?”

"Hi, Sweet. Like you need to ask, it was work.”

“I like asking. It feels right.” She looked up at him expectantly, but he stood unmoving, except for the corner of his mouth curling up.

“Don’t make me come up there.”

He knelt down for a kiss on the lips, and then she slipped the tip of her tongue in, tickling the inside of his mouth. “Mmm. Missed me that much?” Her breath flushed across his face; they stared, muzzle-to-nose. “Smells great.”

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” she whispered, kissing him one last time on the nose before turning back to the stove. “With homemade white sauce. I used the last of the milk.”

“You didn’t need to bother impressing me, Emerald,” a voice called from the living room.

Lys paused, tapping the wooden spoon rather hard against the pot.

Jack forced a smile, keeping his attention on the green kobold at the stove. “I’ll get some more when I remember.”

“If you remember.” Her muzzle wrinkled up and she turned back around, sniffing in his direction. “You’ve been smoking again. " The last word hit like a curse, the points of her teeth bared in a faint snarl. “Why?”

“You get any help with dinner?” He cast a sideways look towards the couch.

The quick tap of her tail against the step stool said Jack wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “I don’t need help with something like this. Besides—”

“Besides, I’d just poison it,” a voice called back from the couch.

“Mom!”

Jack tried to turn about to deliver some sort of riposte, but Lys was already down and over next to him with a claw at his leg. “And you stop too,” Lys said.

Jack squared up his jaw and cast an accusing glare towards the couch.

“Stop,” she hissed at him. “I would really like it if you two could not act like hatchlings.”

“Tell her that.”

“I did before you even got home, and I just did again, so now I’m telling you. Go change, get a shower, and wash the stink out.”

“You can join me for the shower, you know,” he said a bit too loudly and rather pointed towards the couch. “In fact, we could skip dinner and go for dessert.”

She winced at the come-on. “That one is older than the two of us together.”

“You didn’t say no, though.” He kissed her again, getting a giggle out of her. It might have been his imagination or the music, but he swore he heard a throaty chitter among the noise, and he smiled. He felt a tiny swat at his leg as Lys went back to the stove. She went a little less quick now, and her eyeridges looked a bit more pressed, as if dinner had become a pressure instead of a pleasure. A quiet sigh passed his lips, and he wanted to shake his head.

“Alexa, play ‘Good to Your Earhole’," the blue kobold said.

He fought the urge to tell it to play polka as he stepped into the bedroom. The top drawer opened with a squeak and he pushed aside a stack of Fruit of the Looms. The gun was still there, buried another another pile of underwear, joined by his pack of Camel Wides. He swore once again that he’d quit once things quieted down and gave the pistol a frown before he grabbed up a fresh pair and a change of clothes, spitting out the wad of useless gum on his way.

Steady streams of hot water pelted his face, but it didn’t wash everything out. Her sitting there listening to music like the whole thing had been a misunderstanding. He’d completely forgotten about whatever it was Lys wanted to talk about the moment he walked in and a small pit formed in his stomach. It was never good when something still lingered at the end of the day, one last shoe to drop. Actually, there were a lot of shoes left to drop, and Ixby was lucky she hadn’t caught one. His brain was still processing how he’d gone from being held up to having her as a houseguest—that someone out there had been watching and led her right to his doorstep. Either way, she wasn’t going to be staying here indefinitely, Christmas at the most; he still had to prepare himself for that.

But that stirred up the guilt; he didn’t like her, but pushing Lys’s mother away still made him feel like crap. Striding forward and laying down the law like he was making her choose would end badly. He was her mate, not her master, and it’d been, however long since they’d seen each other. Thanksgiving was creeping up fast, so there might still be time to do some family bonding, if that blue beast could ever be family. He made a mental note to pick up a turkey and the usual stuff. Lys would enjoy preparing that. His used towel dangled next to the bright red one, Lys’s. Ixby needed a shower too; she stank of more than just cigarettes.

Stevie Wonder was explaining that superstition wasn’t the way right as he stepped back out into the living room; dinner smelled better than ever. Lys was handling a tray with oversized mitts awkwardly clutched over her claws; all she needed now was an apron to complete the look.

“Sorry, the garlic toast came out a little burnt.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Sweet.”

“Didn’t need to…” Ixby muttered from the couch.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I said—“

“Dinner is ready and turn off that noise,” Lys said. “Go on, sit down.” She gestured towards them both, the table looked about as close to a Rockwell painting as Jack was ever likely to get, if Norman painted kobolds anyway.

“Alexa, stop,” Jack said. The last thing he wanted to do was spoil it for her. He plucked a Dr.Pepper from the fridge since they were fresh out of wine for the occasion, not that he’d ever touched the stuff. Ixby was there on the far end, pulling out her chair. For all her nitpicking she looked relaxed. Lys on the other hand had a growing nervousness around her, even while she cooked and enjoying playing the hostess. He knew her eyes were darting back and forth, making sure everyone was where they needed to be. If Ixby worried at all, she did a great job of hiding it. She eyed the plate and utensils in front of her for a moment before looking back towards her daughter who was still in the kitchen finishing up, she looked ready to comment, but her eyes wandered in Jack’s direction and it remained a mystery.

“Sure you want to eat it? I bought all the ingredients, and she obviously cooked it for me, so it might as well be me feeding you.”

“That might be, but you didn’t have time to slip anything into the food.”

“Why do I feel like a mother minding after hatchlings?” Lys interjected. Her scaly green claws placed the dinner pot onto the table, and then she climbed up from the chair. It’d become a normal scene for him whenever she wanted to serve something at the table (which was as often as she could force Jack to sit there), and it was the only way to make sure there were no accidents since she insisted on doing it herself. She set it down in the center; the pot made a muffled bang against the table, and she looked at the both of them before stepping off into her seat. “Now, before we begin I’d like to ask you both to knock it off.”

He laughed. “I half expected you to ask us to say grace.”

Lys cocked her head.

“Ehh, forget it. You’ll find out soon enough when we go to my folks…if they let us in the front door.” He grinned at her.

Lys’s tail thumped in the space in her chair. “That isn’t funny at all. I’m already worried enough about that and…well, it doesn’t matter right now, but I don’t want anything or anyone spoiling dinner.” She stared at them both again for good measure before looking at the plate of pasta. “So, eat already.”

The kobold version of grace was good enough for him, and he was starving. Of course, he couldn’t dig in just yet; they may not have said a real grace, but there were other rituals conducted whenever they sat down at the table. Lys was already frowning at her plate, fork in hand. “I know you’re staring. I’m gonna bite you.” It came from a time when Lys’s table manners were less than polite, and she outright despised using eating utensils, but when you had a maw larger than the human mouth, rowed with needlepoint teeth, the idea of using some dinky little tool seemed redundant. Jack had to stop her from grabbing things off her plate and simply shoving them into her mouth more than once.

She opened her maw in a toothy grin, feeling his eyes on her. “I will.”

“You won’t,” he said.

Lys said nothing else and started digging in, getting a laugh out of him. He saw Ixby out of the corner of his eye, fork in claw, eyes narrowed, watching the two of them. “Something wrong with the food?” he asked, looking in her direction.

“No,” she said.

“Good.”

Lys’s yellow eyes darted in his direction, firing the warning shot, but he kept smiling, reveling in the blue kobold’s disgust for their lover’s games. Now a single, yellow eye kept peering at him between bites like he might do something naughty. The fettuccine seemed particularly al dente now. “It’s very good, Sweet.”

“Thank you.”

Ixby nodded. “Yes, very good Emerald. Now I know why he keeps you around.”

“I keep her around because I love her,” Jack said.

“I don’t think you get jokes, smoothie. You sure you wouldn’t rather take a bite out of my hide? You seem to be out for my blood.”

“Sure. Lys, go get me the steak knife.”

“This is supposed to be a family dinner.” Now she’d gone and said it out loud. Jack and Ixby traded glances, a bond forged in guilt formed, but it faded away with the slow return to their meal. He had no idea how to read her and no way to know if she’d really been joking, but he could read Lys, and the happy housewife facade had chipped away into a nervous, little kobold. She kept looking at the two of them, and he could hear her tail working, thumping the back of the chair in an unsteady rhythm. If this were any kind of rehearsal for Thanksgiving, then Ixby would be the kind of in-law you send a text to once every year and say you stayed in touch.

“So, how long are you intending to stay? Now that you’re not kidnapping your daughter.” Jack said before purposefully eating another mouthful of pasta. It gave Ixby time to respond while he looked casual, or so he hoped.

“When did you want me gone?” she asked, her mouth full. Lys’s tail stopped; she perked up at the question with a frown.

“Lys and I are going back to meet my parents and spend the week for Christmas. So…”

“Why can’t we all go?” Lys asked.

Jack’s fork hovered between the plate and his mouth. Ixby leaned over to stare at her daughter with a half-bitten piece of toast in her claws, and Lys shrunk back into her chair, but she regained her resolve with a sudden glare at the two of them. “Isn’t that what this is all about? Families getting together?” She pointed her muzzle downward so Jack couldn’t help but stare into those big, yellow eyes of hers. Ixby turned her attention back to the food, or rather, the plate.

He’d expected some drama at the dinner table, but not this. Now that green tail flicked back and forth with newfound vigor, waiting for him to say something, and he felt the sudden need for another smoke. “Sweet, that’s not practical.”

“Why not?”

“It’s going to be…” He cut himself off, putting his fork down. “You don’t show up to your parent’s house with the in-laws unannounced.”

“Announce it, then. Ask them.”

“You know how that will sound over the phone?”

“I know exactly how it’s going to sound because they have no idea what I am, so if you show up with two of us, it’ll make everything worse.” Her chair thunked with her angry tail. For reasons even he couldn’t figure out, he looked at Ixby, and she made the mistake of meeting his eyes at that exact moment. His lips twitched.

“Emerald, you don’t understand how humans handle these gatherings. You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go,” Ixby said.

If Lys had reared up any further, she’d have fallen out of her seat. “I suppose you know? And I did ask you, but you didn’t hear me because of that stupid music earlier. Were you ignoring me on purpose?”

“Sweet, you’re getting way too upset over this. I can’t just ask my parents if my girlfriend’s mother can come with us for Christmas. It would sound really weird.”

“I thought I was your mate.”

The terrible groan said everything he didn’t want to; there were no right answers anymore.

“Another thing you have to hide,” she added.

“It’s all going to come out at Christmas one way or another.” Now he was getting agitated.

“I don’t see why it’s such a problem to ask if one more person can come. If your family is going to have relatives over, then what’s one more? Is it because she isn’t with my father? He’s working a job in another state; you can tell them my mother will be alone for Christmas.”

"Emerald, I’m perfectly fine with being alone.”

"Well, I’m not!” She showed all her teeth, almost snarling as she said it. “What will one more of us do? If they turn me away, they’ll turn you away, and if they don't, then there’s no reason for them to turn you away either!”

“Don’t shout, Emerald.”

She growled and shook her head. Giving her horns a hard yank. “You know, you both get along great when you’re attacking me!”

“No one is—“ Jack started, but Lys spoke over him.

“I’m asking you to tell one extra lie for me, and I guess that’s one too many!” She leapt off her chair, knocking it over, and stormed off into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her for good measure. Jack fell back onto the chair, tossing his hand into the air like he was pleading with heaven for guidance before he began rubbing his eyes. Then came the awkward silence and the slow realization that the only other person in the room now was the in-law. He kept his hand over his face, making sure not to look at her, and when the temptation became too much, he stood up and started for the bedroom.

“Always such a hatchling when she doesn’t get her way.”

He paused. “You could be a little more compassionate.”

“She wants something that neither of us wants. Or can you actually see me there, at your parents' house?” Ixby watched him from the chair, still looking relaxed.

“Well, I.”

“Be honest.”

“No. It’d be a mess.” His lip began to curl. “Would you even be interested?”

She snorted. “Being stuck in a car with you two and making things even harder on my Emerald. That’s no way to be a good mother.”

He sat back down, nodding to himself. “Being a good mother is trying to insult me and belittle her when she wants us to act like a family?”

“She sees how a thing should be in her head, and then that’s that. It’s how she’s always been. We’re not family, Jack.” It felt odd to hear her use his name. “She’s enjoying having attention from someone and being cared for.” She pointed at the bedroom door. “Right now she’s wondering why you aren’t already in there coddling her.”

“I’ve had enough of you.”

“It’s true.”

He stood up and planted hands on the table, slowly forming them into fists. “Get out.”

Ixby slid out of her chair. “Not without my—“

“Yes, without it. You care a lot more about that gun than you do for your own daughter.”

She ran a claw over one of her horns and glared. “You have no idea. You don’t know anything about us and you don’t understand her.”

“Maybe not, but I understand your type. You’re willing to ruin her happiness if she doesn’t do what she’s told like a good girl.”

Her orange eyes shot wide. “I don’t care if she’s a ‘good girl,' only a strong one, smoothie. I didn’t raise my spawn to stay in the gutter anymore than I wanted them to be a plaything. You can’t be kind; we’ll come apart. How many hot meals and nights in a warm bed did you give her before she decided she was in love with you?”

Her words echoed off the back wall. Jack waited to see if the bedroom door would open, but the seconds passed in silence, and as they did, things made a bit more sense. Lys wasn’t the only nervous kobold at the table. He sat back down, slowly. “You really think I’m going to abandon her.”

“It always ends because we don’t belong together. I don’t want that for her, and she thinks you love her.”

“Because I do.”

She growled, shaking her head. “For now.”

“We’ve been together for a year now. You really think I’d be planning on taking her out to my folks for Christmas and alienating them forever if I weren't serious?”

“I don’t know what you think, smoothie. For all I know—“

“Jack, not smoothie, and have a seat.”

She stood her ground, keeping a claw on the table as if it were the only thing holding her in place. “First you say leave…”

“Sit.” He pointed at the chair.

Those orange eyes stayed trained on him, but she pulled the chair back out slowly. Her scaly rear lowered down. It made him want to smirk. “As I was saying, for all I know you get off on it. You’re a weird bunch, and any human who’s into kobolds is weirder than most. I don’t know if these parents of yours even exist.”

“Lys already talked to them.”

“Supposedly.”

He sighed. “I am not running a kobold trafficking scheme if that's what you're suggesting. I love her, and that’s it.”

Ixby looked about ready to retch, and he worried his own parents might react the same way.

“Help me get this stuff put away,” he said, standing up. Lys had gone to too much effort to waste dinner.

“First you say leave, then sit, and then you say get up. You really make no sense.”

“You’re right. I don’t. Now help me get the leftovers put up and then we’ll do the dishes.”

Ixby cocked her head, her maw dangling, trying to find the next thing to say. “What is it that you’re trying to prove smooth…Jack?”

“That I have enough patience to put up with my in-laws. Or am I going to have to explain to Lys that you ran off into the night all because I asked you to help me do some basic chores?”

The sound she made was throaty and hostile. Her tail slammed the back of her chair, but he managed not to smile. For once, he was pushing the attack, and she was completely off-guard. A moment later she regained her composure, adopting that rusted-over smug facade. He dumped all the leftovers back into the pot. “Here, I’ll—“

“No, I can do it,” Ixby said, climbing up onto the table. She grabbed up the half-full pot of pasta and lugged it to the fridge. “You want help. I’ll help. Go start the water.” All he saw was the tip of her tail vanishing behind the counter and the fridge door being pulled open. He couldn’t quite call it progress, but it was better than fighting. She was already darting past him as he stepped into the kitchen with the clattering sound of dishes being gathered behind him. Hot water started to fill the sink for what was sure to be the most awkward set of dishes he’d ever endured, aside from the time he broke his aunt’s favorite punch bowl.

She came back around the corner, arms loaded with plates and utensils. Her tail lashed behind her with every step. “I’ll wash, you rinse,” she said.

“You’re my guest.”

“Weren’t you fussing that I didn’t help with dinner?”

“I was giving you shit.”

The stepstool squealed once more, being dragged across the floor. She planted each foot like a queen getting ready to take her place upon a throne. “And? You think I’ve never washed dishes?” Clawed hands moved a stack into the sink, making a big enough splash to send some over the edge onto the floor. It wasn’t just what had been dirtied for dinner, but yesterday’s neglected pile too. Ixby began looking furiously around the sink.

“It’s over there.” Jack pointed at the scrub brush and sponge. He stepped off to the side and waited. She’d made up her mind, and there’d be no arguing; he knew that much about her already. He watched her seize them up, her tail still doing whips behind her. “Watch out for the knives.”

“I know what I’m—“

She’d slipped on the edge of the wet counter and almost went head-first into the water. His arm had come down around her chest, and he set her upright on the stool. She stood still, her expression emotionless while he drew his hand away. “You were saying? Maybe you’d like to slow it down?”

“Wouldn’t you rather get this done quickly so you could be with your mate?”

“You know, you both have a lot more in common than you think.” He turned his back on her and went to get some paper towels. “And I don’t see why you’re so angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

The wad of dry towels turned a darker shade the moment they touched the counter, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay, pensive then.” He tossed the wet wad across the kitchen, scoring a perfect shot into the trash.

She shook her head. “Humans and their humor.”

“Didn’t you say you’d poison my food?”

Bristles and sponge on stoneware came as the response. Her arms moved in circular fashion, scrubbing off plates and moving them over into his sink. Despite being quick to start, she was meticulous in making sure every dish was spotless, and when the brush failed, she used her claws. Everything got a second or third inspection before being passed over. Once a sizable amount piled up, he turned on the water and went to work. “So, where is Lys’s father if you don’t mind me asking?"

“I do mind. I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Estranged?”

“Es-what? You mean separated? No, now stop prying. I’m surprised you haven’t already asked Lys, you two being so close.”

He ran the knives through the rinse one by one. “I did ask her, but she didn’t even know where he was. Or did you forget that she’s been worried about her parents?”

“I didn’t forget.” She turned and glared at him, a plate sitting in her claws just above the water. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

She laughed loudly. “And you think all it takes is dinner and a pile of dirty dishes?” The tip of her tongue flicked out, and she went back to washing. “Just a bit of talking and we’ll be family?”

He snorted. “No, I think you’re right. I don’t think we’ll ever be family, but Lys is my family. It makes no difference to me if you’re part of that, but I won’t have you making her miserable.”

A growl rolled out of her muzzle, which had morphed into a snarl. She pushed another stack of dishes into the gray water. “I don’t like the way you say that. Are you hoping to push me away from my own spawn?”

“I know you don’t believe me, but I love Lys, and I want her to be happy, and she obviously loves her mother and wants her around. Why else would she want you to go for Christmas?”

“Because she’s needy.”

“So you think she’s weak?”

Ixby stopped; her hands were submerged. “No, she’s strong, she’s just forgotten what it is to…”

“Suffer? She needs to be miserable, or else she’s not a real kobold?”

“You just don’t understand her.”

“I think I have a good idea.”

“You know one part of her.”

Jack leaned up against the counter so he could look her in the eye. “I’m not pretending I know everything about her, but I know enough to know I love her and I’m willing to spend the rest of that time learning about her.”

Ixby looked up at him with a renewed smugness. “Are you sure? She wasn’t always timid. When she wants to be brave, she becomes a terror, and she’s manipulative; I don’t care what you say. She’s good at it.”

“So I’m a dupe, is that it?”

She shook her head. “No, she’s into you…unfortunately.”

“Thanks for admitting that.”

“Hmph!” Water went everywhere with the way her body jerked. “But she’s clever, a lot more than you know.”

“Fine, so let me know. Tell me something about her terrible past so I’ll cast her into the streets.”

Those orange eyes rolled at him. “You think you’re the first human she’s toyed with? She was good at working people. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice how helpless she can be. She knows it and she used it.” Ixby dumped a clean pile into his sink. “Begging, pleading, even teary-eyed. Mostly food, but even money…for all the good that did. My poor Emerald was scared to go near a drink machine, let alone set foot inside a store.” She turned to look at Jack. “I guess I have you to thank for breaking her of that.”

He turned on the water again. “Yeah, I got my whip out and told her if she didn’t come with me to get smokes, I’d give her twenty lashes. I assume you're the one who made her afraid in the first place.”

She pointed a claw at him. “Don't push it, and before you say anything, no. I didn’t teach her to trick people. Emerald learned how to work humans all on her own.” She laughed. “I didn’t have the patience or the looks for it. I’m too mean.”

“You can say that again.”

The last of the dishes went into the sink with a scoff.

“I have no problems believing she’s self-aware enough to know she’s vulnerable, but using it to manipulate people? Lys was scared of the world. Hell, I still have to drag her.”

A look that could only be described as pride crept over Ixby’s muzzle. “When desperation sets in, you can always rely on a bold to bring out their best.” She waggled a dripping spatula at him. “It’s how we are. She used to bait people by sneaking into their cars and letting herself get caught.”

“That’s crazy.”

The blue kobold nodded, grinning all the while. “She always knew how to play on human pity.” She pointed at her eyes, gesturing with her claws. “Not just any car; she watched first and found whoever looked the softest. Even I wasn’t that brave.” Her eyes almost glimmered with motherly pride, but it went down the drain along with Jack’s rinse water. “Oh my.” For the first time since he’d smacked her with the mug, she looked shocked.

He felt it, a cold and painful crushing, right in his chest, but it only lasted for a few moments before being filled with warmth as he thought it over. He laughed slightly and shrugged. “I guess she got a lot more than she bargained for.”

The blue kobold cocked her head. “And you don’t mind? It doesn’t bother you?” She almost looked disappointed, though he didn’t think she’d said it with intent.

“Maybe it started with a sneaky, manipulative Lys trying to find another sucker and an evening meal, but fate had something else in store, and that’s the Lys I know. Someone kind, loving, and maybe a bit too emotional at times. You should get to know her.”

Ixby stared into him; her scaly lips twitched for a moment, and then she leaned forward like she was going to sniff at him and then shook her head. “Maybe you are a dupe,” she said, pulling the plug on her side. The drain gurgled and slurped, leaving behind a few remnants of pasta that she started plucking from the sink. Jack started to dry his hands off, content that he’d survived the dishes, but not much else. He started to walk off.

“She could do worse, I guess.”

“You guess?”

The kobold nodded, hesitantly. “I guess."

"For a dupe?"

"Let’s leave it at that, for now.”

He almost reached over to pet her between the horns like he did for Lys at times, though he imagined his hand might come back a bloody stump for it.

She dumped the fragments in the trash and pushed aside the stepstool before giving Jack a dismissive wave of her tail. “Go on, tell her what a bitch I am for ruining her Christmas.”

“Come on now.”

“You should dump the blame on me and make yourself the hero.”

He tossed aside the rag and gave his face a quick brush. “Is this some kind of guilt trip? It isn’t like we haven’t fought before.”

“That she hasn’t come back out here to snap at either of us speaks to anyone who’s listening. She’ll look past any grief you gave her, and you’ll rest easy. I’ve seen your bedroom; I assume you don’t usually sleep on the floor in there, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

The scales on her muzzle looked ready to flake off with the thought, though she'd done it to herself. He tried to find the playfulness behind her face, but there wasn’t any. It should have upset him, but all he could manage was a faint touch of sadness, as if dinner and dishes really had made her ever-so-sightly more family. He stopped off at the fridge for a quick swig of milk. “No need to be so noble on my count.”

The blue kobold hoisted herself over the couch. The springs squeaked with her impact, and the end of her tail flopped over the side. “I guess you know that part of her better than I do, then. Go be her man and let me listen to music.” Her tail vanished with the ruffling of the cushion, and her head poked out over the top. “That’s alright, isn’t it? You looked very possessive of your things earlier.”

“It’s fine, just keep it down. The neighbors downstairs are really sensitive to noise.”

She gave him a faint smile and nodded, vanishing again, but before he’d taken a step, she popped back up. “Jack?”

“Yes?”

“I would appreciate it if the more sensitive parts of our talk didn’t reach Lys’s taps.”

Jack’s face screwed up in confusion. “Her what?”

“Her taps.” She rolled her eyes and lifted her hands to the sides of her head, gently tapping her tympanum. “Her ‘ears.’ I don’t know what humans call them.”

“Why do you call them ‘taps’?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea. Because they’re like a drum? Because it’s an easy thing to tap on when a kobold gets nervous? It’s just what we all called them.”

“Come to think of it, I usually say 'ears,' and Lys knows what I mean.”

“But they aren’t.”

“They do the same thing.”

He heard a guttural snort from the couch, almost like a sneeze. “Go on.”

“Goodnight, Ix.”

The cushions ruffled with the sound of sudden movement. Jack turned around to see her sitting up again, looking like he’d doused her in ice water. “Don’t call me that.”