sparrow through the heart
Here's something of a longer chapter. With a touch of violence.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight
12. Flit.
Flit sat in the kitchen with his broken arm propped awkwardly on the table, nursing his fifth cup of coffee, and told himself he was being absurd. He should just go to bed. He didn't need to wait up for Talon so he could find out how the date had gone.
Besides, it might have gone so well he'd wind up waiting until tomorrow morning.
He stared down morosely into his coffee cup.
He didn't want to imagine how much fun Talon and Robin were having. Flit knew firsthand Robin was a great bird - funny, smart, talented. Talon couldn't help but like him. And Robin could make Talon happy. They'd be a cute couple. A perfect couple.
He pushed his coffee away and sighed. He needed to get over this silly infatuation. He was a professional, and his job was to find Talon a nice bird to help him get over Zip, someone who could appreciate him and take care of him and love him like he deserved.
Someone who was emphatically not Flit.
It was just strange, that was all. He hadn't really been honestly attracted to anyone in a long time, and it was throwing him for a loop. He'd lived alone since - well, since college, really, and he didn't want to think about life before that. His forced cohabitation with Talon - and all right, yes, he was the one forcing it, beside the point - was unusual. Living practically in Talon's pocket, getting to know him - it was situational attraction. It would pass.
His head jerked up when he heard the front door open. He straightened and plastered a bored expression on his face. He couldn't stop himself from pulling the coffee close again and tapping his fingers on the rim of the mug.
Talon's low voice rumbled down the hallway; Flit heard Robin's pleasant tenor, and Talon's grumbling laughter, then the jingle of keys thrown into the bowl by the door. He waited, tense, for Talon to invite Robin inside, but the door shut and only one pair of feet made their way down the hall.
Talon walked into the kitchen and stopped short when he saw Flit. "Uh," Talon said. "Hey, spar - Flit. You're up."
"No," Flit said, "I'm not."
Talon frowned. "What?"
"I'm sleepwalking. And when I sleepwalk, I make coffee and sit in the kitchen and drink it."
Talon's frown deepened into a scowl. "Funny." He brushed past Flit, making sure to knock his shoulder as he did. "Did you leave any for me?"
"Maybe," Flit said, sniffing disdainfully, hoping to hide his racing heartbeat as he brought his mug up to his lips to take another sip. "You're home early."
"Yeah, well," Talon replied, his back to Flit as he poured a cup of coffee, "quick sex in an alley doesn't take that long."
"What!" Flit squawked, his hand spasming. Coffee sloshed over the side, scalding his fingers, and he quickly set the mug down, wiping his hands on his trouser leg.
Talon turned around and smirked as he blew on his coffee. "Sorry, I'm not the kind of bird to kiss and tell."
Flit pressed his lips together. "Oh really? You certainly had no problem when you came home drunk with that under aged tart on your arm."
Talon's expression snapped back into a scowl, and he stepped forward with a dark look.
Flit winced, already expecting the customary smack to the back of the head, and Talon just - stopped.
A peculiar expression came over Talon's face. "Shut up, sparrow," he grumbled, leaning back against the counter. He took a long drink of coffee and appeared uncharacteristically sulky. "You're not my mom."
"No," Flit said. "But I could always call her up."
Talon took two steps forward this time with his hand half-raised before he stopped and visibly calmed himself. "Do it and die," he growled instead.
Flit tilted his head. Was Talon actually restraining himself? Perhaps sex did put him in a better mood. He cleared his throat. "Did you and Robin at least have a nice time before the . . . alley sex?"
"Yeah," Talon replied, smirk back in place. "It's amazing how much I want to kill your friends way less than you."
Flit blinked and turned his head away, distracting himself by taking another sip of coffee. "Are you planning on seeing him again?"
"No," Talon said.
Flit turned around to stare at him. "But why?"
Talon shrugged one shoulder. "Not my type."
"Oh," Flit said. "Just your type enough to have sex with, I see. What, exactly, about Robin is not your type?"
"Why do you care?" Talon asked suspiciously, setting his mug down.
"So I know what to look for," Flit replied evenly. "For the next date. The more information I have the better."
"No way," Talon said. "I don't want any more dates."
"Mhm," Flit said. "So you say."
Talon slammed his mug into the sink, rattling the dishes. "I mean it, sparrow. I don't need you fixing me up. I can get my own tail. It's late, I'm going to bed." He stomped from the room.
Flit waited until he heard Talon's door bang shut.
"Good night," he said softly.
----
After a somewhat sleepless night, he woke first the next morning, like usual, and made sure to set a pot of coffee brewing for Talon. The griffin was more part-bear than part-lion before he'd had his caffeine. Not that most people could really tell the difference between early morning grumpy Talon and regular grumpy Talon.
Flit thought he might be getting a little too involved because he could tell the difference.
He eyed the recipe book Beaky had given him and flipped it open to the section on breakfast foods. Beaky had put a tiny star next to 'Wildseed Pancakes,' so Flit cracked his knuckles and got to work.
Talon stumbled into the kitchen half-dressed an hour later, just as Flit was flipping the pancakes onto a large platter.
"Good morning," Flit said primly, trying not to stare at the way Talon's sweatpants rode low on his angular hips. His chest was covered in fine, blond hair that trailed sharply down his muscled abdomen.
Flit wondered if the hair felt soft or crinkly and burned himself on the skillet in his distraction. He hissed softly and shook his fingers, wincing at the sting.
Talon yawned so wide his jaw cracked. "Gnh," he grunted intelligently, heading straight for the coffee pot. He got a mug out of the cabinet and poured himself a cup, foregoing sugar or cream to down it black.
Flit busied himself flipping the last of the pancakes and turning off the stove as he tried to wipe the fond smile from his face. "Did you want syrup on your pancakes?"
Talon turned around, the mug cradled possessively to his chest, and cocked his hip against the counter. He didn't seem entirely awake.
"Oh, you, uh - breakfast," Talon said. He scratched his jaw. "You made breakfast."
Flit studied Talon in confusion. "I always make you breakfast."
Talon looked startled. "Yeah," he said. And then again, more slowly, as he stared at Flit. ". . . Yeah. You do."
Flit shrugged slightly, feeling embarrassed and exposed, as he carried the plate of pancakes to the kitchen table and set the syrup bottle down next to it. "I cook for myself. It's easy enough to cook for two."
Talon poured himself a refill of coffee, eyes never leaving Flit. "Right," he agreed.
They ate in oddly comfortable silence.
----
Talon acted strangely the rest of the weekend, watching Flit when he thought Flit wasn't looking, not speaking much. When he did address Flit, there was a curious, contemplative tone to his voice, like he was figuring something out. Flit wished he knew what was going on in Talon's head.
He busied himself with next week's column and avoided Talon, although he did notice Talon slip away for several hours on Sunday. When Talon returned he seemed to be in a much more cheerful mood. He knocked and came into Flit's bedroom, peering over his shoulder. "Whatcha doin'?"
Flit glanced at him sideways, but didn't stop typing on his laptop. "Working on my next piece of worthless advice for the public, as you would say."
Talon chuckled. He moved away and sat down on Flit's bed. What in the clouds was he doing? Flit could just see from the corner of his eye as Talon flopped backward, sprawled out on the mattress. Now there was a nice picture. "Oh yeah?" Talon said. "What's this week's crisis?"
Flit's fingers hovered over the keyboard. "A young quail wants to know if she should give her philandering rooster husband another chance."
"Definitely not," Talon said. "If you screw up like that, you don't get another chance."
"But what if he really loves her and it was a mistake?"
"It wasn't," Talon said firmly. "He'd keep his cockadoodle in his pants if he loved her. He wouldn't hurt the person he loved. And she should leave his ass for her own good."
"Yes, well," Flit said more sharply than he intended, "sometimes people don't always do what's best for them. She might believe he'll change and that he won't hurt her like that again. "
He saw Talon sit up quickly on the bed. "That so? And if he does?"
Flit took a deep breath and began typing again. Old wounds stung if you poked at them too much. "Then hopefully she'll leave him rather than continue in a destructive relationship."
"Yeah," Talon said. "So what are you gonna tell her?"
Flit paused again. "That she needs to make a decision. If she loves her husband, and she thinks she can forgive him, she should allow him another chance. But there are no such things as third chances. If he cheats on her again, she should leave him."
"So you'd give him the benefit of the doubt," Talon said, "Because you're a big chick. And a hopeless romantic."
Flit finally looked at Talon, feeling nettled. "It doesn't kill you to be optimistic. People make mistakes, you know."
"Sure," Talon said. "And in my world, if you make a mistake, you take your lumps. You don't get a do over."
Flit ground his teeth together. It was no use talking to Talon - he always thought he was right, no matter what.
"You ever get questions about abuse?" Talon asked abruptly. "Like, if that rooster were smacking her around would you tell her to give him another chance?"
Flit's fingers froze for a split second, and he knew Talon saw it, knew he heard Flit's tiny intake of breath. "I don't - no. If he were abusing her, I'd advise her to leave."
"Even if he didn't mean to? Even if it only happened once?"
"Yes," Flit said quietly. "In my experience, it never only happens once."
". . . in your experience?" Talon asked, his voice oddly low.
Flit cleared his throat. "As a professional ornipsychiatrist."
Talon didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Guess you'd know," he said eventually.
"Yes," Flit said, thankful Talon didn't realize how close to the truth he was, and turned back to the computer. "Was there something else you needed or can I get back to work?"
Talon scratched absently at his chest, looking down. "Don't think I ever said sorry. For, uh, trying to kill you when we met."
Flit barked out a surprised laugh and swiveled fully around. "What?"
Talon scowled. "I'm not gonna say it again."
"Well, don't think an apology gets you your flight feather back," Flit said, arching an eyebrow. Talon was acting rather bizarrely out of character. Perhaps he was trying the honey versus vinegar approach.
"Fuck you, sparrow, I hope that quail doesn't take your advice," Talon said. Ah, there was the vinegar he was used to. "And shit, see if I'm ever nice to you again," Talon finished grumpily. He planted his feet on the floor and stood up, flexing his hands.
"Do warn me if you plan to be," Flit said, laughing lightly. "I'll need to prepare myself for the shock."
Talon grumbled something under his breath and walked out, and Flit very purposefully pushed the conversation from his mind. He had a column to finish, and then several potential suitors to weed through for Talon.
He was so looking forward to that. He sighed.
----
13. Talon.
"Hey, guys," Talon said, strolling into the precinct on Monday.
He was greeted by a chorus of hellos and a deep Yo from Stone.
"Got a thing," he said, his grin sharp, as he hopped up to sit on the edge of his desk and patted the paper he'd brought with him. He hadn't been able to wait until Monday; he'd come in yesterday to run Prey's name through the system. "Could be fun, if anyone wants to help."
Stone sauntered over first, maneuvering his bulky frame between the desks. Talon was the biggest guy in the squadron, if you didn’t count Stone, because Stone was practically his own squadron. "Yeah? Blood gonna be involved?"
"Be sad if it isn't," Talon replied easily, his grin growing wider.
"Nice," Stone said. "I'm in. Who's the perp?"
Talon handed him the paper and waited while Stone read through. Stone arched a thick, dark eyebrow and looked up with a low whistle, rubbing a hand over his head. His hair was longer than Talon's regulation buzz, but not by much. "Damn, this guy's a piece of shit. Seven accounts of battery? How'd he keep getting out of it?"
"No one was willing to press charges. And he has money."
Stone grunted and shook his head, scanning the report again. "Fucking shame. Hey, says here this first victim took out a restraining order, his name's -"
Stone stopped and glanced up at Talon.
Talon looked back calmly.
"Huh," Stone said, breaking eye contact first. "Name's familiar. Just can't place it."
"Good," Talon said.
Stone paused, his eyebrow creeping upward again. "How's your roommate these days?" he asked pointedly, just to be an asshole.
"Fine," Talon said, acknowledging Stone's warning with a dip of his head. Bringing your personal life to the job was frowned upon, to put it mildly. "Regular Suzy Songbird."
"Thought he was Penny Pinfeather?"
"Thought I told you never to say that name in front of me."
Stone laughed, the sound reverberating deeply across the room. Several other Beakbreakers looked up. "When you wanna head out?" he asked, slapping Talon on the back.
"Got some paperwork to finish first from the bust the team did last week." Talon grimaced, jerking his thumb toward a pile of papers on the corner of his desk. He would've been more pissed at being stuck with hours of deskwork, but he had plans to relieve some tension later.
"Right," Stone said. "Think there'll be a report for this?" he asked, setting the paper with Prey's information down on Talon's desk.
"Nah," Talon said. "We're just going to have a little chat with the guy, right? Nothing official. We might not even need our badges."
"Sure," Stone said easily. "No need for paperwork. I hate that shit."
"Exactly," Talon said, flashing a toothy smile.
Stone's answering smile was just as toothy.
----
Talon shrugged on his beat-up brown leather flight jacket as he and Stone walked out the precinct door that afternoon. Stone had on a similar jacket, but his was black and new because he was kind of a flash bastard.
"Nice threads," Talon commented.
"Shut up," Stone said easily, punching Talon's shoulder. "You're sufferin' from the green-beaked monster, my friend."
Talon rolled his eyes and grinned. "Whatever. Ready to go have a friendly talk with Mr Prey?"
Stone rotated his shoulders and rolled his neck from side to side. "You know me, Tal. I love talking."
----
Prey's house was more like a ramshackle cottage. For somebody with money, it looked like he lived in his own droppings. The shutters hung off the windows like flaps of dead skin, and the paint was peeling. The steps up to the small front porch were bent and humped from the elements, washed to gray wood. Trash littered the yard.
Stone eyeballed the building, using his hand to shield his gaze from the sun. "Damn," he said. "Thought you said this fucker was rich."
"He is," Talon said, frowning. "Or rich enough. He was Ivory League."
Stone whistled. "Went to school that high up in the clouds?"
"Yeah."
It was all in the report. Prey went to school the same place as Flit, and he dropped out after the first semester and Flit's restraining order. Talon flexed his fingers into fists. He knew the file front to back.
"Think he's home?" Stone questioned.
"Dunno," Talon replied. "But I can wait."
Stone looked sideways at him. "You wanna talk real bad, don't ya?" he drawled, his deep voice amused.
"Yeah, today I'm feeling particularly lo-qua-cious," Talon enunciated, starting forward without waiting for Stone, an eager bounce in his step.
"Big word, big guy," Stone laughed quietly as he caught up. They walked purposefully up to the front door, both of them opting to jump over the steps rather than risk twisted ankles if the wood gave. The floorboards on the porch creaked alarmingly under their combined weight.
Talon banged on the screen door with his fist, rattling the wood frame. Bits of paint and plaster showered to the ground.
"WHO THE FUCK IS IT?" a voice bellowed from inside.
Talon felt every muscle in his body seize tight, rage simmering under his skin. He could picture the bastard on the other side of the door, fetid and boozy, stinking up the air in unwashed clothes, stubble on his face and eyes bloodshot. It didn't take much more effort to imagine him as a crumpled, bloody heap on the floor.
Stone put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Easy," he said.
Talon shrugged him off. "Answer your damn door and find out," he shouted back.
They heard muffled cursing and the heavy creak of floorboards as Prey came closer. The inner door flew open to reveal the dingy gloom of the shack, and Talon found himself staring through the dark screen, face to face with Oz Prey himself.
"Hey, asshole," Talon said, and punched his fist straight through the screen into Prey's nose.
"Shit!" Prey said, clutching at his face and stumbling backward. Blood spurted between his fingers as he flailed around.
Talon smiled grimly and yanked open the door.
Stone put a hand on his arm. "Everybody walks away from this breathing."
"Breathing, sure," Talon said, pushing inside the house. "Walking I can't guarantee."
Prey had managed to pull his shit together. Blood dripped off his chin, staining his dirty shirt. He was a tall guy with plenty of muscle. Talon hoped he didn't go down easy. "What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?" Prey said.
"Just a couple of friendly, neighborhood Beakbreakers," Talon replied, "making a house call."
For every step he took forward, Prey backed a step down the hall, eyes darting between Talon and Stone.
"What the fuck?" Prey spat out. "What are Beakbreakers doing here?"
Talon took a moment to study Prey. He'd been wrong about what he'd look like: aside from the dirty t-shirt and the stained jeans, Prey was well put together. His piercing gold eyes were keen and alert and - right now - wide with fear. His white hair had jet streaks at the temples, and the cut looked expensive. He was also clean-shaven with chiseled cheekbones, a dimpled chin, and thin, sculpted lips.
Talon was really glad he'd fucked up the bird's nose.
"We were in the neighborhood," Talon said. "Thought we'd drop in and say hi."
"We're swell folks like that," Stone added.
"I didn't do anything," Prey said, backing up another step as he held up his hands as though to ward them off. "I'm innocent."
"That's not what I hear," Talon said.
"Who the fuck told you that?"
Talon smirked. "Let's just say . . . a little bird I know," he replied.
Prey's eyes narrowed. "Who?" he demanded.
Talon made a disappointed, tsking noise under his breath. He cracked his knuckles deliberately, one by one. "Pal, I don't think you're in any position to get testy with us. We're here to give you a little lesson on how to treat your gentlemen right."
Prey's posture relaxed and a sneer stole over his face. He didn't look all that handsome anymore. "Oh, right. This 'little bird' said I hit him, right? I bet it was Perry. The clumsy idiot ran into a door. He says I smacked him around, didn't he?"
"Could be," Stone said, glancing at Talon.
"Yeah, well, he's a liar. I don't hit people."
"Try again," Talon said. "I almost believed you, but your delivery lacks something."
Prey licked his lips. "I don't think it matters what I say. You came here for a fight, didn't you?"
"Give him a prize, Stone," Talon said, his eyes tracking Prey's movements, noting the way his legs tensed like he might run.
"I already told you, I don’t hit people. Those sluts all lied."
"There's a restraining order with your name on it that says different," Talon hissed out. He could hear the low shriek trying to work its way into his voice and felt phantom claws at his fingertips.
"The bitch who took that out was a lying piece of trash."
Talon's teeth clacked together. He imagined what it would be like to snap his beak through Prey's neck. He gritted his teeth and said slowly, deliberately, "Flit wouldn't lie about that, you stupid son of a bitch."
Prey's eyes widened before his features twisted into something dark and dangerous. "You know him? That little bitch! He put you up to this!"
"He didn't put me up to anything," Talon said. Shit, he thought, he shouldn't have mentioned Flit's name. "I just think you should learn to pick on birds your own size."
"That stupid bitch deserved it. He needed someone willing to keep him in line," Prey sneered. "Fucking slut. I'd hit him again."
Talon lashed out almost before he was aware of what he was doing. His fist caught Prey across the chin, snapping his head back. Prey's left hand shot forward and grasped Talon's forearm on the downward stroke; he used it to haul Talon closer and brought his fist up at the same time. Talon caught a glancing blow off his cheekbone that made him grunt.
Then they were grappling in earnest with each other, falling to the floor in a heap, punching and kicking wildly. There was no finesse. Talon was out for blood and Prey seemed equally incensed by the mention of Flit's name.
Prey was also quicker than Talon thought he'd be and obviously not an inexperienced fighter; he landed some good, solid punches. Talon managed to block most of the damaging ones, until Prey got him across the solar plexus so hard with an elbow that it knocked the breath out of him, pain radiating across his chest.
In that instant of weakness, Prey punched Talon in the mouth, splitting his lip and making him bite his tongue. He spat blood to the side and landed a hard punch to Prey's stomach in retaliation that made the other bird double over.
"Talon," Stone started to say.
"Stay out of this," Talon said, huffing, as he crouched low to the ground. "I can handle it."
Prey straightened and dove at Talon's legs. Talon put his hands out and they collided. He went backwards and his head bounced off the floor hard enough that he saw stars, air whooshing from his lungs on a pained grunt at the impact.
"I'm gonna kick the shit out of you," Prey said, leaning over Talon while he was still dazed and unmoving. "And then I'm gonna find Flit and work him over real good. He always looked so pretty painted black and blue."
Talon heard his own heartbeat go slow and steady, like when he flew high up into the clouds where the air was freezing and it was hard to breathe.
Everything crystallized.
His head whipped up and he rammed his forehead against Prey's nose. The other bird howled and pulled back, and Talon followed him up and over onto his back, standing over Prey's body and wailing punches everywhere he could reach.
"Don't - fucking - touch - him," Talon bit out, punctuating each of his words with a kick. He heard something snap under his boot and Prey screamed, loud and high.
Stone tried to haul him off, and Talon let out a roar, twisting around and swinging his fist wildly. It slammed into Stone's face, and Stone grunted, his grip going slack.
Talon lunged forward, pummeling Prey's face and chest. Prey brought his hands up, trying feebly to block the punches, and Talon knocked them away, landing a crunching punch to Prey's mouth that definitely knocked loose a few teeth.
He felt Stone grab the back of his shirt and jerk him hard. The collar cut into his throat and made him cough reflexively. The sudden motion threw him off balance and he went to his knees, breathing heavily. Sweat beaded cold on his forehead.
"Fucking stop, idiot," Stone said, wrapping his arm around Talon's neck as he hauled him upright. Talon stumbled but managed to steady himself.
Prey was a twitching lump on the floor. He moaned pitifully. His face was a mess of blood, and he clutched his sides, whimpering with each wheezing breath he took. He probably had broken ribs.
Stone curled his hand around the back of Talon's neck in warning; his hand was so large his fingers nearly met over Talon's Adam's apple.
"We're done here," Stone hissed and yanked him toward the door.
Talon coughed and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he was dragged away. His knuckles were split and bleeding. When he dropped his hand to his side, it dripped red.
"Yeah," he said.
Stone shook his head when they were outside. "You punched me. You stupid fucker. Let's get you home."
----
For some reason, Talon had sort of forgotten about Flit.
Until he got two steps inside his house with Stone hovering behind him, threw his keys into the bowl, and saw Flit pop his head out of the kitchen doorway, already talking loudly as he dried his hands with a dishtowel.
"Talon," he said cheerfully. He hadn't looked up from his hands yet. "You're late. I hope you like your food cold because I certainly didn't get a phone call from you telling me oh my GOD." He stopped and stared at Talon. His face paled.
"Most of the blood isn't mine," Talon said. He heard Stone sigh wearily behind him.
"That comforts me immensely," Flit said, beginning to sound hysterical. He practically launched himself down the hall, but jerked to a stop halfway and took a deep breath, then finished coming closer with halting steps.
He brought the dishrag up to Talon's face with shaking hands, and Talon let him. Flit smeared the blood away and swiftly catalogued Talon's wounds, ending with Talon's hands.
He gripped Talon's wrist and held his bloody knuckles up to the light. "What happened?" Flit asked, his eyes wide and horrified.
"Ran into something," Talon said shortly. "With my fist."
Flit stared at him, mouth agape. Talon could feel the heat from Flit's fingers bracketing his wrist.
"A couple times," Talon added, and hated that he sounded guilty.
"Dumbass," he heard Stone mutter.
"Are you all right?" Flit said. He was still pale and his eyes were huge and round in his face, making him look small and vulnerable.
"I'm fine," Talon said. "But we could use a little more ice and a lot less questions. These cuts sting like a bitch. And my face hurts."
Flit's eyes traced Talon's features. His hands fluttered like he wanted to touch the bruises on Talon's face.
"It wasn't a big deal," Stone said in a deep, businesslike tone. "We tangled with a perp. Hazard of the job."
Flit started, like he hadn't realized Stone was there, and took in Stone's appearance. He made a little dismayed noise. "Oh, no, you got hit, too!"
"Yeah," Stone said, working his jaw and glancing at Talon. "Crazy fucker clocked me good."
Talon looked away.
"Sorry," Flit said, "Let me get you some ice."
"Don't worry about it," Stone replied. "I'm gonna head home."
Flit hesitated. "If you're sure . . ."
Stone's smile was lopsided. "I am. Just take care of Tal here. He's a big baby when he's hurt."
Flit smiled weakly. "I know," he said. He swiveled on his heel and disappeared quickly back into the kitchen. Talon heard him run the rag under the faucet and then open the freezer door to get some ice.
Talon swallowed. "Stone," he said, as Stone moved toward the door.
Stone stopped but didn't turn around.
"Thanks," Talon said simply.
Stone's shoulders shook, and Talon thought he might be laughing. "Uh huh," was what he replied, but his tone said You owe me, motherfucker.
"I know," Talon said.
Stone cocked an eye at Talon over his shoulder. He wasn't smiling, but there was somehow a fond look on his face. "Don't come to the precinct tomorrow, birdbrain. Take it easy and keep your head low. I'll deal with any complaints."
"You really think he'll complain?"
A grin broke out across Stone's face. "Shit, son. After the tail-whoopin' you gave him? I think he'll lay an egg every time he hears a knock on his front door."
Talon grinned back, even though he could taste blood from the cut on his lip.
----
Part Ten
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight
12. Flit.
Flit sat in the kitchen with his broken arm propped awkwardly on the table, nursing his fifth cup of coffee, and told himself he was being absurd. He should just go to bed. He didn't need to wait up for Talon so he could find out how the date had gone.
Besides, it might have gone so well he'd wind up waiting until tomorrow morning.
He stared down morosely into his coffee cup.
He didn't want to imagine how much fun Talon and Robin were having. Flit knew firsthand Robin was a great bird - funny, smart, talented. Talon couldn't help but like him. And Robin could make Talon happy. They'd be a cute couple. A perfect couple.
He pushed his coffee away and sighed. He needed to get over this silly infatuation. He was a professional, and his job was to find Talon a nice bird to help him get over Zip, someone who could appreciate him and take care of him and love him like he deserved.
Someone who was emphatically not Flit.
It was just strange, that was all. He hadn't really been honestly attracted to anyone in a long time, and it was throwing him for a loop. He'd lived alone since - well, since college, really, and he didn't want to think about life before that. His forced cohabitation with Talon - and all right, yes, he was the one forcing it, beside the point - was unusual. Living practically in Talon's pocket, getting to know him - it was situational attraction. It would pass.
His head jerked up when he heard the front door open. He straightened and plastered a bored expression on his face. He couldn't stop himself from pulling the coffee close again and tapping his fingers on the rim of the mug.
Talon's low voice rumbled down the hallway; Flit heard Robin's pleasant tenor, and Talon's grumbling laughter, then the jingle of keys thrown into the bowl by the door. He waited, tense, for Talon to invite Robin inside, but the door shut and only one pair of feet made their way down the hall.
Talon walked into the kitchen and stopped short when he saw Flit. "Uh," Talon said. "Hey, spar - Flit. You're up."
"No," Flit said, "I'm not."
Talon frowned. "What?"
"I'm sleepwalking. And when I sleepwalk, I make coffee and sit in the kitchen and drink it."
Talon's frown deepened into a scowl. "Funny." He brushed past Flit, making sure to knock his shoulder as he did. "Did you leave any for me?"
"Maybe," Flit said, sniffing disdainfully, hoping to hide his racing heartbeat as he brought his mug up to his lips to take another sip. "You're home early."
"Yeah, well," Talon replied, his back to Flit as he poured a cup of coffee, "quick sex in an alley doesn't take that long."
"What!" Flit squawked, his hand spasming. Coffee sloshed over the side, scalding his fingers, and he quickly set the mug down, wiping his hands on his trouser leg.
Talon turned around and smirked as he blew on his coffee. "Sorry, I'm not the kind of bird to kiss and tell."
Flit pressed his lips together. "Oh really? You certainly had no problem when you came home drunk with that under aged tart on your arm."
Talon's expression snapped back into a scowl, and he stepped forward with a dark look.
Flit winced, already expecting the customary smack to the back of the head, and Talon just - stopped.
A peculiar expression came over Talon's face. "Shut up, sparrow," he grumbled, leaning back against the counter. He took a long drink of coffee and appeared uncharacteristically sulky. "You're not my mom."
"No," Flit said. "But I could always call her up."
Talon took two steps forward this time with his hand half-raised before he stopped and visibly calmed himself. "Do it and die," he growled instead.
Flit tilted his head. Was Talon actually restraining himself? Perhaps sex did put him in a better mood. He cleared his throat. "Did you and Robin at least have a nice time before the . . . alley sex?"
"Yeah," Talon replied, smirk back in place. "It's amazing how much I want to kill your friends way less than you."
Flit blinked and turned his head away, distracting himself by taking another sip of coffee. "Are you planning on seeing him again?"
"No," Talon said.
Flit turned around to stare at him. "But why?"
Talon shrugged one shoulder. "Not my type."
"Oh," Flit said. "Just your type enough to have sex with, I see. What, exactly, about Robin is not your type?"
"Why do you care?" Talon asked suspiciously, setting his mug down.
"So I know what to look for," Flit replied evenly. "For the next date. The more information I have the better."
"No way," Talon said. "I don't want any more dates."
"Mhm," Flit said. "So you say."
Talon slammed his mug into the sink, rattling the dishes. "I mean it, sparrow. I don't need you fixing me up. I can get my own tail. It's late, I'm going to bed." He stomped from the room.
Flit waited until he heard Talon's door bang shut.
"Good night," he said softly.
----
After a somewhat sleepless night, he woke first the next morning, like usual, and made sure to set a pot of coffee brewing for Talon. The griffin was more part-bear than part-lion before he'd had his caffeine. Not that most people could really tell the difference between early morning grumpy Talon and regular grumpy Talon.
Flit thought he might be getting a little too involved because he could tell the difference.
He eyed the recipe book Beaky had given him and flipped it open to the section on breakfast foods. Beaky had put a tiny star next to 'Wildseed Pancakes,' so Flit cracked his knuckles and got to work.
Talon stumbled into the kitchen half-dressed an hour later, just as Flit was flipping the pancakes onto a large platter.
"Good morning," Flit said primly, trying not to stare at the way Talon's sweatpants rode low on his angular hips. His chest was covered in fine, blond hair that trailed sharply down his muscled abdomen.
Flit wondered if the hair felt soft or crinkly and burned himself on the skillet in his distraction. He hissed softly and shook his fingers, wincing at the sting.
Talon yawned so wide his jaw cracked. "Gnh," he grunted intelligently, heading straight for the coffee pot. He got a mug out of the cabinet and poured himself a cup, foregoing sugar or cream to down it black.
Flit busied himself flipping the last of the pancakes and turning off the stove as he tried to wipe the fond smile from his face. "Did you want syrup on your pancakes?"
Talon turned around, the mug cradled possessively to his chest, and cocked his hip against the counter. He didn't seem entirely awake.
"Oh, you, uh - breakfast," Talon said. He scratched his jaw. "You made breakfast."
Flit studied Talon in confusion. "I always make you breakfast."
Talon looked startled. "Yeah," he said. And then again, more slowly, as he stared at Flit. ". . . Yeah. You do."
Flit shrugged slightly, feeling embarrassed and exposed, as he carried the plate of pancakes to the kitchen table and set the syrup bottle down next to it. "I cook for myself. It's easy enough to cook for two."
Talon poured himself a refill of coffee, eyes never leaving Flit. "Right," he agreed.
They ate in oddly comfortable silence.
----
Talon acted strangely the rest of the weekend, watching Flit when he thought Flit wasn't looking, not speaking much. When he did address Flit, there was a curious, contemplative tone to his voice, like he was figuring something out. Flit wished he knew what was going on in Talon's head.
He busied himself with next week's column and avoided Talon, although he did notice Talon slip away for several hours on Sunday. When Talon returned he seemed to be in a much more cheerful mood. He knocked and came into Flit's bedroom, peering over his shoulder. "Whatcha doin'?"
Flit glanced at him sideways, but didn't stop typing on his laptop. "Working on my next piece of worthless advice for the public, as you would say."
Talon chuckled. He moved away and sat down on Flit's bed. What in the clouds was he doing? Flit could just see from the corner of his eye as Talon flopped backward, sprawled out on the mattress. Now there was a nice picture. "Oh yeah?" Talon said. "What's this week's crisis?"
Flit's fingers hovered over the keyboard. "A young quail wants to know if she should give her philandering rooster husband another chance."
"Definitely not," Talon said. "If you screw up like that, you don't get another chance."
"But what if he really loves her and it was a mistake?"
"It wasn't," Talon said firmly. "He'd keep his cockadoodle in his pants if he loved her. He wouldn't hurt the person he loved. And she should leave his ass for her own good."
"Yes, well," Flit said more sharply than he intended, "sometimes people don't always do what's best for them. She might believe he'll change and that he won't hurt her like that again. "
He saw Talon sit up quickly on the bed. "That so? And if he does?"
Flit took a deep breath and began typing again. Old wounds stung if you poked at them too much. "Then hopefully she'll leave him rather than continue in a destructive relationship."
"Yeah," Talon said. "So what are you gonna tell her?"
Flit paused again. "That she needs to make a decision. If she loves her husband, and she thinks she can forgive him, she should allow him another chance. But there are no such things as third chances. If he cheats on her again, she should leave him."
"So you'd give him the benefit of the doubt," Talon said, "Because you're a big chick. And a hopeless romantic."
Flit finally looked at Talon, feeling nettled. "It doesn't kill you to be optimistic. People make mistakes, you know."
"Sure," Talon said. "And in my world, if you make a mistake, you take your lumps. You don't get a do over."
Flit ground his teeth together. It was no use talking to Talon - he always thought he was right, no matter what.
"You ever get questions about abuse?" Talon asked abruptly. "Like, if that rooster were smacking her around would you tell her to give him another chance?"
Flit's fingers froze for a split second, and he knew Talon saw it, knew he heard Flit's tiny intake of breath. "I don't - no. If he were abusing her, I'd advise her to leave."
"Even if he didn't mean to? Even if it only happened once?"
"Yes," Flit said quietly. "In my experience, it never only happens once."
". . . in your experience?" Talon asked, his voice oddly low.
Flit cleared his throat. "As a professional ornipsychiatrist."
Talon didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Guess you'd know," he said eventually.
"Yes," Flit said, thankful Talon didn't realize how close to the truth he was, and turned back to the computer. "Was there something else you needed or can I get back to work?"
Talon scratched absently at his chest, looking down. "Don't think I ever said sorry. For, uh, trying to kill you when we met."
Flit barked out a surprised laugh and swiveled fully around. "What?"
Talon scowled. "I'm not gonna say it again."
"Well, don't think an apology gets you your flight feather back," Flit said, arching an eyebrow. Talon was acting rather bizarrely out of character. Perhaps he was trying the honey versus vinegar approach.
"Fuck you, sparrow, I hope that quail doesn't take your advice," Talon said. Ah, there was the vinegar he was used to. "And shit, see if I'm ever nice to you again," Talon finished grumpily. He planted his feet on the floor and stood up, flexing his hands.
"Do warn me if you plan to be," Flit said, laughing lightly. "I'll need to prepare myself for the shock."
Talon grumbled something under his breath and walked out, and Flit very purposefully pushed the conversation from his mind. He had a column to finish, and then several potential suitors to weed through for Talon.
He was so looking forward to that. He sighed.
----
13. Talon.
"Hey, guys," Talon said, strolling into the precinct on Monday.
He was greeted by a chorus of hellos and a deep Yo from Stone.
"Got a thing," he said, his grin sharp, as he hopped up to sit on the edge of his desk and patted the paper he'd brought with him. He hadn't been able to wait until Monday; he'd come in yesterday to run Prey's name through the system. "Could be fun, if anyone wants to help."
Stone sauntered over first, maneuvering his bulky frame between the desks. Talon was the biggest guy in the squadron, if you didn’t count Stone, because Stone was practically his own squadron. "Yeah? Blood gonna be involved?"
"Be sad if it isn't," Talon replied easily, his grin growing wider.
"Nice," Stone said. "I'm in. Who's the perp?"
Talon handed him the paper and waited while Stone read through. Stone arched a thick, dark eyebrow and looked up with a low whistle, rubbing a hand over his head. His hair was longer than Talon's regulation buzz, but not by much. "Damn, this guy's a piece of shit. Seven accounts of battery? How'd he keep getting out of it?"
"No one was willing to press charges. And he has money."
Stone grunted and shook his head, scanning the report again. "Fucking shame. Hey, says here this first victim took out a restraining order, his name's -"
Stone stopped and glanced up at Talon.
Talon looked back calmly.
"Huh," Stone said, breaking eye contact first. "Name's familiar. Just can't place it."
"Good," Talon said.
Stone paused, his eyebrow creeping upward again. "How's your roommate these days?" he asked pointedly, just to be an asshole.
"Fine," Talon said, acknowledging Stone's warning with a dip of his head. Bringing your personal life to the job was frowned upon, to put it mildly. "Regular Suzy Songbird."
"Thought he was Penny Pinfeather?"
"Thought I told you never to say that name in front of me."
Stone laughed, the sound reverberating deeply across the room. Several other Beakbreakers looked up. "When you wanna head out?" he asked, slapping Talon on the back.
"Got some paperwork to finish first from the bust the team did last week." Talon grimaced, jerking his thumb toward a pile of papers on the corner of his desk. He would've been more pissed at being stuck with hours of deskwork, but he had plans to relieve some tension later.
"Right," Stone said. "Think there'll be a report for this?" he asked, setting the paper with Prey's information down on Talon's desk.
"Nah," Talon said. "We're just going to have a little chat with the guy, right? Nothing official. We might not even need our badges."
"Sure," Stone said easily. "No need for paperwork. I hate that shit."
"Exactly," Talon said, flashing a toothy smile.
Stone's answering smile was just as toothy.
----
Talon shrugged on his beat-up brown leather flight jacket as he and Stone walked out the precinct door that afternoon. Stone had on a similar jacket, but his was black and new because he was kind of a flash bastard.
"Nice threads," Talon commented.
"Shut up," Stone said easily, punching Talon's shoulder. "You're sufferin' from the green-beaked monster, my friend."
Talon rolled his eyes and grinned. "Whatever. Ready to go have a friendly talk with Mr Prey?"
Stone rotated his shoulders and rolled his neck from side to side. "You know me, Tal. I love talking."
----
Prey's house was more like a ramshackle cottage. For somebody with money, it looked like he lived in his own droppings. The shutters hung off the windows like flaps of dead skin, and the paint was peeling. The steps up to the small front porch were bent and humped from the elements, washed to gray wood. Trash littered the yard.
Stone eyeballed the building, using his hand to shield his gaze from the sun. "Damn," he said. "Thought you said this fucker was rich."
"He is," Talon said, frowning. "Or rich enough. He was Ivory League."
Stone whistled. "Went to school that high up in the clouds?"
"Yeah."
It was all in the report. Prey went to school the same place as Flit, and he dropped out after the first semester and Flit's restraining order. Talon flexed his fingers into fists. He knew the file front to back.
"Think he's home?" Stone questioned.
"Dunno," Talon replied. "But I can wait."
Stone looked sideways at him. "You wanna talk real bad, don't ya?" he drawled, his deep voice amused.
"Yeah, today I'm feeling particularly lo-qua-cious," Talon enunciated, starting forward without waiting for Stone, an eager bounce in his step.
"Big word, big guy," Stone laughed quietly as he caught up. They walked purposefully up to the front door, both of them opting to jump over the steps rather than risk twisted ankles if the wood gave. The floorboards on the porch creaked alarmingly under their combined weight.
Talon banged on the screen door with his fist, rattling the wood frame. Bits of paint and plaster showered to the ground.
"WHO THE FUCK IS IT?" a voice bellowed from inside.
Talon felt every muscle in his body seize tight, rage simmering under his skin. He could picture the bastard on the other side of the door, fetid and boozy, stinking up the air in unwashed clothes, stubble on his face and eyes bloodshot. It didn't take much more effort to imagine him as a crumpled, bloody heap on the floor.
Stone put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Easy," he said.
Talon shrugged him off. "Answer your damn door and find out," he shouted back.
They heard muffled cursing and the heavy creak of floorboards as Prey came closer. The inner door flew open to reveal the dingy gloom of the shack, and Talon found himself staring through the dark screen, face to face with Oz Prey himself.
"Hey, asshole," Talon said, and punched his fist straight through the screen into Prey's nose.
"Shit!" Prey said, clutching at his face and stumbling backward. Blood spurted between his fingers as he flailed around.
Talon smiled grimly and yanked open the door.
Stone put a hand on his arm. "Everybody walks away from this breathing."
"Breathing, sure," Talon said, pushing inside the house. "Walking I can't guarantee."
Prey had managed to pull his shit together. Blood dripped off his chin, staining his dirty shirt. He was a tall guy with plenty of muscle. Talon hoped he didn't go down easy. "What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?" Prey said.
"Just a couple of friendly, neighborhood Beakbreakers," Talon replied, "making a house call."
For every step he took forward, Prey backed a step down the hall, eyes darting between Talon and Stone.
"What the fuck?" Prey spat out. "What are Beakbreakers doing here?"
Talon took a moment to study Prey. He'd been wrong about what he'd look like: aside from the dirty t-shirt and the stained jeans, Prey was well put together. His piercing gold eyes were keen and alert and - right now - wide with fear. His white hair had jet streaks at the temples, and the cut looked expensive. He was also clean-shaven with chiseled cheekbones, a dimpled chin, and thin, sculpted lips.
Talon was really glad he'd fucked up the bird's nose.
"We were in the neighborhood," Talon said. "Thought we'd drop in and say hi."
"We're swell folks like that," Stone added.
"I didn't do anything," Prey said, backing up another step as he held up his hands as though to ward them off. "I'm innocent."
"That's not what I hear," Talon said.
"Who the fuck told you that?"
Talon smirked. "Let's just say . . . a little bird I know," he replied.
Prey's eyes narrowed. "Who?" he demanded.
Talon made a disappointed, tsking noise under his breath. He cracked his knuckles deliberately, one by one. "Pal, I don't think you're in any position to get testy with us. We're here to give you a little lesson on how to treat your gentlemen right."
Prey's posture relaxed and a sneer stole over his face. He didn't look all that handsome anymore. "Oh, right. This 'little bird' said I hit him, right? I bet it was Perry. The clumsy idiot ran into a door. He says I smacked him around, didn't he?"
"Could be," Stone said, glancing at Talon.
"Yeah, well, he's a liar. I don't hit people."
"Try again," Talon said. "I almost believed you, but your delivery lacks something."
Prey licked his lips. "I don't think it matters what I say. You came here for a fight, didn't you?"
"Give him a prize, Stone," Talon said, his eyes tracking Prey's movements, noting the way his legs tensed like he might run.
"I already told you, I don’t hit people. Those sluts all lied."
"There's a restraining order with your name on it that says different," Talon hissed out. He could hear the low shriek trying to work its way into his voice and felt phantom claws at his fingertips.
"The bitch who took that out was a lying piece of trash."
Talon's teeth clacked together. He imagined what it would be like to snap his beak through Prey's neck. He gritted his teeth and said slowly, deliberately, "Flit wouldn't lie about that, you stupid son of a bitch."
Prey's eyes widened before his features twisted into something dark and dangerous. "You know him? That little bitch! He put you up to this!"
"He didn't put me up to anything," Talon said. Shit, he thought, he shouldn't have mentioned Flit's name. "I just think you should learn to pick on birds your own size."
"That stupid bitch deserved it. He needed someone willing to keep him in line," Prey sneered. "Fucking slut. I'd hit him again."
Talon lashed out almost before he was aware of what he was doing. His fist caught Prey across the chin, snapping his head back. Prey's left hand shot forward and grasped Talon's forearm on the downward stroke; he used it to haul Talon closer and brought his fist up at the same time. Talon caught a glancing blow off his cheekbone that made him grunt.
Then they were grappling in earnest with each other, falling to the floor in a heap, punching and kicking wildly. There was no finesse. Talon was out for blood and Prey seemed equally incensed by the mention of Flit's name.
Prey was also quicker than Talon thought he'd be and obviously not an inexperienced fighter; he landed some good, solid punches. Talon managed to block most of the damaging ones, until Prey got him across the solar plexus so hard with an elbow that it knocked the breath out of him, pain radiating across his chest.
In that instant of weakness, Prey punched Talon in the mouth, splitting his lip and making him bite his tongue. He spat blood to the side and landed a hard punch to Prey's stomach in retaliation that made the other bird double over.
"Talon," Stone started to say.
"Stay out of this," Talon said, huffing, as he crouched low to the ground. "I can handle it."
Prey straightened and dove at Talon's legs. Talon put his hands out and they collided. He went backwards and his head bounced off the floor hard enough that he saw stars, air whooshing from his lungs on a pained grunt at the impact.
"I'm gonna kick the shit out of you," Prey said, leaning over Talon while he was still dazed and unmoving. "And then I'm gonna find Flit and work him over real good. He always looked so pretty painted black and blue."
Talon heard his own heartbeat go slow and steady, like when he flew high up into the clouds where the air was freezing and it was hard to breathe.
Everything crystallized.
His head whipped up and he rammed his forehead against Prey's nose. The other bird howled and pulled back, and Talon followed him up and over onto his back, standing over Prey's body and wailing punches everywhere he could reach.
"Don't - fucking - touch - him," Talon bit out, punctuating each of his words with a kick. He heard something snap under his boot and Prey screamed, loud and high.
Stone tried to haul him off, and Talon let out a roar, twisting around and swinging his fist wildly. It slammed into Stone's face, and Stone grunted, his grip going slack.
Talon lunged forward, pummeling Prey's face and chest. Prey brought his hands up, trying feebly to block the punches, and Talon knocked them away, landing a crunching punch to Prey's mouth that definitely knocked loose a few teeth.
He felt Stone grab the back of his shirt and jerk him hard. The collar cut into his throat and made him cough reflexively. The sudden motion threw him off balance and he went to his knees, breathing heavily. Sweat beaded cold on his forehead.
"Fucking stop, idiot," Stone said, wrapping his arm around Talon's neck as he hauled him upright. Talon stumbled but managed to steady himself.
Prey was a twitching lump on the floor. He moaned pitifully. His face was a mess of blood, and he clutched his sides, whimpering with each wheezing breath he took. He probably had broken ribs.
Stone curled his hand around the back of Talon's neck in warning; his hand was so large his fingers nearly met over Talon's Adam's apple.
"We're done here," Stone hissed and yanked him toward the door.
Talon coughed and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he was dragged away. His knuckles were split and bleeding. When he dropped his hand to his side, it dripped red.
"Yeah," he said.
Stone shook his head when they were outside. "You punched me. You stupid fucker. Let's get you home."
----
For some reason, Talon had sort of forgotten about Flit.
Until he got two steps inside his house with Stone hovering behind him, threw his keys into the bowl, and saw Flit pop his head out of the kitchen doorway, already talking loudly as he dried his hands with a dishtowel.
"Talon," he said cheerfully. He hadn't looked up from his hands yet. "You're late. I hope you like your food cold because I certainly didn't get a phone call from you telling me oh my GOD." He stopped and stared at Talon. His face paled.
"Most of the blood isn't mine," Talon said. He heard Stone sigh wearily behind him.
"That comforts me immensely," Flit said, beginning to sound hysterical. He practically launched himself down the hall, but jerked to a stop halfway and took a deep breath, then finished coming closer with halting steps.
He brought the dishrag up to Talon's face with shaking hands, and Talon let him. Flit smeared the blood away and swiftly catalogued Talon's wounds, ending with Talon's hands.
He gripped Talon's wrist and held his bloody knuckles up to the light. "What happened?" Flit asked, his eyes wide and horrified.
"Ran into something," Talon said shortly. "With my fist."
Flit stared at him, mouth agape. Talon could feel the heat from Flit's fingers bracketing his wrist.
"A couple times," Talon added, and hated that he sounded guilty.
"Dumbass," he heard Stone mutter.
"Are you all right?" Flit said. He was still pale and his eyes were huge and round in his face, making him look small and vulnerable.
"I'm fine," Talon said. "But we could use a little more ice and a lot less questions. These cuts sting like a bitch. And my face hurts."
Flit's eyes traced Talon's features. His hands fluttered like he wanted to touch the bruises on Talon's face.
"It wasn't a big deal," Stone said in a deep, businesslike tone. "We tangled with a perp. Hazard of the job."
Flit started, like he hadn't realized Stone was there, and took in Stone's appearance. He made a little dismayed noise. "Oh, no, you got hit, too!"
"Yeah," Stone said, working his jaw and glancing at Talon. "Crazy fucker clocked me good."
Talon looked away.
"Sorry," Flit said, "Let me get you some ice."
"Don't worry about it," Stone replied. "I'm gonna head home."
Flit hesitated. "If you're sure . . ."
Stone's smile was lopsided. "I am. Just take care of Tal here. He's a big baby when he's hurt."
Flit smiled weakly. "I know," he said. He swiveled on his heel and disappeared quickly back into the kitchen. Talon heard him run the rag under the faucet and then open the freezer door to get some ice.
Talon swallowed. "Stone," he said, as Stone moved toward the door.
Stone stopped but didn't turn around.
"Thanks," Talon said simply.
Stone's shoulders shook, and Talon thought he might be laughing. "Uh huh," was what he replied, but his tone said You owe me, motherfucker.
"I know," Talon said.
Stone cocked an eye at Talon over his shoulder. He wasn't smiling, but there was somehow a fond look on his face. "Don't come to the precinct tomorrow, birdbrain. Take it easy and keep your head low. I'll deal with any complaints."
"You really think he'll complain?"
A grin broke out across Stone's face. "Shit, son. After the tail-whoopin' you gave him? I think he'll lay an egg every time he hears a knock on his front door."
Talon grinned back, even though he could taste blood from the cut on his lip.
----
Part Ten