Carp looks at Writer Lady.
“It could be worse.” She offers. “If Daemon had come down with this it would have been worse.”
“You’re forgetting one small detail.” Carp says. “The demon doesn't carry live ammo.”
“Daemon has really big horns. Pointy ones.”
“Tinkletoes has smoke bombs and hand grenades. Really Big Guns.” Carp counters.
“Daemon is really big.”
Carp turns from the self-proclaimed mercenary to Writer Lady wondering if something that lame is all she's got.
“He's big enough that he could do some serious damage to House.” She says in an attempt to expand her argument.
“I keep trying to think back,” Tinkletoes continues, “to the moment when I started messing my life up. Was it when I left the military, went into business for myself, was it further back?” Tinkletoes asks looking at Writer Lady and Carp. “When I was in school, I didn't always want to eat the vegetables on my lunch tray. Smelt always had potato chips and a cupcake in his lunch. My grandma was one of the lunch ladies so I always got my lunch at school. Grandma never let me have any chips or sweets, if I complained about it she’d give me extra vegetables.”
Neither respond with a kind word or sympathy.
“That woman cannot cook a vegetable.”
Still nothing.
“If I didn't see her at work in the lunch room I'd trade lunches with Smelts.” He confessed. “He really believed if he ate the vegetables he’d never be shoved into another locker again.
“How is trading lunches in grade school taking the wrong road in life?” Writer Lady asks.
Tinkletoes turns, looking pointedly at her.
“What?” She asks. “Is it a woman's responsibility to tell a man what's wrong with him?”
“Sometimes others can see what you can't.” Tinkletoes offers.
“He's right.” Carp admits.
Writer Lady steps away from Tinkletoes, turns and stares at the room in front of her.
Carp follows, “Are you okay?”
“He's looking for me to give him information. Not just information but guidance. This is serious.” She says.
“As I was saying.”
Tinkletoes picks his narrative back up. “I've devoted my life to fighting for the good guys. When I saw the extent of the threat to mankind from both Ninja Zombies and space aliens…”
TP pops into the room just outside Tinkletoes’ line of sight and begins playing a sad tune on a tiny violin.
“I not only entered the fight…”
The violin continues playing by itself as the faerie holds up a sign that reads: We've Heard It All Before.
Tinkletoes continues, “...I took command...”
“Because he can't stand not being the center of attention.” House whispers.
Writer Lady hears several beeps and the sound of Tinkletoes’ words faintly echo throughout the rest of the house.
“...leading my fellow soldiers to victory time and time again.”
TP holds up another sign that reads. It Was Literally One Weekend.
“Here I am sitting alone…”
“Dude… you're never alone.” Ray says walking into the bonus room.
“He's right.” Carp admits.
“There are five of us so far.” Writer Lady points out.
“And more are coming.” Ray offers.
A faraway look comes to the self-proclaimed mercenary's eye. Tinkletoes is a very important dude with a speech to give and no one is going to change his narrative… not yet anyway. “...wondering if these last few years have had any meaning at all.”
“Space aliens have abducted Tinkletoes and replaced him with something with a brain.” House says. Alarm sounds go off throughout the house. “Activating space alien attack force field, scanning for unidentifiable life forms. Raise security level to DEFCON 2.”
Writer Lady looks at the ceiling, she steps away from Tinkletoes and the friends who have surrounded him. “House, we’re in the midst of an anxiety epidemic. Would you mind leaving your cruel comments at home?” Writer Lady says.
“I am the home therefore I don't have one. Nice try.”
Writer Lady holds her temper, “Behave or I'm not power washing you next weekend.”
“No facial scrub?” House asks in a worried tone.
“No facial scrub.”
“Fine. I wasn't having that much fun anyway. Come on TP.”
Writer Lady runs her index finger down the length of her other index finger several times shaming TP. The faerie blows a raspberry back at her before disappearing in a puff of smoke.
Ray, Carp, Dobby, the kittens, the kids, and Aunt Purdy all surround Tinkletoes. Several voices call out, offering help and asking what could be done to make him feel better. Writer Lady hears everything being offered up from washing his truck and cleaning his field gear to rearranging his weapons in alphabetical order and his ammo by size for easy access.
“I don't believe it.” Writer Lady mutters, “A woman gets anxiety and we're weak or have hormone issues or something. A child, a man or an enchanted being gets anxiety and everyone comes to help.”
“No but thanks,” could be heard coming from Tinkletoes.
People wish him well before going back to what they were doing leaving Carp and Writer Lady alone with the self-proclaimed mercenary.
“Are you sure there isn't anything we can do to help you feel better?” Carp presses.
“There may be one thing. I ran out of cupcakes a couple of days ago.” Tinkletoes says before looking at Writer Lady.
Writer Lady’s neutral expression quickly goes dark. “No. Not today.”
“It's going to make him feel better.” Carp says.
“Query letter! We're on a deadline! One that you gave me.”
“Deadlines/ guidelines it's all the same.”
“Not really.”
“We'll make an exception. Just for today.”
“I don't think it's a good idea to make an exception. This whole process is painful enough without stringing things out.”
“But you've already made so much progress.”
“I have other projects I need to be working on if I'm not working on the query letter.”
“You're helping a friend. Sweet treats make everyone feel better.” Carp says with a smile.
“Sweets are a short-term solution to a much bigger problem.”
“We can't find the source of the fire if we don't put out the flames blocking the front door.” The assassin-in-training offers.
“It's over 100° outside!” Writer Lady counters.
“That's just the heat index. It’s not really that hot.”
Writer Lady sighs, “What am I baking?” She asks.
“I'm not sure what I feel like.” Tinkletoes says. “If I could just get an assortment: Vanilla with a cream filling, Red velvet, Black velvet, Dark chocolate mint, and some of those Salted Caramel ones with the bacon on top.”
Writer Lady stomps into the kitchen and begins working, slamming everything that can be.
“See, all fixed.” Carp says looking at Tinkletoes, “You should get some rest.”
“A nap does sound pretty good," the self-proclaimed mercenary admits.
Carp heads for the kitchen. Retrieving a soda from the refrigerator he turns to Writer Lady.
“Remind me again why Tinkletoes having anxiety is better," she says.
“If Tinkletoes recovers from the anxiety it won’t spread and Daemon won't get it.”
“As long as the demon doesn't come down with it everything will be okay.” She says.