Not another coffee shop talk

[Marguerite De Silva]

Marge set her phone face-down onto the table with a sigh and picked up her espresso. She studied its dark surface briefly and then took a sparing sip as her sharp gaze darted back and forth. Birdy Bee Cafe was hardly the place to instigate a fight but she wasn't going down like a little bitch...

Ken dropped into the chair opposite her with hardly a word, carrying his own cup of coffee. Marge set her cup down onto the saucer with a soft clink. "Didn't expect to see you here, Skinny."

"..." Ken's brows lifted but his expression remained stoic. "I've not been called that before," he muttered at last, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Hm." Marge smiled humorlessly across the table at him. "Cut the crap, Ken. Why are you following me? I know you've been talking to your hunter buddies. This another job?" Nothing got by Marge--not where it came to her family. And if someone was talking to hunters and threatening the people closest to her, she was going to find out. One way or another.

Ken seemed pensive for a long moment while he sipped his coffee, eyes on the table. "No," he said finally, shaking his head. "Not the kind of job you're thinking of. I'm not a hunter anymore."

"So the conversation with your friends from out of town?"

"I wanted to see if they knew anything that could help Brayden. They said a witch was asking around town about life fruits. Figured it was you. I'm here to help."

Marge toyed with the handle of her cup. It seemed like one of those things that Raf or even Bee would go nuts over--it had cute bumblebees all over and the handle was painted in yellow and black stripes. "Not a hunter anymore, huh?"

"No."

"Why? You'll excuse me for being a little suspicious, but hunters are no strangers to lies. The others might think you're on their side, but I'm not as easy to convince. Skinny."

It was a while before Ken spoke and even then, Marge sensed that he was still weighing his words all-too-carefully.

"I found what I was looking for. I was never really a part of the guild. It was only convenient for me to travel with them."

"And you were looking for...?"

Ken's brows lifted as though it should have been obvious. Marge frowned. Not many things would make a hunter hang up the boots for good. They didn't suddenly grow a conscience. If they weren't killed they were turned. Sometimes they fell in love though. With the enemy. "...Butterfingers..."

"What?"

"The one who thinks nobody sees him trying to pick the lock on the liquor cabinet." Marge didn't know how to pronounce his name. Ni-all? Nee-all? She preferred Butterfingers; call it an... affectionate pet name. It probably would've been easy to find out if she asked... but nah.

Ken merely nodded. Didn't speak a whole lot, did he? Marge got that whole lone wolf deal--saw it a lot--but this guy was going a step beyond that. She didn't know how Butterfingers got along with someone who didn't speak more than ten words at a time. Then again, how did any of the others get along with their significant others?

If you asked her, Jack and Bee were the only normal couple there. And by far the cutest. No bias or anything.

"So. You fell in love with a dark fae prince and suddenly decided that hunting's not for you anymore?" Her sarcastic tone seemed to roll right off of Ken's back. He shrugged and sipped his coffee again... and she still didn't trust him completely. "Pretty quick 180 there, Skinny."

"No."

"No what?" Jesus. Was this going to be a game of 20 questions? Marge resisted the urge to slap the coffee out of his hand.

"I didn't suddenly decide to quit." For the first time, Ken broke the stalemate of their direct eye-contact and looked down at his own cup. "We're starting a family."

"Oh jesus." Marge leaned back in her chair with a squeak and a long exhale and turned her eyes skyward. She shook her head. "A family? You and Butterfingers?" God, what did that look like? Ken doing most of the work, Marge thought. And Butterfingers running around all in a panic, making a mess of things. More of a mess of things. "Sure you're ready for that? Hunting might be easier."

The shadow of a smile crossed Ken's lips. He didn't say anything but he shrugged lightly and Marge shook her head again. Nobody would lie about something as bizarre as that. And Ken seemed serious--okay, he was always serious but Marge could tell by the light in his heart that he meant what he said.

"So you're not buddy-buddy with the hunters."

"No. My only... buddy... also quit. There's nothing keeping me there."

Marge thought that over for a long moment, studied him for longer, and then slowly pushed back from the table. She dunked the espresso in one shot and dropped the cup back down onto the saucer.

"IF I let you in on this, you're backup, got it? I know these bitches. I mean--" Her smile would have sent grown men scurrying for cover. "Witches. I know what they'll want for the life fruit, but I also know that they have a little problem with staying honest. So if they pull a double-cross, you're going to pull the trigger. On all of them. Got it?"

"...yes."

"Good. And whatever you hear about me when we get there doesn't get back to the others. You keep my secrets... and I won't tell Butterfingers you're out here talking to big bad hunters. Deal?" Marge held out a hand; Ken stood and shook it firmly without hesitation.

"Deal."