"In some aspects, yes," Naia replied. "She accepted things quickly, but she didn't take your unique approach to tackling problems." Naia's tub echoed with her laugh. "At least, not right away. We spent plenty of nights together in the tub, just the two of us."
"Gonna be honest, not sure how to take that news right now." Mike pulled a shirt over his head. "I'll see you later."
"Stop out in the garden," Naia told him. "I would love the company."
"Can do." Mike left his room, walking silently down the long hall. He pondered every closed door he walked past, seeing each as an inevitable trap. What was hiding here, behind these quiet doors? Eventually, he would open them all, checking each room for another Tink, or even a Cecilia.
A chill went up his spine at the thought of the banshee. He needed to make nice with her, and he thought he had a good way to do it. He placed his hand on the top rail of the stairs, looking down the rest of the hall. Two doors on each side of the hall and a tall, ebony wardrobe with a silver handle.
Had that wardrobe always been there?
The sound of breaking glass startled him. He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen to see Tink frowning at a busted bowl on the floor. She blushed when she saw him.
"Tink got startled," she explained, eying the bowl. "But Tink can fix."
"Don't bother." Mike grabbed a broom and swept up the glass. "Bowls are easily replaced." Tink nodded at this, following him into the kitchen. Mike pulled the box of Eggos out of the freezer.
"Are those good?" Tink asked. Mike nodded, shoving them in the toaster.
"Eggos? The best, as long as you know how to dress them up properly." Pulling a tub of butter from the fridge, he set syrup and peanut butter next to it. When the toaster popped, he stacked the Eggos on his plate, slathering them first in butter, then peanut butter. He topped them with some syrup, handing them to Tink. "Try that and let me know what you think?"
Tink took the plate, sniffing at the Eggos. "Tink not so sure," she informed him before picking up an Eggo. She bit into it, syrup and peanut butter running down her chin.
"So what do you think?" Mike asked.
"Tink think goblin husband learn to cook." She handed the plate back to Mike. "Tink need real food." She opened the fridge, standing on her tiptoes to see to the back. Her double nipples perked up under the cold air. "Tink like pizza."
"Well, we're out of pizza, but maybe this will help." Mike pulled a bag of pizza rolls out of the freezer. "We can cook these up in a hurry."
"Use oven. Microwave is lazy." Tink took the bag from him, reading the instructions. "Tink can do this. Mike eat Eggo things."
"Fair enough." Clearly, he and Tink had different tastes in food. He made a pot of coffee, which Tink happily shared with him while they waited. Tink unceremoniously dumped the whole bag onto a pan, and Mike sighed inwardly. When he had bought food yesterday, he hadn't accounted for another mouth to feed. Tink found a pad of paper in one of the drawers and was busy jotting notes to herself as the pizza rolls cooked. Mike dug through a collection of inbound emails, mostly job related, when he saw one from the Historical Preservation Society.
Curious, he clicked the link. The writer of the email laid out all sorts of reasons why they wanted to buy the place, but Mike didn't bother reading it. He trashed the file after only a few sentences.
"Show Tink." The goblin appeared between him and the laptop, her head blocking his view. "Show Tink how to use magic screen."
"I'll show you later. What did you put on the list?" Tink handed him the paper. Her handwriting was surprisingly elegant, a cursive lettering that made him think of wedding invitations. Scanning the list, Mike felt a hard lump form in his throat. Every line of the paper was full with something that needed fixing. "You found all of these things wrong already?"
"Tink know some from before." The oven beeped, and Tink left his side to retrieve her breakfast. Mike couldn't help but watch her as she inspected each roll carefully between her claws before popping them in her mouth. "Before big sleep, Tink keep journal on broken stuff, but Emily not always buy Tink supplies. Bad ladies won't let her, she tell Tink."
"Bad ladies?" Mike thought of the email. "Oh, the historical society. Yeah, we have to be careful doing repairs, apparently. This place is on a national registry, and we have to follow the rules or…"
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