"fern bar": "an American slang term for an upscale or preppy (or yuppie) bar or tavern catering to singles, usually decorated with ferns or other greenery, as well as such decor as fake Tiffany lamps."

"preppy": "an American subculture associated with the alumni of college-preparatory schools in the Northeastern United States."

"yuppie": "short for 'young urban professional'; a term for a young professional person working in a city."

"Tiffany lamps": "a type of lamp with a camed glass shade designed by Louis Comfort Tiffany or colleagues, and made (in originals) in his design studio."

The lamps in the pictures in wikipedia are pretty. I never saw their like in Eorzea. Perhaps I will try to make one, after I make Tony's window.

Husband has been a sort of quiet tonight. He said things, but I think there are things he did not say.

I recognize this pattern.

This is the deer again.

Husband said he had not killed in his world before coming to Eorzea. In Eorzea he killed many things; we killed many things together.

But not here, in his world. Where he called things "real". Before meeting me, before coming back here, in this world he had not killed a deer. Or a pig. Or a cow. Or a gator.

Or a hyur.

Perhaps he had thought he was "home". Perhaps he thought this world would be different, that he would not need to kill. But he has killed many things here now. And now he insists he has helped kill people. I was the one who took action, but he is taking responsibility.

He said once before that someone who kills once is more accepting of the idea of killing as a way to solve a problem. Since he believes he helped kill people, perhaps he is more accepting of killing again, if it is needed.

I think he is changing. Perhaps I am helping him change, or causing him to.

I hope it is a good change.

He has not told me he killed anyone tonight, other than the ones "we" killed. I was not with him all evening.

After I spoke with Mr. Hartman at the diner, and Husband had made some plywood, we took the bus back to Tulsa and returned to Tony's school. The guards deputies police had come and had put thin yellow plastic strips over the window that did nothing to cover the space. Tony was sitting on a chair in the main room. He looked tired and confused.

I got him to show me to his cleaning supplies while Husband installed the plywood. Husband had already finished by the time we returned with a broom and vacuum. Tony did not seem to notice. We let him sit while we cleaned up broken glass. Most of the glass was inside the school, but there was some outside too that needed to be swept.

Glass is different from crystal. It is much sharper, especially when it is broken into long, thin pieces. Husband found an empty box in Tony's back room to hold the glass. I cut my fingers a few times while picking glass up, though I healed quickly enough.

Tony simply watched, or perhaps simply sat. When we were done cleaning, Husband told Tony to change into his regular clothes. He emerged looking more like a merchant than a fighter. Husband explained how he wanted things to happen.

"We'll go with you to the bar. You won't see us - we're good at not being noticed - but rest assured we'll be there."

"What do you mean, I won't see you?"

"Look at my wife."

I had already shifted to Ninja and Stealthed before Tony turned to look at me, or for me. While he stared, Husband did the same, so he was not to be seen when Tony turned back.

I left Stealth, but kept my Ninja gear. I rested my hand on Tony's shoulder, which made him jump. I told him, "We will be there. You will be safe."

He looked at my black armor and daggers, and turned to see Husband wearing similar gear. "You're...ninjas?"

"Among other things," said Husband. "So let's go over what you're going to say..."

We followed Tony in Stealth to what Chester had called a "fern bar". It was much nicer than The Pit, or Murrays, or any tavern I remember from Eorzea. It had more tables, separated by small walls with plants which might have been ferns on top of them, perhaps meant as curtains for privacy. I saw lights on the tables, though none looked like tiffany lamps. Most of the tables had two people at them, usually a man and a woman.

Tony went to the bar, which was not very crowded. He ordered something called a "mojito" ("white rum, sugar, lime juice, soda water and mint") and sipped slowly at it when it came.

No one approached Tony for a while. He had almost finished his drink when a man came to him. I recognized him...it was Clive, the head of the bandits from Myra's fights. I looked to Husband, who nodded; he recognized Clive too.

There were other stools not being used, but Clive took a stool next to Tony and ordered a drink of his own ("bourbon, neat": "room temperature bourbon in a lowball glass"), before he turned to Tony and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey there. Didn't we talk last week?"

Tony slowly looked up at him. "Yeah. Think so."

Clive studied Tony's face. "You okay? More trouble with those people?"

Tony looked down at his drink. "Someone shot out my front window."

"Really? When?"

"This afternoon."

"That's terrible! Was anyone hurt?"

"No. Just the window."

"Oh. Well, that's...something. And no one caught in the crossfire?"

"Just the window."

"Huh. Did they catch whoever did it?"

"They're dead."

"...What?"

"Police said they crashed their car or something."

"That's...huh. So...what are you going to do now?"

"Dunno. Get it fixed, I guess. Trying not to think about it."

"Right, sure." Clive gestured to the bartender. "Hey, another round for my friend here. Look, I gotta get going, but...you hang in there, okay?"

Tony nodded and stared at his drink. Clive patted his back and got up. I got Husband's attention and pointed to myself, then at Clive. He nodded.

As Clive moved away from the bar and I followed him, I saw Husband shifting to Earth normal and leaning in to talk to Tony.

Clive walked along the street until he came to a large car, like the trucks in Wyatt but covered in the back rather than open. I could not see an easy way to enter it and wondered if I would need to follow him with the goobbue. But as he opened the door his phone rang and he paused to answer it. I used the moment to slip past him into the car.

"Yeah?...Yeah, I heard...Yeah, but you didn't do the job...Yeah, but they didn't hit anyone. They didn't pull it off...Hey, it's not my fault they can't drive! They didn't do what I...But you didn't...But...I..."

Clive listened silently for a moment, then seemed to sag. "No. No, I don't want that. I'll have your money."

He stopped talking on the phone. He leaned against the car. I could hear him breathing heavily.

Then he got in, started the car and drove. He left the city and went to what Husband called the "suburbs", with streets of small houses and yards. His hands on the wheel looked tense. His face was not quite as miserable as Tony's, but was similar.

He drove into the small street in front of one house and turned off the car. He simply sat in the car for a while, looking out through the front window. I do not think he was looking at anything. Then he got out, closed the car door and walked toward the house.

I did not have time to get out behind him. I opened the door on my side as quietly as I could, and left it open rather than make noise closing it. He did not notice the open door as he unlocked the door to the house.

I was able to slip in behind him as he stood for a moment in the doorway. I could hear young children playing somewhere. A woman in the house, who I think is Clive's wife, looked up as she was walking toward the back; she gave him a small smile and kept on going.

I followed Clive to his kitchen, where he got a beer bottle out of a fridge. He opened it and took it to another room with a television. He turned the television on and changed shows until he found one showing news. He settled on the couch in front of the television to watch.

I moved behind the couch, drew a dagger and put it in front of his throat. "Are you looking for me, Clive?"

He jumped a little when I spoke, but held still under my blade. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You had people shoot at me. I thought we should talk about that. What did I tell you about not fucking with me?"

"Get out of my house."

"I do not think you can tell me what to do, Clive. I have told you to leave me alone, and you have not done that. What must I do to make you leave me alone?"

He squirmed slightly, but did not answer.

"I know where you live now. I have seen your family. Do you care about your family? Do you want them to find you dead on this couch? Is that what must happen?"

He still did not answer. It made me angry. Could this hyur try to have me killed and then think he could ignore me? I pressed my dagger slightly more firmly to his throat. "Answer me, you eftbegotten worm!"

The woman from before appeared in the doorway. "Hon, are you..." She stopped and stared at me with wide eyes. "Who are you?"

"I am the woman this man tried to have killed because he lost money betting against me."

"You...he..." Her face showed fear and shock and confusion before settling on anger directed at Clive. "You've been gambling? Again? You said you stopped!"

"...I..."

"How much money have you lost this time?" She looked up at me. "How much does he owe you?"

"I am not here for money. I am here because he tried to have me killed. He owes other people money."

She looked as angry as I felt. Perhaps making women angry is Clive's strongest skill. "We almost lost the house last time! You said you would stop! We can't take out any more loans!"

I decided it was time to go. I had said what I could. That woman, probably Clive's wife, could take up the job of berating him.

I withdrew my dagger and came around the couch. Clive and the woman stayed where they were, facing each other across the room. I stopped to say to the woman, "Keep him away from me if you want him to live." I could not tell from her face if that was in fact what she wanted right then.

As I closed the house door behind me I could hear her shouting at him again. I did not stay to hear what she was saying. I had had enough of Clive and simply wanted to go home.

I Returned and settled at the house to type this up. My map says Husband is at the diner, likely cleaning. I will leave him a note to read this when he gets back. I will try to use sleep to forget about Clive.

* * * * * * *

I woke to have Husband holding me. It was what I needed. When he woke he asked me about my writing. "Eftbegotten worm?"

"I imagined a worm coming out of an eft with its shite."

"Ah. Look up schistosomiasis."

"Do I truly want to?"

"Probably not."