Chapter Text
“Listen to me, Penelope,” Rook says, looking deep into soft brown eyes. “You and me, we’re a team. We can do this. Together. I just need you to work with me. Please. Just walk forward.”
Rook pauses for a moment to allow her pep talk to sink in. Then she takes the lead of Penelope the donkey’s harness and tries move her away from the trailer she arrived in. Penelope, it seems, has not taken Rook’s inspirational speech to heart. She plants her feet and refuses to be moved.
“Oh, you impossible, stubborn ass!” Rook shouts.
It’s not cursing right in front of a church. Rook is pretty sure they use ass in the bible. Also it’s accurate, on a technical level.
This is all Davrin’s fault. He’s the one that called them all in to help with the living nativity for the Arlathan Avenue Methodist Church. His Uncle Eldrin is a deacon at the church, as well as the proprietor of an animal rescue and sanctuary a few miles outside of town.
And Davrin has decided to make this the problem of everyone at the Lighthouse by enlisting them as animal handlers for the show. Bellara was handed an enormous, floppy-earned bunny to carry around. Harding is around here somewhere with a tiny flock of fluffy lamblings following in her wake. Taash has some sort of iguana wrapped around their shoulders, even though Rook is fairly certain there weren’t any iguanas present at the birth of Jesus. Emmrich, with Manfred’s assistance, has taken charge of an amiable-looking highland cow. And Neve, bless her, had gotten a recalcitrant camel to fall into line with a lift of one eyebrow.
It’s only Rook who’s having trouble, it seems. Because of course she was assigned the most headstrong donkey in all of creation. She tries not to take it too personally, but is failing in this effort.
Frustrated, she decides that if inspirational words won’t work, she’ll opt for force.
She firms her grip on the lead and tugs. Penelope digs her hooves in and refuses to be moved. Rook tries again, with the same result. Finally, she opts to pull with her full body weight, leaning back until the rope lead goes taut. Penelope moves not an inch, even when Rook is balancing just on the heels of her boots and making faces at her.
Penelope, with all the timing of a tried and tested ass, decides to take a step forward only when Rook is balanced as precariously as possible, and sticking her tongue out.
The unexpected slack in the rope makes her stumble. She windmills her arms to no avail, and plummets backwards into a bed of hay. The impact knocks all the air out of Rook’s lungs and makes her bite her tongue.
She stares up at the grey, cloudy sky. Her mouth tastes coppery with blood, and her back hurts. Now, of course, Penelope is happy to move, coming over to push her soft muzzle against Rook’s cheek. It feels almost like an apology.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rook grumbles, reaching up to scratch the donkey behind her large ears.
From her left, a high-pitched bleating catches Rook’s attention. She turns her head to find a miniature black goat — a kid with just the tiniest nubs of horns on its head. The little goat lets out another ululating bleat, then takes the end of a shoelace in its mouth and starts to chew happily.
The shoelace is attached to a very shiny dress shoe. She doubts whoever owns it intended for it to be used as a chew toy.
“Hey guy, you might wanna watch your laces,” she calls out, weakly.
“Oh no you don’t,” a familiar, accented voice cries.
Yeah. Rook really should have put the context clues together there. Who besides Lucanis would decide that wearing fancy black dress shoes to wrangle livestock was a good idea.
Then hands reach down to pick the kid up. A moment later, Lucanis is leaning over Rook, giving her a quizzical look, with a baby goat cuddled against his chest. She waves up at him, awkwardly.
“Happy Christmas Eve Eve?” she says.
“Rook?” Lucanis ask. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” she says. “Penelope and I had a difference of opinions, but I think we’ve reconciled now.”
He nods as though this makes perfect sense, reaching a hand down to her. A little reluctantly, Rook takes it and allows herself to be hauled back up to standing. As soon as she’s back on her feet, she releases his hand and steps back.
She’s been replaying the events of last night on a loop in her head basically since they happened. She’s still not sure what exactly went down in the moments between Rook closing her eyes and Lucanis breaking away from her. Despite concerted attempts, she’s been unable to talk herself out of the certainty that he had wanted her. To kiss her, at least. The intent had been plain on his face. Something had spooked him, though. Something had made him run away.
And Rook has to respect that. Doesn’t she? There’s something going on with him that he doesn’t want to talk about. She’s offered. That’s the most she can allow herself. In the meantime, she has to let him have the distance he obviously wants from her. Even if a part of her would like to crowd him against the nearest wall, get him nose to nose, and force him to tell her what’s going through his head. Also … other things. But mostly the first part. Like. A full 80 percent the first part.
She doesn’t do that. She takes another step back, and they stare awkwardly at one another for what feels like forever. Rook opens her mouth to say something to break the painful detente. She isn’t sure what exactly.
Before she has to decide on words, or the order in which to put them, she’s interrupted by a galloping Bernese mountain dog with a small child astride him bounding past them. Penelope lets out a bray of distress as they rocket past. The child emits a whoop of glee. Rook sticks two fingers in her mouth and whistles.
At the sound, Assan pulls up short. He spins in a tight circle, then trots back in Rook’s direction with his tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth. He drools against her palm, nosing around hopefully for treats while she kneels and inspects his passenger. She’s got dark skin and curly hair that's gone a bit wild on her ride, and at the moment she’s sporting a rather dejected look on her face.
“What’s this, Assan?” Rook asks. “Have you moved on from general mischief and petty theft of bacon products to kidnapping? Because that’s quite a step.”
“He didn’t kidnap me,” the little girl clutching at Assan’s collar says. “I kidnapped him. He wanted to go on an adventure. I could just tell.”
“Intuitive, are you?” Rook says. “I get that. What’s your name, kid?"
“I’m Mila,” the girl says. “And who are you?"
“I’m Rook. I’m a friend of Assan’s dad. Does Davrin know you’ve taken his dog for a joyride?”
“Well, I suspect he does by now,” Mild replies, with a tone that suggests Rook has asked a very stupid question.
“I guess that’s fair,” Rook says. “How about your—”
Rook is stopped from asking about the whereabouts of Mila’s parents by the sound of Davrin calling out for Assan. A few seconds later, he jogs up to them.
“Oh, thank god,” he says, bending down to take a firm grip on Assan’s collar. “Look boy, I can’t have you running off with other people’s kids, yeah? Holden! I found her!”
At his words, Rook hears a gruff call of “Mila!” from a distance. A few moments later, a man comes jogging up to them. He’s tall with ruffled dark hair and a panicked look in his eyes. With little fanfare, he plucks Mila from Assan’s back.
“And what the devil do you think you were doing, little miss?” he asks, settling Mila on his hip and giving her a look that Rook suspects is meant to be stern, but ends up more soft than anything else.
“I was taking Assan on an adventure,” Mila replies. “He wanted to come.”
“Oh he did, did he?”
“Obviously,” Mila replies.
“How about next time you ask before you commandeer someone’s dog, eh?”
“But daaad!”
“No buts.”
“How about next time you and Assan have an adventure in a more controlled environment?” Davrin suggests, standing to address Mila directly. “I’ve got a pretty big back yard you could explore together.”
“Really?” Mila says, eyes lighting with the idea of more Assan time. “Like today?”
“Maybe we should give Mr. Davrin some time to prepare for your particular brand of trouble?” Mila’s father suggests. “Or to regret his invitation.”
“I could do tonight,” Davrin offers. “My roommates are out of town visiting family. Maybe we could order in a pizza or something. Let these two have their play date. If you don’t have other plans.”
Rook is still kneeling, scratching Assan under the chin while this exchange takes place. There’s something tentative in Davrin’s usually confident voice that makes her pay attention. She wonders why he hasn’t mentioned a handsome single dad. Well, she hopes he’s single. The look he’s giving Davrin right now — and the fact that, from this angle, she can tell he’s wearing two different colored socks — definitely indicates single.
“I mean, if you’re sure?” Mila’s dad says. “We’d love too. Only, you have to let me cook you something. As a thank you for putting up with this little hellion.”
“Well, I’m not going to turn down a home-cooked meal,” Davrin says, stepping in a little closer and tugging Assan away from Rook’s scritches as he does. “I’m not much of a chef.
“I had to learn, with this one,” the other man says. “Gotta find creative ways to hide the vegetables.”
He leans into Davrin to whisper the last. Rook hides a smile in the collar of her coat, and stands.
“Well, it’s a date, then,” Davrin says. “I mean, a playdate.”
“It’s a date,” Mila’s dad agrees.
He claps Davrin on the shoulder..
“Best get this one into her costume,” he says. “She’s supposed to be a shepherd.”
“I’ll text you!” Davrin calls after him as he walks away.
He just stands there staring after the duo while Rook sidles up to him. She elbows him in the ribs.
“So who was that?” she asks, sing-songing.
“Uh, Holden,” Davrin says. “His name’s Holden. Goes to church with Uncle Eldrin. He and Mila have stopped by the sanctuary a few times while I was helping out. She likes to pet the animals. And she really likes Assan.”
“I could tell,” Rook says. “And why haven’t you mentioned the very cute single dad you’ve got a date with before now?”
“It’s not a date,” Davrin says. “You think he’s cute? He’s cute, right?”
“Very cute,” Rook confirms. “And very into you. Cooking you dinner. That’s a big deal. He’s bringing out the big guns.”
“Little worried about starting something up with a parent though,” Davrin says. “I’m usually a casual guy. Kids don’t really lend themselves to casual.”
There are a lot of things that Rook could say right now. For one, Davrin’s great with kids. In addition to his radio show, he runs an after-school D&D group out of the library, and those kids love him to bits. He’d make a good dad, she thinks. Also, she’s never entirely bought it when he’s insisted, over beers at the Swan, that he prefers dating around. But it’s entirely too early to say any of those thoughts out loud.
“Sometimes it’s good to step outside of your comfort zone,” is what she decides on.
“Maybe …” Davrin says. “I … Yeah. Maybe. I should go see how set up is coming along. You gonna be alright with Penelope?”
“I’ll manage” Rook says.
Now that the dog is being pulled away, Penelope is back to pushing her muzzle into Rook’s hand for attention.
“Alright,” Davrin says. “I’ll see you in there.”
He pats Assan’s side, and the two of them go jogging off in the direction of the church.
Rook scratches behind Penelope’s ears.
“Oh, so now you’re cooperating?” she says. “One murder attempt is just your idea of a friendly hello?”
She wants to be mad, because her back still kind of hurts from that fall, but she can’t quite manage it.
“You’re lucky I’m a sucker for big brown eyes,” Rook mutters.
Speaking of which, Rook catches sight of Lucanis out of the corner of her eye, still hovering nearby. It’s entirely unfair how cute he looks with a tiny goat clutched to his chest. She gives him an awkward salute and tugs gently on Penelope’s lead.
“Rook,” he calls to her just as she’s turning to go.
She pauses, confused. Penelope headbutts her in the hip, anxious all of a sudden to get a move on. Rook’s not entirely sure she disagrees with the sentiment.
Lucanis’ expression is hesitant as he approaches. He’s chewing on his lower lip, and his eyes are cast downward.
“What’s up?” Rook says. “If you’re looking for help with the kid, I kind of have my hands full, but might I recommend lots of snacks? Could save your clothes at least.”
“I think he’s mostly focused on my shoelaces.”
“He is currently eating your buttons,” Rook says, nodding at the goat, who has managed to snip one of the top buttons of Lucanis’ shirt off with his teeth, and is now gnawing on it.
“Mierda, Philipe, how can you still be hungry?” Lucanis mutters, wrestling the button from him.
“I’m telling you” Rook says. “Snacks. He wants to live deliciously.”
“He needs to understand the difference between accessories and food.”
“Go easy on him. He’s just a little guy.”
“Yes, well, this little guy is a few buttons away from making me very underdressed for a church service.”
Rook can’t help it. She’s grinning at him. Leaning in again. As soon as she realizes she’s doing it, she drops the expression and retreats a little.
“Sorry, I —” she starts.
“Rook, about tonight —” Lucanis says at the same time.
Oh no. Rook has made a point of not thinking about tonight. About the Dellamorte Christmas party that she’s had on her calendar for weeks. It’s the party that launched the Lighthouse Holiday Support Group. And she has no idea what the right thing to do about it is. After that debacle at the market, her invitation can’t possible stand.
“Listen,” she says. “I get it. Completely. I know I talk big, but I’m not a party crasher. And I prefer pajamas to party dresses anyway, if I’m honest. You don’t have to worry about tonight at all."
“You’re not coming?” Lucanis says, and his voice is stricken. That’s the only way she can think to describe it. “I mean. Of course. I understand. Why you wouldn’t want to come. I’ll just … It will be fine.”
But the look on his face makes Rook think that maybe it won’t be. He wasn’t talking it up, how nervous he is about this party. Her heart does something unpleasant in her chest, like it’s trying to constrict, and expand, and do a complicate foxtrot all at the same time. She reaches out, thinking to lay a hand on his shoulder before second-guessing herself and pulling back.
“Hey,” she says, catching his eye and holding that contact at least. “If you want me there, I’m there. It’s not even a question.”
It’s bound to be one of the more awkward parties Rook has attended, but she knows it’s worth it when she sees the way Lucanis’ shoulders relax and the faint suggestion of a smile crosses his face.
“I want you there,” he says.
“Then I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
If Rook lingers here in this moment any longer, she’ll say or do something to freak him out again. She takes a couple of steps backward, clicking her tongue at Penelope to get her moving. This time, the donkey complies.
“Tonight …” Lucanis echoes.
“Watch your tie,” she calls out to him before turning around and making herself scarce.
“Hacedor,” Rook hears Lucanis curse behind her back. “Philipe, we don’t eat silk.”