If he wasn’t a supernatural Lord of the Fae, Conor was fairly certain his spine would have just been popped back into line by the force of the hug.
“Oh hunny is been a dawgs age since you came in here!” The hugger was a large and vibrant black woman named Teresa Williams, she owned Joe Mama’s BBQ.
She let go of the hug, holding Conor at arm’s length smiling. “Lookitchoo! All dressed up fine. It ain’t the weekend hunny so I know ya not lookin’ to play. Can I get y’all some lunch?”
Several patrons were looking at Conor and the owner of the restaurant with smiles. Conor and Teresa were both standing near the front counter. He was wearing Armani, she was wearing a flower print cotton dress and an apron covered in BBQ sauce stains. Roxie was nearby in her black chauffeur’s uniform, minus the hat.
“That would be great Mrs. Williams, aye. Two of what I always get, if that’s alright?” Conor sat down at the nearest table, motioning for his driver, Roxie to do the same.
As Teresa turned to go she chuckled, “I swear I ain’ neva gonna get dat accent. It’s somethin’ else! Two lunch specials comin’ up!”
As she did she looked around the tiny restaurant taking in the smells and sounds. It was lunchtime, midweek, in downtown Dallas, though the two seemed a bit dressed up for the casual nature of the place… their clothing wasn’t completely out of place.
She whispered, “My Lo… Mr. O’Neill, shall I wait in the car?”
Conor waved dismissively, “No no, we’ll grab lunch an’ I have something to do here. Ye like BBQ I hope?”
Roxie grinned mischieviously, “A foodstuff made of flame, heat, and smoke… passionately beloved by nearly everyone in a major part of this country… nevermind a cultural icon of this state… yes, Mr. O’Neill I like it very much.”
Teresa came back out with two glasses full of dark bubbly soda. “He’s ya Dr. Peppers. Conor hunny you get a real job finally?” She was looking over his suit.
He grinned, “I did in a manner of speakin’. I did. Though I still play music from time to time.”
She looked over at Roxie, then looked back at Conor with a knowing look. “Well I’ll let you two get on wit’ ya bizness, food’ll be right up.”
She leaned down conspiratorially, whispering in his ear. “Dis one’s even prettier dan da redhead from last time.” With a playful slap on his shoulder she walked off back to the kitchen.
Roxie’s coy smile indicated she had overheard what Teresa said perfectly.
They sipped their beverages until the food arrived; beautifully cooked ribs, green beans, and Conor’s preferred “second vegetable” … cobbler. Of course, the cobbler substitution was an undocumental feature of Teresa’s menu. The topic of lunchtime conversation was Conor’s up coming schedule of meetings with various mortals for various reasons. Driving destinations and times were being ironed out and finalized.
As they ate, Conor wasn’t sure, but he was fairly certain that Roxie was using Glamour to keep clean… either that or the Fae had ways of eating BBQ sauce slathered ribs that was completely alien to mortality.
When it was ironed out, Roxie once again said a phrase she was fond of using when they were discussing things in ‘Boss/Employee’ mode, “Whatever you require, my Lord” (except this time, due to being in public, she substituted ‘Mr. O’Neill’ for her usual ‘My Lord’).
Conor had just finished the cobbler and, feeling playful, he inquired with a smirk, “Require or desire?”
The smouldering expression that he got from Roxie actually made him blink, it was an unearthly combination of desire, mischief, and … cute.
She leaned in conspiratorially over the table, Conor mirrored the motion. They were now only a foot or so from each other, well within whispering distance in spite of the noise.
“As I said at the beginning of my service… The Duke has tasked me to perform whatever you require.” The emphasis she placed on ‘whatever’ made it clear any possible connotation of the word was included. He also noted that she used the exact same inflection every time she had said that phrase in the entire time of their acquaintance. “That is the extent of my feal obligation to the Duke…”
Conor interjected the unspoken word, “But?”
“…but it would be a joy to me – insofar as I am able – to fulfill any desire of yours as well my Lord. Where desire and requirement intersect, so much the better… for me.”
He was speechless for a few heartbeats, “Aye, you’re a danger sure.” He then leaned back in his chair with a bemused expression.
She leaned back as well, a coy blink her only reply. About that time Teresa returned to gather up trays, plates, cups and whatnot.
After the table was cleared she returned again, “Can I getcha anything else hun?”
Conor stood up, “Yes actually. I’d like to discuss a matter of business with you an’ your fine husband… somethin’ along the lines of a special caterin’ job.”
Teresa invited Conor over to the main window between the dining room and the kitchen, her husband John came over. Conor then produced from his inner coat jacket pocket a check from his newly organized corporation.
"Mister an’ Missus Williams ye’ve always been good to me, even when I was at me poorest. I’d like now to help ye out as well. You see, from time to time I may need caterin’ services an’ – hopefully even more rarely – the services of a trained medical professional like your young fella is trainin’ to become. So, I’d like to prepay for all this in a single check if it’s all right."
He then handed the check to Teresa who took one look at the amount and staggered back into the wall, her left hand over her heart. “Conor hunny are you bein’ serious right now?!”
He nodded with a smile, “Aye. It’s not charity mind, I’m repayin’ kindness an’ prepaying for services down the road that I may call upon some day. Use it for your son’s schoolin’ – think of it as a scholarship if you like; administered by yourselves.”
Both Teresa and John were still speechless.
“One last thing, an’ then I must be off. If your young man can manage it with his grades to get into medical school, I’ll help ye both with the costs.”
Teresa was finally able to speak, “Conor, we, we can’t take this, it’s too much hunny.” She started to hand back the check.
He then closed both his hands around hers, crumpling the check slightly but making sure it stayed in her grasp.
“Teresa, prayers are heard an’ answered my dear lady. Let them be. Besides, ye’d hurt my feelin’s if ye refused.” With one of his crooked smiles, he then let go of her hands. “All right?”
She handed the check to her still flabberghasted husband who looked at it like it was a three headed calf.
After wiping away a tear from her eyes she gave Conor another massive hug, “Bless you hun. Bless you.” The hug itself must have lasted a minute or more.
Later in the car, Conor balanced the stack of styrofoam to-go boxes full of food that he’d been forced to take with him.
Roxie looked back at him through the rearview mirror as they came to a red light, “You enjoyed that tremendously did you not, my Lord?”
He sat back looking out the window, “The Silverhand said I had to live as befittin’ my station … you know the old stories where a mortal of faith an’ kindness helps a perfect stranger, by giving them food an’ drink… when others just ignored the stranger or were even cruel?”
She nodded.
“Later on you find out the stranger was a Fae in disguise.”
She smiled, “I have heard many stories of that kind.”
Conor continued to stare out the window as Dallas rolled by, “What’s the point of being a Noble of the Summer Court if I can’t at least in a small way, do the same?”
Roxie turned the car, getting back on a service road to rejoin the main interstate. “I suppose there would be no point at all my Lord.”
“Oh hunny is been a dawgs age since you came in here!” The hugger was a large and vibrant black woman named Teresa Williams, she owned Joe Mama’s BBQ.
She let go of the hug, holding Conor at arm’s length smiling. “Lookitchoo! All dressed up fine. It ain’t the weekend hunny so I know ya not lookin’ to play. Can I get y’all some lunch?”
Several patrons were looking at Conor and the owner of the restaurant with smiles. Conor and Teresa were both standing near the front counter. He was wearing Armani, she was wearing a flower print cotton dress and an apron covered in BBQ sauce stains. Roxie was nearby in her black chauffeur’s uniform, minus the hat.
“That would be great Mrs. Williams, aye. Two of what I always get, if that’s alright?” Conor sat down at the nearest table, motioning for his driver, Roxie to do the same.
As Teresa turned to go she chuckled, “I swear I ain’ neva gonna get dat accent. It’s somethin’ else! Two lunch specials comin’ up!”
As she did she looked around the tiny restaurant taking in the smells and sounds. It was lunchtime, midweek, in downtown Dallas, though the two seemed a bit dressed up for the casual nature of the place… their clothing wasn’t completely out of place.
She whispered, “My Lo… Mr. O’Neill, shall I wait in the car?”
Conor waved dismissively, “No no, we’ll grab lunch an’ I have something to do here. Ye like BBQ I hope?”
Roxie grinned mischieviously, “A foodstuff made of flame, heat, and smoke… passionately beloved by nearly everyone in a major part of this country… nevermind a cultural icon of this state… yes, Mr. O’Neill I like it very much.”
Teresa came back out with two glasses full of dark bubbly soda. “He’s ya Dr. Peppers. Conor hunny you get a real job finally?” She was looking over his suit.
He grinned, “I did in a manner of speakin’. I did. Though I still play music from time to time.”
She looked over at Roxie, then looked back at Conor with a knowing look. “Well I’ll let you two get on wit’ ya bizness, food’ll be right up.”
She leaned down conspiratorially, whispering in his ear. “Dis one’s even prettier dan da redhead from last time.” With a playful slap on his shoulder she walked off back to the kitchen.
Roxie’s coy smile indicated she had overheard what Teresa said perfectly.
They sipped their beverages until the food arrived; beautifully cooked ribs, green beans, and Conor’s preferred “second vegetable” … cobbler. Of course, the cobbler substitution was an undocumental feature of Teresa’s menu. The topic of lunchtime conversation was Conor’s up coming schedule of meetings with various mortals for various reasons. Driving destinations and times were being ironed out and finalized.
As they ate, Conor wasn’t sure, but he was fairly certain that Roxie was using Glamour to keep clean… either that or the Fae had ways of eating BBQ sauce slathered ribs that was completely alien to mortality.
When it was ironed out, Roxie once again said a phrase she was fond of using when they were discussing things in ‘Boss/Employee’ mode, “Whatever you require, my Lord” (except this time, due to being in public, she substituted ‘Mr. O’Neill’ for her usual ‘My Lord’). Conor had just finished the cobbler and, feeling playful, he inquired with a smirk, “Require or desire?”
The smouldering expression that he got from Roxie actually made him blink, it was an unearthly combination of desire, mischief, and … cute.
She leaned in conspiratorially over the table, Conor mirrored the motion. They were now only a foot or so from each other, well within whispering distance in spite of the noise.
“As I said at the beginning of my service… The Duke has tasked me to perform whatever you require.” The emphasis she placed on ‘whatever’ made it clear any possible connotation of the word was included. He also noted that she used the exact same inflection every time she had said that phrase in the entire time of their acquaintance. “That is the extent of my feal obligation to the Duke…”
Conor interjected the unspoken word, “But?”
“…but it would be a joy to me – insofar as I am able – to fulfill any desire of yours as well my Lord. Where desire and requirement intersect, so much the better… for me.”
He was speechless for a few heartbeats, “Aye, you’re a danger sure.” He then leaned back in his chair with a bemused expression.
She leaned back as well, a coy blink her only reply. About that time Teresa returned to gather up trays, plates, cups and whatnot.
After the table was cleared she returned again, “Can I getcha anything else hun?”
Conor stood up, “Yes actually. I’d like to discuss a matter of business with you an’ your fine husband… somethin’ along the lines of a special caterin’ job.”
Teresa invited Conor over to the main window between the dining room and the kitchen, her husband John came over. Conor then produced from his inner coat jacket pocket a check from his newly organized corporation.
"Mister an’ Missus Williams ye’ve always been good to me, even when I was at me poorest. I’d like now to help ye out as well. You see, from time to time I may need caterin’ services an’ – hopefully even more rarely – the services of a trained medical professional like your young fella is trainin’ to become. So, I’d like to prepay for all this in a single check if it’s all right." He then handed the check to Teresa who took one look at the amount and staggered back into the wall, her left hand over her heart. “Conor hunny are you bein’ serious right now?!”
He nodded with a smile, “Aye. It’s not charity mind, I’m repayin’ kindness an’ prepaying for services down the road that I may call upon some day. Use it for your son’s schoolin’ – think of it as a scholarship if you like; administered by yourselves.”
Both Teresa and John were still speechless.
“One last thing, an’ then I must be off. If your young man can manage it with his grades to get into medical school, I’ll help ye both with the costs.”
Teresa was finally able to speak, “Conor, we, we can’t take this, it’s too much hunny.” She started to hand back the check.
He then closed both his hands around hers, crumpling the check slightly but making sure it stayed in her grasp.
“Teresa, prayers are heard an’ answered my dear lady. Let them be. Besides, ye’d hurt my feelin’s if ye refused.” With one of his crooked smiles, he then let go of her hands. “All right?”
She handed the check to her still flabberghasted husband who looked at it like it was a three headed calf.
After wiping away a tear from her eyes she gave Conor another massive hug, “Bless you hun. Bless you.” The hug itself must have lasted a minute or more.
Later in the car, Conor balanced the stack of styrofoam to-go boxes full of food that he’d been forced to take with him.
Roxie looked back at him through the rearview mirror as they came to a red light, “You enjoyed that tremendously did you not, my Lord?”
He sat back looking out the window, “The Silverhand said I had to live as befittin’ my station … you know the old stories where a mortal of faith an’ kindness helps a perfect stranger, by giving them food an’ drink… when others just ignored the stranger or were even cruel?”
She nodded.
“Later on you find out the stranger was a Fae in disguise.”
She smiled, “I have heard many stories of that kind.”
Conor continued to stare out the window as Dallas rolled by, “What’s the point of being a Noble of the Summer Court if I can’t at least in a small way, do the same?”
Roxie turned the car, getting back on a service road to rejoin the main interstate. “I suppose there would be no point at all my Lord.”
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