There’s a hell of a lot more to this manning up and being a decent person thing than I expected. Or I guess I never really thought enough about it to expect anything at all, and taking care of a whole land (granted with the cooperation of the fantastic Reilly) and my kids, my weird little family, it’s a lot to juggle for someone used to taking care of nothing and nobody other than myself.

So much to do. Got to find more people to bring home, beef up our defenses, make sure we can stand against the possibility of another goddamn invasion. Fuck, it was so much easier when that didn’t really fall on me. Anyhow, so when there’s a little down time, when the kids are all occupied with their mom or Reilly, I head on back out, leaving the Lake behind. Leaving the quiet little mountain range that’s become our haven, our safe place in a world full of power hungry dicks and all sorts of messed up shit I don’t want my kids exposed to so young. 

I mean, it’s inevitable they’ll learn a good bit of it later. But they deserve a childhood. Some innocence. Something that can be really fucking hard to come by in this word. So I’m doing my damndest to give it to them.

I’ve never really had the best luck with the Meadow, so this time around I head toward the Forest. Nice shady trees, little nooks and crannies where a guy could have a quiet little conversation with a pretty lady or a hot guy. Or, right, someone who might make a good ally. Or that. Good idea, yeah, focus.

By the time I get there, I’ve toned down the sexy the best I can, which I mean really, is not all that much. A little less prowl in my walk, a little less smirk in my smile, but there’s only so much I can do to make all this less exquisite. Still, not the point for today. I’m not looking to take someone home--or well, I am, to some extent. But not like that. Not to bang, though odds are I wouldn’t say no if the opportunity arose. No, today’s about looking for new neighbors, not a hot little hook up.

Maybe tomorrow.

Instead, I walk almost sedately, for me at least, through the shadow of the tall old trees, looking casually around to see who I might find. And actually trying to keep my mind out of the gutter, even if it’s only a little successful. No ogling, no leching, no drooling over her tight little ass or staring at the hard planes of muscle on his exquisite body and wondering just how he’d feel wrapped around me. Mmm or better yet--no, wait, behave. Right. Fuck. Okay. Deep breath, Kirby, baby, put on a nice, pleasant, harmless little smile, and try this shit again.

Take three, I look around for someone to strike up a nice, casual conversation with. And when that goes poorly (in that I keep getting distracted drooling over hot strangers and making no progress whatsoever), I shrug, the universal body language for “fuck it,” and play with a little iron, pulling it up out of the ground and gathering it up into a ball. And using that ball, I build a hot little fairy with a comb attached, so I can tuck her in my mane to keep watch. Or pass her off to a pretty little thing who might find the gesture endearing. Or weirdly hot. Whatever. Either way works for me.