Social Responsibility

Author’s note: another excerpt from what’s becoming a decent body of work. Another POV. It doesn’t make so much sense out of context but there are some sweet aspects here I just adore. Some of it is more true to life than I should probably admit.

*****

The announcer welcomed someone, Tabby didn’t recognise them, either by face or name. Not Alexi. Not important. They were fae, from one of the other families. In their almost-private section the Kachurian contingent watched on with what could only be called amusement. Tabby couldn’t disagree, if it really was Alexi about to step through those doors she didn’t rate the other one’s chances.

Who in their right mind would step into the ring with Alexi Kachura?

Except I know someone who would. I know lots of someones.

‘Tabitha, we should go,’ Badger’s voice was next to her.

‘No.’

She felt a hand on her arm, pulling her back, but rolled her shoulder to brush it off, ease of practice from late nights in the bar moving through crowds of drunken customers.

‘I said I want to see, Badge,’ she told them.

Her attention was still on the Kachurians. One chanced to look her way and paused, looking right at her. A woman, tawny haired. She said something to her companions and they all turned to look in Tabby’s direction.

There it was, the lights came down low everywhere but the centre stage, in the recess of the arena. The crowd hushed apart from a fritter of ominous whispering. And the doors opened. Someone stepped through them.

The hand was back on Tabby’s shoulder, pulling her away and turning her around. Tabby tried to duck and twist away, only ending with her head down and being barrelled through a crowd that mysteriously parted for her only to rush to fill the space again. In the space of a few breaths Tabby found herself outside again, the shock of the cool air and sudden quiet was a shock to her system. Her guiding hand let go just as suddenly and she stumbled forward, spinning around to unleash on her unwelcomed chaperone.

‘What the hells?’

Caolle leaned his head to the side, looking at her quizzically. ‘Language,’ he reproached her. ‘Where’d you even hear that anyway?’

Tabby rolled her eyes and made to push past him. Caolle looped his arm through hers and spun them both around so she ended up facing back the way she’d come.

‘Stop it!’ Tabby tried to pull her arm free but he held her fast.

‘I will not,’ Caolle insisted. ‘This isn’t home, what are you doing here?’

‘Uncle Caolle!’ Tabby kept tugging until he did release her but he stayed firmly planted in her way, head slightly lowered and looking down at her, arms folded across his chest.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘You’re not the boss of me,’ she said, trying to get past him again. He moved, faster than she could follow, and she walked into his chest. She would have bounced off but he caught her by both shoulders.

‘I most certainly am,’ he told her. ‘I’m bigger than you. If I need to I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you kicking and screaming. Mind the face, but feel free to scream until your voice gives out.’

‘I want to go back in,’ Tabby stabbed his chest with her finger. Caolle looked down at her some more.

‘Why?’ He asked.

‘Alexi,’ she shook her head. ‘He’s…he’s in there. Want to…see.’

‘Tabitha Orphal, that is a singularly, spectacularly bad idea. And I am something of a connoisseur of bad ideas. Love them. But that one is just awful. About as awful as you look. Have you been drinking? Smoking? Did you do dust, little fall child?’

Caolle was starting to look blurrier than usual, Tabby had to admit. And standing up straight was getting hard.

‘Yes,’ she poked him with the finger again. He was squishy.

‘Right, that’s enough circus for one day, young lady. Who told you about this place? I want words with them.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Tabby frowned at her own slurred words.

‘We’re adults, so that’s none of your business.’

She pulled away from him. ‘We? Who’s we?’

Caolle winced. ‘No one. You’re drunk.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Spell social responsibility for me then.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘That’s not even close.’

Tabby stared. ‘I’m drunk,’ she said. ‘I’m not, but I am.’

Caolle nodded. ‘You, my dear, are going to have the mother of all hangover’s tomorrow morning. This is what you get for the company you keep, you’ve been breathing in second hand dust all night, and whatever else you kids do these days.’

‘Shuddup,’ Tabby said to him.

‘Whoops, there we go,’ Caolle scooped her up just as her legs gave out. ‘Time to call it a night.’

‘Fine,’ Tabby dragged out the word in reluctant acquiescence. She focused on keeping her eyes shut to combat the sudden queasiness from the motion of being carried. ‘Whatever. I don’t care.’

‘Excellent.’

‘Uncle Caolle?’

‘Yes, my favourite fall child?’

‘You smell like flowers.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I saw Aunt Kerry tonight. She had flowers.’

‘How is Aunt Kerry?’

‘She doesn’t like you.’

‘No, no she does not. She never really did,’ Caolle agreed. ‘You know she’s not your real aunt.’

‘You’re not my real uncle,’ Tabby shrugged, nestling her head in.

Caolle gasped in mock pain, juggling her in his arms. ‘Oh, right in the feels. Why must you be so mean to me?’

‘You were horrible to me growing up.’

‘Lies. I adored you, making fun of you was just my way of showing it. Look how that turned out, what a strong minded, independent young woman you are. Free to adorn herself with whatever ghastly tattoos she sets her sights on.’

‘Fuck you, Uncle Caolle,’ Tabby nudged him with her shoulder, before resting her head on his.

‘How was Kerin?’

‘Same. Samesies.’

‘Did she recognise you? You’re getting so big these days, especially around the hips. All growed up. And heavy. Where did the years go?’

‘You smell like smoke too, are you smoking again? That’s bad, that could kill you.’

Caolle laughed, she felt the vibration. ‘Oh, sweets, no, those are absolutely not what’s going to kill me. More than likely it’ll be Mark, or maybe Marie. Possibly Andi. Alexi is also an outside chance. Kenzie, if I stand her up a few dozen times more. I hope it’s not one of the Szgany, that would be such a wretched way to go out. But it will definitely be a person, quite a specific person. What kind of punk goes out to a combustible cancer stick? How pathetic.’

‘They stink,’ Tabby told him.

‘You stink.’

‘Shuddup.’

‘See, this is what I taught you. The art of talking back to your elders and betters and nearest and dearest. You’re welcome.’

Tabby snorted. It was almost a laugh. But not quite, because then he’d be right.

‘How’s your sister?’ Caolle asked.

Tabby sat up, lifting her head off his shoulder. She tried to get down but Caolle just kept on walking. He didn’t seem to have any trouble carrying her. She wondered where Badger and Whisper had got to. They had a car.

‘That bad, huh,’ Caolle nodded. ‘Sisters, right? I know that feeling.’

‘Prodigal daughter returns,’ Tabby sighed.

‘Did she though?’ Caolle asked her. ‘She looked right at me and didn’t know me. And I didn’t know her. Who even is she? Who is Alice, Tabitha?’

‘Yes.’ It was all she could think to say.

‘Not quite here and not quite gone,’ Caolle said, ignoring her. ‘Sound about right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sisters. They’re the worst. Mine is worse but yours sound horrible. Tabby?’

‘Yes?’

‘Where are we going?’

‘To see Angela.’

‘Ah yes, Angela. Where do we find this person I’ve never heard of?’

Tabby raised an arm and pointed without opening her eyes. ‘Home, Jeeves!’

‘Excellent,’ Caolle agreed. ‘Home it is.’