Chapter Text
"Come on, let's see the victim!" Molly arched his back against the creamy leather of the passenger seat, stretching out ringed fingers behind him.
"Alright, alright just keep your ass in the seat," Fjord said.
"How do you know where my ass is? Eyes on the road, darling."
"Oh trust me, they're fixed."
"Come on, come on," Molly urged, groping blindly behind him.
"Gods just wait, like for just literally five seconds--" Beau said.
He could hear her scrambling then felt the cool of the tablet hit his greedy fingers. "Ah! Good, grand."
He snapped back into his seat properly and flipped open the tablet cover with a happy sigh. His window was down just enough for the breeze to catch in his hair, all fresh cut grass and warmth and orange blossoms. He took a deep breath, this was nice, it somehow felt cooler out of the city, but that wasn't so surprising, was it? The sea was fairly close to this part of the country. Maybe they could make it down there one day, once the filming was over.
"Molly?" Fjord prompted meaningfully from the driver's seat.
"Right, here we go!" Molly pivoted himself smartly so the wide-shot camera on the dashboard would get his best side. He tapped on the screen and opened the photo album, scanning idly through the shots they had as his silver bangles jangled lightly. "Interesting, interesting," Molly hummed, tapping his sharp finger rhythmically on the tablet.
"Don't be a tease, Molly!" Jester protested from her seat squeezed between Beau and Yasha in the back.
"Never," Molly insisted, "go on then, twenty questions, what'd you want to know?"
"Young and sad or old and sad?" Jester asked.
"Jester!" Fjord chided.
"What? We help sad people, that's the show."
"That's not exactly the show," Yasha said.
"I don't know... it's a pretty accurate byline," Beau muttered.
"Young!" Molly interrupted. "And not especially sad looking."
"Twenties?" Beau asked.
"Early thirties."
"Just like you," Jester smiled.
"Don't tease me, Jester. You're all aware I'm turning twenty five in June and expect many extravagant gifts."
"Single?" Fjord asked.
"They're always single, Fjord," Jester teased.
"Not always," Yasha said.
"Single, check," Molly said.
"Handsome?" Jester crooned.
Molly frowned, squinting at the blurry shot. "Honestly? Hard to tell..."
These photos were certainly something. Most of the time when people submitted to be on the show they at least got a few classic candids, things like a graduation or a wedding, an arm slung around a loved one, a face smiling back at the camera. There were none of those sort of photos here, in fact they were rather like something that would be presented at a restraining order hearing. The one in front of him now was taken from behind a bush, bits of foliage blocking out part of the man's face, the next was while he was asleep on a couch with his arm draped over his eyes, another showed him walking a few feet ahead down the street, looking utterly unaware. All of this was made even stranger by the fact that it looked as though they were all taken from a very low angle, which combined with the odd candid nature put to mind a child learning to use a camera by snapping pictures of whomever happened to be close at hand.
"Ginger, huh?" Fjord said craning to look over.
Molly pulled the tablet back protectively. "Hey, that's cheating."
Fjord sniffed, adjusting his grip on the wheel. "Hair looks decent, bit of a mess..."
"Does anyone have a gold star for understatement?" Molly smirked.
"Who nominated him?" Yasha asked.
"I bet it was his mom," Jester said, mock conspiratorially behind a hand to Yasha, "with the young single ones it's always the mom."
"Friend actually," Molly answered.
"Well hey, least he's got a friend," Beau shrugged.
"Beau, we talked about this," Molly said, leaning his head over the back of the seat. "Positivity, please."
"I think I'm being extremely positive given the circumstances."
"Might even say aggressively positive," Fjord muttered.
"That's right," she smiled at him, all teeth and sarcastic glint. "That's my brand, aggressive positivity."
"Charming."
"That's no fair Beau," Jester pouted, "I want a brand--"
"Getting close!" Fjord broke in.
Molly gazed out the window. The shiny black of the truck was slipping into a town. It was small, a park with a popular playground flanked by willow trees, a diner with an ice-cream stand, a small Main Street that was significantly less depressing than some of the others they'd been down. And that was where the orange blossom smell was coming from; the Main Street was lined in orange trees just starting to bloom.
"Y'all feeling ready?" Fjord asked.
"I think Molly needs to pop at least three more buttons," Beau muttered.
"Gods, of course, thank you for the reminder dear." He flicked open two more buttons with a wink to the dashboard camera. It was a good look if he said so himself, the light blue short sleeve button up gaping almost to his navel. There was a small repeating pattern of moons decorating the fabric in a blue so light it was almost white, which set off the silver on his wrists, horns, fingers and ears neatly. He had platinum aviators tucked between his horns, and white jeans that fit him perfectly, all tied together with a highly crafted Oxfords tipped in silver metal on the toe. He loved those shoes. If he sat just right he could check his reflection.
"What's his name?"
Molly swiveled, blinking in surprise. "What's that?"
Jester rolled her eyes enunciating dramatically, "What's, his, name?"
"Uhhh--" Molly frowned. He was usually very good about that, remembering and getting it worked right into the intro footage. He'd have to get them to edit this bit out. The last thing he needed was for this episode to come off poorly. It was the last thing any of them needed. He liked this job, he got paid to look pretty and tell people very politely what to do. It was perfect. He care for the idea of going back to picking out outfits for older women with too much money after this. He enjoyed TV and he thought he was very good at it. At least he had. Their first season had wonderful ratings, but the second had lagged, and now with the third in production the producers were sharpening their claws...
He looked down at the tablet again, swiping through his notes. "Caleb."
"Caleb what?" Beau asked.
"Let me see here, Widogast."
Beau snorted. "What does he have like three ex-wives tanned in his attic?"
"Beau I swear to god--" Fjord started.
"What! It's not him, I'm sure he's perfectly fucking average. As usual. Just a bad name. Come on, you gotta admit it's a bad name."
"I don't know, it's rather romantic, like some haunted Zadashian forest," Molly painted with a flourish of the hand. He flicked back to the pictures. Did this man look like a Caleb to him? Maybe. Shy, a little overly self-conscious. The name had a quiet sort of sound to it, like a passed secret.
"There's no work address," Yasha said, "we could let the camera crew know they should head right to the house, does that sound like a good idea, Molly?"
Molly took one more look at the blurry silhouette with the hesitant smile. They really were terrible pictures. They'd have to sneak some better ones early on in the process for the B-reel. He slid his aviators down over his nose. "I think that's a fantastic idea."
---
"This was a terrible idea."
Crashing sounded from the kitchen as Nott scrambled about. She didn't seem to hear him at all.
"Nott, did you hear me?" Caleb called from the living room where he was preoccupied trying not to pace a hole through the threadbare carpet.
"What?" Her shrill cry came back from inside a cabinet.
"I--" Caleb started again only to be cut off as Frumpkin shot out of the kitchen, heading right for the cat door on the back porch. Caleb wished he could follow. The under the porch on the cool dirt so deep no one could yank you out again sounded like heaven right about now.
Nott busied herself arranging all of their dirty mugs across the counter in a matrix. "What's up?"
"This," Caleb swallowed and shut his eyes for moment, trying to find the right words. "Nott, this was not a very good idea."
"No, no, no-- this was an amazing idea! We just have to make sure this place looks really truly terrible. Which, you could help you know, throw some old ratty t-shirts around or something."
"I-- I think it's far from ideal as it is."
"Yes! But if it looks really bad, then we'll get even more free stuff, look--" she slid out of the kitchen holding a bottle of chocolate sauce he hadn't realized they owned. "Now, we don't have to, but, we could get some of this on the couch, just to hedge our bets."
Caleb snatched the chocolate sauce away. "Nott, listen--"
Her massive yellow eyes swiveled from the contrived chaos of the living room to lock to his earnestly. "Yes?"
Caleb took a deep breath. "I... I don't know if I want to go through with this."
"You... don't want the free stuff?"
"Nein! I mean, I don't not-- look: this was a... nice idea, a nice and very confusing idea. I still am not sure why you thought it would be a good thing to sign me up for whatever this is, the Mighty Nine--"
"The Mighty Fine..." Nott corrected quietly.
"Ja, that. I... alright that makes more sense--"
"Look," Nott reached up and put a hand on the edge of his frayed shirt. "I am sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't ask before sending in your name, but it just, well it seemed like such a good opportunity."
"To invite a bunch of strangers into our house to call me a mess and throw away all of our things?"
"And buy us new things! I know you've never really seen the show but they redo whole houses! And all new clothes and food, and well, it looks nice when they're done. And it was free!"
Caleb groaned. He let himself collapse on their old couch, which despite lacking chocolate sauce was already in a fairly sorry state. It sagged in the middle and threatened to suck you up like some slime beast, but he liked that it sagged in the middle, he liked that it looked like hell. Frumpkin loved to tear up the right back corner. What would he do with a new couch, guiltily tell his cat to go have fun elsewhere? He wasn't sure he had that in him.
"I, I appreciate that you thought this was a good idea. I can see the appeal. I mean I suppose I am a bit... well, I can see why they might be interested in my potential for... reality television," he suppressed a shudder. "But can't we, I don't know, call them up, tell them we have to cancel? I don't think I can do this."
Nott dragged a foot guiltily on the floor. "Well... no."
"Why not? I'm sure it happens, people get cold feet."
"Yes, I'm sure but, well... they're about to get here."
"What?" Caleb felt his stomach drop straight through the couch.
"Probably any minute, honestly. That's why I was trying to make sure everything looked especially awful, I-- Caleb!"
But he was already gone, scrambling up the stairs towards his room.
"Don't jump out a window!" Nott cried as he vanished up the creaking steps. "If I have to tell them you ran away into the woods when they get here--"
"Just, no, my coat, I have to hide my coat, I--"
"Here comes the camera van!"
Caleb spun back to his room, trying to make sense of the things that truly mattered in all the clutter. "Scheisse. Scheissescheissescheisse!"
"Oh! It's actually sort of cute," Molly said, rolling down the window and leaning out. The air was perfect out here, just that temperature where a good breeze almost feels like swimming.
"It's falling down," Beau said.
"It's got character," Molly insisted.
Beau elbowed Yasha, "Go on, tell him. He only listens to you."
Yasha leaned out the window to take a look. "It's a little... slanted."
"See." Beau said.
"It's by train-tracks! I always thought it would be wonderful to have a house by train-tracks."
"Gods, why?" Beau asked.
"Train tracks are fun," Jester chimed in, as the house got closer and closer. "You can put all sorts of things on them and when the train goes by then come out all flat and funny, you know, like coins, jewwwwelry, little porcelain figurines from the top shelf in the kitchennn--"
"Okay we're definitely doing that."
"Don't encourage him," Fjord smiled. He parked the truck and Molly leapt out. The camera van was already pulled off the one side waiting, he could tell they'd made their way inside, just leaving two waiting to capture their entrance. Molly waved at the first, Brian he was pretty sure. Brian gave him a thumbs up.
"Mics good?" Molly asked the woman off to the side with a boom-mic, Sasha, she'd been with them forever.
"Unfortunately," she answered, glaring at Beau. Beau snapped her finger against her lavalier. Sasha flipped her off.
Molly took a deep breath of the humid summer air and spun around, taking the rest in. Funny, he always loved places like this, hidden corners, forgotten things. It was hardly five minutes from the center of town but it felt so setback and still amongst the large trees. There was a broken down fence around the outside leading to a sagging covered porch. The paint was peeling off the sides and probably nothing but lead, but it did look, well, maybe he was a bit of a sucker, but hell it did look romantic. There were cicadas buzzing in the trees, the smell of July heat and something like a river nearby. The train-tracks were a little ways off, not directly by the house, but close enough that he imagined you could see the trains very well as they slid past in the night all lit up with other people's lives and journeys. Molly pulled himself away from the picture. He turned to Yasha as she uncurled herself and stepped out of the car, arching her back to her full impressive height.
"Hey."
She turned to him, "Hey."
"How do I look?"
She smiled gently and tucked one stray curl behind his ear. "Just fine."
He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh great."
"You look like a fucking god Molly!" Jester crooned.
"Thank you dear."
"And I don't mean like an annoying god I mean like one that's really good at fucking--"
"Yo, language!" Sasha snapped.
"Alright," Molly turned back to them all, "ready?"
Fjord straightened his collar. "Let's hit it."
The door to the tiny house burst open with a smack of sound. And shit, that might have been one of the hinges going. Oh well.
"CALEB WIDOGAST! THE BELL TOLLS FOR THEE!" Molly crowed.
The rest flooded in behind him instantly, pushing through the old door to get a proper look. The place was... well, if the outside looked rather romantic, that certainly didn't seep past the surface.
Molly whistled. "That's certainly some literature."
There were books everywhere. Molly didn't think he'd seen so many books in one place his life. He wasn't sure he'd seen so many books ever. Bookstores kept things tidy, library's kept things orderly, neither gave one the impression that the very edges of reality were simple disintegrating into paper pages and well worn bindings. The books looked wild, splayed out like lazy beasts where they pleased across the furniture and floor, layered into gluttonous towers that took up more space than almost all of the other furniture combined. Books aside, the place was a mess: mugs and clothes scattered, at least three different terrible carpets covering up the old wood floors, cat hair everywhere, but surprisingly all of the books looked clean.
"Oh hell!" Fjord swore, barely managing not to trip over a pile of books jammed right up against the doorframe. Yasha caught him, lifting him up and staring around and all the work waiting for her. Fjord sneezed, instantly glaring at the cat hair all over the floor with yet another, "ah, hell."
"HellLLllo! Anyone homMme!" Jester sang, snatching up a pink feathery cat toy from the floor and swirling it around as she headed for the kitchen. "Oh jeez, there's nothing in here but ants and bread crusts and some weird looking meat, Molly!"
"Holy shit, books much?" Beau stepped inside.
"Hello!" a strange voice piped.
Beau screamed. Molly spun around just in time to see her go bright red with shame which was entirely worth it. The little goblin was standing just to the side of the door, somehow managing to go unseen by them all until just now.
She narrowed her gigantic yellow eyes at Beau repeating herself. "I said, 'Hello'."
"Yes, hello! I'm Molly," Molly chimed, instantly offering her a hand. "I'm a hugger, but something tells me to resist that impulse."
"Smart." She took his hand. "It's Nott."
"Ah, our obliging sponsor!"
"That's right," she gave his hand a good squeeze eyeing him intensely through the mess of straggly black bangs. She was surprisingly strong for someone so small and her nails were a little sharp but then again so were his. He didn't try to make it a contest, just smiled, shook nicely, and pulled back.
"You're very... bright," she said.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"I thought they enhanced that with the special effects or editing or something, you know, for appearances and all that."
"Nope just me." He turned right to the closest camera person with a wink. "You got that right?" They gave gave Molly a thumbs up.
"Alright, Beau?" Yasha called.
Beau cleared her throat. "Fine. Good. All good."
"There are a lot of kitten mugs in here Molly..." Jester called from the kitchen. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to let Yasha smash them..."
"Now where would Mister Widogast be, Nott?" Molly asked.
Almost on cue there was a thud on the ceiling above. Molly tilted his head sharply. He looked to Nott. She gave him a nod.
"UPWARD!" Molly roared.
"Huzzah," Beau echoed sarcastically.
Molly found the skinny old stairs faster than he expected, rushing up with the rest behind. The old wooden frame jolted and thudded under five heavy pairs of feet as Molly tried not leave enough space for the cameras and not jostle the mics too badly. Jester attempted to elbow past him and he jammed his shoulder across the tight width of the passage, "No you don't!"
She laughed and snaked her tail around his leg, tugging it back. Molly swore as he tripped, just managing to keep his footing as she squirmed past and leapt out of the stairway. "First! First!" She lunged for the partly ajar door.
"Not so fast!" Molly grabbed her tail and pulled hard. She yelped, crashing back onto the floor.
"Kids, please," Fjord called.
Molly danced past her snarling, shouldered into the door, spun in one neat circle to land with open arms and a brilliant smile. "Your salvation has arrived!"
The room was empty.
Jester plowed into his back hard enough to knock his wind out. They both hit the floor with a smack of sound.
"For fuck sake Jester!" Fjord yelled.
"He started it!"
"You always start it," Beau called.
Molly blinked against the floorboards as Jester pulled herself off of him. He could just see under the closet door in this position. There was someone standing inside. Molly grinned.
He peeled himself off the floor. "Ah, must be the wrong room, better check the others."
"Too slow!" Jester shoved past the rest as they clambered and spun to continue the hunt. Molly faked a wince, moving slower behind them. He caught Yasha's eye and gave her a meaningful look. She nodded shortly and shut the door after the last camera left.
Molly sighed. He turned, taking a few light steps across the floor again. He leaned against the door-jam, listening as Jester and Beau plowed through the room next door like oxen.
Molly reached out and lightly rapped two knuckles against the closet. "Anyone home?"
Inside the closet there was a shuffling of feet.
"May I come in?" Molly asked.
There was a moment of silence. "I'd rather you didn't."
"Well then would you consider coming out?"
"I... are you going to pick me up and spin me around or put costumes on me or something like that?"
"Not at the moment."
The closet shuffled again. Molly took the hand he'd knocked with and opened it gently, palm down against the door. "'S alright, the cameras stepped out for a moment."
After another pause the closet sighed. Finally, the door clicked open. Molly stayed put, temple resting against the doorframe. A foot emerged, then a knee, and then a rather skinny looking young man a few inches shorter than himself.
"Hello there," Molly said pleasantly.
The man turned to face him, his shocking blue eyes flicked to Molly's for just a moment, widened, and then fell immediately back on the floor. "Oh, uh, ja, hello..."
Molly couldn't help straightening up. "Oh."
The stare flicked to his face for a just a moment again. "What?"
"You're actually..." Molly tilted his head with a please smile, "you're just very handsome, aren't you?"
The man rolled his eyes hard. "I very much doubt that."
But he was, surprisingly so. The photos had been pretty awful, so he hadn't been expecting much, but this was, well, certainly not what he'd have put money on. It wasn't the bits and pieces that were the most striking, not the freckled ruddy skin that was flushing under the direct attention, or the quick dark blue eyes all care and clever and concern, or the artless way his hair was mussed, pushed back in a manner that was absolutely, unintentionally sexual. It wasn't any of those individual things, it was how they all came together, like light threads pulling through white linen to form a whole pattern. There was a strength that peered from the space between those fragile pieces: the tautness of his neck, the lines under his eyes, the thickness of his hair, the wider bridge of his nose... Molly was suddenly struck with the image some woodland thing, hidden under dappled light, ready to spook on light legs but with hard edges lurking just underneath--
"MOLLY YOU CHEATER!"
The man's attention flew from the floor to the door as Jester shoved back through.
Molly pulled his eyes away with a sigh. "Look, I did try--"
Jester ran up, instantly wrapping her muscular arms around the man's thin frame. "Hello! I am Jester!"
His entire body tensed like a dried fish and Jester's laughter filled the room. "Ah, yes, hello, it's-- I'm Caleb."
She dropped him, grinning at his flushed face as the others poured into the room with two cameras in tow. Jester slapped Caleb's shoulder under the ratty grey t-shirt. "Molly! Look at how handsome he is! Shame on you not saying."
Molly made sure the camera had the shot before winking at Caleb. "Shame on me." Caleb didn't seem to notice.
"He's not that handsome," Beau snorted, popping into the room and instantly kicking around the stray shirts, and jeans, and-- "Is this a cat sweater?"
"Pretty handsome," Fjord noted. He stepped closer, eyeing Caleb with a kind smile, but the man still couldn't seem to meet his gaze. "Really a damn shame what you've done to that hair you know?"
"My hair doesn't have feelings."
"No it don't, but it's hard packed with potential," Fjord grinned.
Molly caught Beau making full eye contact with the camera to roll her eyes. She kicked the cat sweater to Jester who instantly pulled it over her head with a delighted sound.
"So many books," Yasha muttered; this room was impossibly even more filled than the downstairs. The walls were lined, the closet was packed, the desk under the window was covered, there were even books around all the sides of the mattress where it sat on the floor, making them look like some kitschy bed frame.
"I think we can do something a little more charming with them, don't you?" Molly asked Yasha.
She nodded, eyeing the ceiling where water damage painted it all sorts of hideous colors.
"They're not meant to be charming," Caleb said. "They're meant to be books."
Molly clicked his tongue, eyes lighting up on the find in front of him. "How do I look?" He asked, turning around and putting the fake cat ears onto his head.
"I swear to god if I find a fursuit in this closet--" Beau started.
Caleb was blushing again. "I-- it was for Halloween."
"And now it's for Tuesday," Molly grinned.
He couldn't be sure, but for just a moment he thought Caleb start to smile.
It didn't take long to wrap up the first day shooting inside. He had a list of moments he knew he wanted to capture, both for the A Reel and B Reel. There was plenty to work with despite Caleb's wandering around like a lost ghost through purgatory. Fjord asked Caleb about his hygiene regiment which was met with nothing but an empty look. Yasha had found Nott's pair of cat ears in her room and indulged Molly in a few shared selfies. Beau made a good show of picking up random clothing from the floor, and tearing them in half, which was shockingly easy given how threadbare most were. Jester went into the bathroom and immediately screamed something about mouse tails before finding a few unlabeled mystery cans in the cabinets and making a bit out of the rest having to guess the contents.
The nominator, Nott, kept asking them questions about the process and when they'd get started and just how much they'd do. Molly tried to assure her she didn't need to be worried and that it would all turn out fine. They did manage to grab a pleasing amount of shots of her scrambling around the rooms like a crab without it's shell, showing Yasha especially all of the worst off parts of the house with something close to glee. Molly didn't blame her, the place was fairly awful and had all kinds of of potential. They'd have to set up a time tomorrow for her sit-down interview. It was a key part of the intro sequence, and he had altogether too many questions.
They took some final establishing shots as the sun began to set around the house. The crickets were piping up and Molly leaned back on his heels, taking in the evening. It had been a good day, but he had to admit Caleb worried him. The last thing he needed was for the show to come off as forced or manipulative, shoving change onto someone against their will or worse still without their consent. That didn't exactly gel with the easy-breezy feel good attitude that drove their view counts. He'd had to convince the producers to squeeze this episode in and if it didn't go well, well...
He'd been struggling for weeks about whether or not to tell the others just what a precarious situation they were in. It had been his lunch with the producers that draped such an ominous cloud on things and for all he knew they had no idea. Maybe that was for the best.
He looked over his shoulder towards to porch as the camera crew shouted back and forth and loaded up the van. Caleb was sitting on the stairs, watching it all with a dazed expression while Nott pointed out to Yasha where the roof was starting to sag. Caleb gazed out into space looking lost and quite frankly more than a little upset. Molly frowned. They'd had people on the show who were hesitant before, and shy certainly, but no one who seemed so outwardly miserable in the face of their attention. He'd have to nip that right away. The last thing he needed was coming back with an entire week of shooting they couldn't even use.
He strolled up to him as the crew finished packing the van and Jester dragged Fjord over to the train tracks. It was getting dark, indigo nipping at the edges of the world gone sunset gold around them. Molly tilted his head, despite standing right in front of him Caleb didn't even seem to notice him. Molly tried not to be offended, he wasn't particularly used to not being noticed.
"Hey," he said.
Caleb blinked, looking at him. "Oh. Ja?"
Molly tilted his head with a small smile. "Well?"
"... Well what?"
"How are you?"
Caleb had the distinct look of someone trying extremely hard not to roll their eyes. Despite himself Molly felt irritation prickle under his skin.
"Oh, wunderbar," Caleb said without breaking his monotone.
"Mmm, right, well you look just radiant," Molly said.
"I'm sure," Caleb sneered, "a group of strangers broke into my house and invaded my privacy and tore up my clothing, how else should I look?"
"Oh come now, you can't break in if you're invited."
Caleb didn't answer.
Molly sighed. "Look, I know the first day is a little rough, but it really does get better from here on out. By the time it's done I promise you'll be feeling properly 'wunderbar', everyone else does."
Caleb dragged his finger against some dirt on the steps. "I am not everyone else."
Molly frowned. "Well, no of course not, but that's always how things end up going. Kind of the point. I'm sure you'll feel better."
Caleb looked at him suddenly. "Why should I believe you?"
"What's that?"
"You're sure I'll feel better? Why should I believe that? This is how you make your money isn't it? Telling peaceful people there's something wrong with how they live, telling them they are unacceptable to society, and then prescribing a solution of suede lining and an eccentric prints?"
Molly was struck. He couldn't help it, part of him wanted to laugh while another part of him wanted to seethe and instead he was left altogether dumbstruck.
Caleb winced slightly. "I'm sorry." He didn't look it. He peered under the porch as if he was looking for something. "I'm sure it will make for a very good show as you say."
Molly was suddenly not so sure.
"Let's go, Molly!" Fjord's voice called. They were all piling back into the car. Yasha was still talking to Nott as they made their way to the drive, the others joked together as the camera van pulled away.
Molly cleared his throat, pulling his smile back on like a glove. "You'll have to go to the hotel in the morning."
"What?" Caleb looked up again.
"We're going to have to take the whole week with the house, so take whatever and you and Nott can stay there while Yasha does her work."
"That's not on the show."
"Apparently mostly the suede lining that makes for good TV," Molly said perhaps a bit too sharply. "Don't worry, it's a nice place in town, looks... quaint."
A fresh wash of misery slide down Caleb's face. He looked as if he wanted to argue but didn't.
"Yes?" Molly couldn't help his tone. "Good?"
Caleb continued to peer under the porch. "Ja. Good."
"Great." Molly turned on his heel and headed for the truck.
The rest of them rambled on behind him as the vehicle pulled away down the long dirt drive. Molly glanced into the rearview as they left just in time to see an orange cat slink out from under the porch and into Caleb's lap.
"Molly? Mollllllly!"
He turned. "Gods! Yes, what?"
Jester grinned from the backseat. "Which side do you want?"
"What're you talking about? What side?"
"Of the bet?"
"Jester thinks he's going to be the best result yet," Beau said. "I'm not so sure."
Molly let his shoulder collapse into the door. He was so tired suddenly, even irritated. He hated being irritated, he rarely was and it wasn't a good look on him. Which really only ended up making him even more irritated. "You shouldn't bet on this type of thing."
"Spoil-sport," Beau snorted.
"Put me down for a yes," Fjord said, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel as the white lights pooled on the dirt road that wound back to town. "There's a lot of potential."
"What about you, Yasha?" Jester asked.
Molly could practically feel Yasha's gaze boring into the back of his skull. She could always tell when he was off and he hated and loved her for it.
"What do you think Molly?" She asked.
Molly shut his eyes firmly, leaning back in the seat. "No comment."