Chapter Text
There wasn't much of a reaction to my rampage among the bar patrons. People would be like, "What happened to the tables and chairs?" "Steve got mad and busted 'em." "Oh, okay." Busting up stuff in a bar is apparently a thing that happens. Or at least, me busting up stuff in a bar.
I hadn't done so much gratuitously impactful redecorating in a long time. Never that much at once. Maybe a single chair at a time. A few individual occurrences of a fist through drywall. Only one set of knuckle prints in a fridge. And all that was long before Eorzea.
It shouldn't have happened this time. But Deputy Frank just ticked me off. He seemed bound and determined to get up in my business, and that included getting into my workshop. (Yeah, yeah, our workshop, but Tsu'na was taking it a lot less personally than I was, as far as I could tell.)
We practically rebuilt that rustbucket of a shed from the ground up. It was our project, our creation, and now Frank was telling us it's not our space. Not quite his, but as part of "inspecting the bar" he says he can go into it any time he wants.
So I guess I thought some of the tables and chairs in the Pit had his face on them.
Even though he had his face on him too, I managed to not punch it yesterday morning. He'd knocked on the workshop door just as I was finishing up a table, so when I opened the door I rolled it out right at him, making him dodge. I stopped, and we regarded each other.
"Mr. Hyurcat."
"Deputy."
"I'm here to inspect the shed."
"Understood."
We stood there a moment longer before he asked, "Would you mind getting that out of the way?"
I considered saying, Oh, no, this is where I'm installing it, sorry, but the resulting conversation might have made me reconsider my restraint, so I kept on rolling. "Close the door when you're done, please."
Sam watched me roll the first replacement table through the door. I could maybe have made replacements for all of the furniture the night before…I had the energy, certainly, but not the wood. So Tsu'na was out getting more wood while I was calmly and collectively building new furniture at less-than-superhuman speed.
Sam set a bottle of cider on the bar for me. I ambled over and climbed on a stool. "Thanks."
"Y'ain't a mean drunk, are ya? Still some tables that ain't smashed."
"I'll be good."
He nodded. "Ya know…I'm just gonna throw this out here…Maybe we can write up a lease?"
"Problems with ID," I muttered.
"Yeah, you said that. Ever gonna tell me what they are?"
Oh, it's simple. I'm effectively a clone of someone twice my age, so my unmarried name and my social security number and my fingerprints and my DNA and probably my retina pattern and all belong to him. Maybe my face too. Not sure what-all got changed in my cycle through Eorzea. So if anyone ever really checked me out they'd find I don't exist, or at least I shouldn't. "Probably not, sorry."
"I mean, it's just signin' a piece o' paper to wave in Frank's face. How much ID does that take?"
"Gotta file with the court house, don't we?"
"Only if there's a dispute. You plannin' on disputin' with me?"
I shrugged. "My father was a lawyer. He used to say a contract was for when, not if, things go wrong. Anyway, doesn't my identity need to be tied to this somehow? So when I do sue you for twenty million dollars they know it's me?"
"Signature?"
"Need something official to compare it to."
"Fingerprint?"
"Let's pretend that's not an option."
He studied me, but didn't quibble. "Photo?"
I thought about it. "Maybe. That gives me an idea. Back in a bit."
The library had a printer I could pay to use. I researched leases, did some editing, and printed out three copies. I took them back to the Pit.
Sam accepted a copy and started reading. "For an' in consideration of the sum of one dollar and other good an' valuable consideration, the undersigned party o' the first part, hereinafter referred to as 'Landlord'..." He went silent as he continued to read, then looked up at me. "You wrote this?"
"Bastardized something I found online."
"'Kay. So what're you doin' about ID?"
"Look at the last page."
I'd taken a selfie on my phone, transferred it to gphotos, and included it on the signature page of the lease as part of the page background. The signature lines went over the picture, so signing the lease meant signing the picture, which I think means acknowledging the picture as identity for the lease. I think. I Am Not A Lawyer.
"Huh. What about yer wife?"
"What about her?"
"You don't mention her in this."
"Uh…she's my wife. Community property?"
"Not in this state. 'Sides, ya got a marriage license to go with that ID you don't have?"
If I do, it's in Eorzean. Possibly even in Eorzea. "...Common law marriage?"
"Tell that to Frank."
I mumbled and grumbled and headed back to the library. Tsu'na was out in the woods, so I linkpearled her and asked her to send me a selfie. It came out nice and pastoral with the trees in the background.
When I got the new lease printed, she met Sam and me at May's grocery store, because apparently May was the town notary ("More hats than people in this town"). We all signed three copies ("One to file, one to keep and one to lose," as Dad used to say) and I handed Sam a dollar.
"So does this mean I can throw Frank out now?"
"Better to not let him in."
"Roger that."