I fell off the barstool.

There was little else to do.

The shock wore off, and I scrambled to stand, and experienced a wave of dizziness as a result. Immediately, I sank to my knees to avoid falling over again.

"You alright?"

I focused on a worn poster of The Thing, while the thing masquerading as my papa wrapped a hand around my arm to help me stand. Its touch woke me up, and I lashed out with my dagger, a fine line of blood welling up on its forearm.

"Conyo, feisty like your mother," it chuckled, still not releasing me.

"Let go!" I punctuated the request by kicking him in the face.

His head snapped back, and his hand left my arm, though he seemed barely affected by the blow.

No one around us had moved. They continued sipping their drinks and speaking in low voices, oblivious to the ruckus in the middle of the bar.

Still on the ground, I panted out, "What are you?"

He grinned, arm outstretched. "Think you're the only one who has dreams?"

Reluctantly, I took his hand.

~*~

"How's your mother?" he asked me after downing a shot of tequila.

I stared at him, tracing the rim of my glass with my finger. After a few more drawn out moments, I answered, "She's fine."

He bit into a lime, pulling a face until he licked the salt from his hand. "But you're not sure?"

"I---," I shook my head and drank some beer. "Who are you, really?"

I was still prepared to kill him, but the urge was subsiding as the minutes ticked by. In the back of my mind, I was also reminded to hurry home to Rafe.

"I keep telling you. One might ask, why do you look like your sister?"

I'd been waiting for the question. If he was truly my father, he would know I wasn't Imogen, not anymore. Or he was a clairvoyant Djiin. One way to be sure.

I grabbed him by the chin and evaluated his eyes. No weird reflective properties.

Then, I leaned in for a big whiff. No stench, discounting cheap cologne.

I pushed him away from me, and he chuckled.

"I'm mostly human, like you," he said. He took a deep breath and added, "Feel free to call me Jose if Papa is too weird right now."

I laughed. Couldn't help it.

"I imagine this is all very strange to you, but imagine how I feel."

That stalled the gaiety. I assessed him again, searching for a likeness. He and I shared the same thick, arching eyebrows, natural brown complexion, and dimpled cheeks. Surfacey details that didn't quite convince me. Then I noticed him resting his head in his hand, a mirror action of what I was doing.

All right. Still not enough, but definitely annoying.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

In my experience, fathers never showed up all willy nilly for good reasons. Think of when Luke learned about his father; a definite bad sitch right there. Or the two-faced dude in The Stepfather.

I was aware not all dads were bad, but my life didn't invite the likes of Ethan Hawke in Boyhood or Lawrence Fishbourne in Boyz in Da Hood. No, with my luck I'd have Jack Nicholson from The Shining.

Jose's smile widened, and I had no trouble imagining him declaring, "Here's Johnny!"

He shifted in his chair and watched me, and I thought it entirely possible that he was reading my mind.

"Niña, I'm here to help you, and your husband." The shock on my face must've amused him, 'cause he heaped on with, "Congrats, by the way!"

~*~