Snippet #2240904

"So, how was class today?" Marisa's mother asked her. They were having an early supper today, since Belle had to help take care of some evening work at a nearby orphanage, Matthews' Home for the Parentless — an endearing nickname, don't you think? They said Matthews was blessed by gods, since he managed to build it by himself in about three months. A lot of people (roughly 99.98%, give or take), though, believed "they" were crazy. Gods didn't really exist!

"I punched a guy."

"Sounds like a good day to me," Kevin chuckled. His enjoyment of his wife's casserole was interrupted by a knock at the manor door. He answered it, but the guest took a minute to catch her breath before she started talking.

"Is the missus here? It's just a mess with all the stuff on the floor and I couldn't get the kids to calm down and pick up their?" Belle did the interrupting this time, and she already had her coat on.

"Did you at least leave Rufus to keep guard?" Rufus was a dog taken care of at the orphanage; a watch dog with a silver-studded collar, but he'd probably lick someone to death before he bit them.

"Yes—"

"Let's go, then." With that, the ladies left to attend to their business, and Kevin changed the subject to keep things lively while the rest of the family went back to dinner.

"Harvest Day is coming up soon. Did you think of anyone in particular this time around?" Every year, the second of the humans' biannual crops is healthy and huge through most settlements, so pretty much everything is sold in bulk, and everyone has extra money burning a hole in their pockets. As an (extremely) old tradition of thanking those non-existent gods for more than enough food to last through the winter months, humanity used their excess profit in the form of giving gifts and wishing each other an even greater next year about two months after the actual day of harvesting.

"Nope."

"That's right; you never do."

"I do!"

"Name one," he cockily told her. After a short pause to think, Marisa eventually came up with one.

"Alice!"

"The bodyguard doesn't count, squirt; she's family. Good try, though."