#we keep encountering snakes and lizards on our walks and he barely glances at them

[bookrat]

Looks like a Livestock guardian dog. Pyrenees mix? Absolutely stunningly beautiful baby. 😍 If so, stranger-danger is par for the course. Don't be defeated if a tiger won't change stripes.❤️ Congrats on prettiest baby. ~

Thanks~

The people who gave him to me thought he was a lab/standard poodle(definitely not poodle, and labs aren't the only black dogs in the world), but my guess is great pyrenees mix too. He's even got a hind dewclaw.

Whatever he's mixed with, he didn't get a purely LGD personality and I'm having to work with him on not wanting to eat the chicken.

[xiolaperry]

“Of Dogs and Cats” Chapter 2

Summary:  Another trio of vignettes featuring pets in Rumplestiltskin's life.

Notes:  Written during Camp NaNoWriMo April 2020. Special thanks to my fellow campers in the "Rumbelle Writers' Realm".

Read on AO3  ---  Read previous chapter here.

Rumplestiltskin approached the back door of his shop. His mind was reeling from the previous night’s encounter with Emma and the resulting flood of memories. But he was still observant enough to notice movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked around, but whatever he'd seen had disappeared.

Later that afternoon he glanced out the back window and saw it. A small black cat, lying in the sun. It was barely larger than a kitten, its ribs visible through its dull fur. His heart ached as he remembered Belle saving the mother cat and her kittens by bringing them into the Dark Castle.

He went into the refrigerator, looking for something to give it. He had to feed it, to save it. It was what Belle would have done.  She was gone, but he would do this for her memory.

He scraped tuna off of a half-finished sandwich onto a saucer and poured water into the matching teacup. Not the cup. That one was safe at his home. He could almost hear Belle laughing: the Dark One serving a stray cat on fine china dishes. He missed her laughter. He missed everything about her.   Feeling foolish, he opened the door, making as little noise as possible. The cat jumped and ran a short distance away. It turned to stare at him. “Here, kitty, kitty,” he called in a low voice. He put the water and tuna on the ground. “Little cat, look what I have for you.” The cat gazed at him with bleary gold eyes. One was nearly pasted shut. He knew it would never come while he stood there, so he closed the door. When he checked back in a few minutes, the cat had eaten the tuna and was lying in the sun again. Rumplestiltskin called Dove that evening and instructed him to purchase two cat dishes, wet and dry cat food, and cat treats. He delivered them the next day without comment, which was exactly how he liked it. And so started the routine: a can of food in the morning, dry food in the afternoon and always a bowl of fresh water. After a week he noticed the cat didn’t run as far when he opened the door. He set up a small table and chair not far from the bowls. He put out some treats, sat down and waited.  The little cat came and ate them while keeping a wary eye on this new development. No matter how crazy things started becoming in Storybrooke, he sat outside and had his tea every afternoon. The cat relaxed, coming closer each day. A few times it even came close enough for him to pet it. One day he sat down and the cat came running. It jumped on his lap, purring and butting its head against his hand for affection. It was difficult to speak around the lump in his throat. “Hello, little cat.” He stroked its black fur, no longer dull but glossy with health. Its bright gold eyes looked at him. Rumplestiltskin felt silly talking to a cat, but really, who else did he have to talk to? “I should give you a name. Names are important. I had cats once, back in my castle.  I could do magic then. You should have seen the treats I would conjure for them. I would sit in my kitchen and pet them, just like this. My caretaker had... gone, you see, and I was lonely. They were her cats, actually. I never even knew their names.  Why didn’t I ask her? She would have picked the perfect names. I would have given anything- well, I can’t name you. I won’t. The things I care for are always taken from me.” He placed the cat on the ground and returned to his shop, weary to his bones. Old. There was so much to do. There was magic to bring back to Storybrooke.

----

The jingle of the bell signaling the departure of the Charmings from his shop was a wonderful sound, second only to the one it made when it announced Belle's entrance.  When she walked in, picnic basket in hand and a smile on her face he almost forgot how to breathe. A smile. For him, the Dark One. Genuine smiles directed at him were rare things, precious. Then the Charmings had barged in, hurling accusations and interrupting their time together.

But Belle, his fearless scholar, had defended him. And now the “heroes” were gone. Rumplestiltskin was still tense. Belle would have questions. He needed to show her part of himself – pieces of truth, honesty of the heart. He wondered how large a piece of himself he would need to carve out.

Belle broke into his musings. “Rumple, I never pictured you as a dog person! Please tell me about your 'sheepdog or two'?”

He relaxed a bit. This piece he could give. It was still difficult. It had been years, centuries, since someone had been interested in him as a man, not as the Dark One. His instinct was deflection. Information was power. It could be used against you. Change was needed though, or he would lose her (again) forever. This would be good practice.

“You might have surmised from my hobby that I was a spinner in my previous life. What I spun was wool, into the finest yarn ever seen. And the best way to get good wool is to have your own sheep. And taking care of sheep is easier with a good sheepdog.”

“Were they just work animals or were they pets?” asked Belle, enthralled.

“I named my first dog Friend if that tells you anything.”

“That's so sweet, Rumple.”

“I was just a boy when I got him, and not very imaginative when it came to names. But he was my friend. I'm sure it is hard to believe, given my sunny disposition, but I didn't have many of those,” he said wryly. He continued in a more serious tone, “Having the unconditional love of a dog was a wonderful thing.”

He could have elaborated, explained. About the father who abandoned him. The villagers who shunned him. His aunties who loved him. It was the only good thing his father had ever done for him, and it wasn't even on purpose. Malcolm knew the women would jump at the opportunity to have a child, having no chance at one of their own. Luck was on his side, and they were loving and kind. No need to go into that now. Dogs. That was what honesty required today.

He continued, “My boy, Baelfire, had a limitless imagination. No plain name for his dog. He named him Sir Beric Dondarrion, Brave Hero of the Frontlands. He and that dog had many grand adventures. Slaying dragons, defeating ogres, saving damsels in distress. I looked forward to hearing his stories every night as I spun. Those were some of the happiest times of my life.”

Rumplestiltskin stopped. He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't bear to tell how the story of Bae's Sir Beric the Brave ended.

Hordor and his men taunting and threatening Bae. Bullies, all of them. The dog jumping to the boy's defense, growling and snapping. Hordor killing the dog without a thought, then laughing at his son's tears.

Killing Hordor was one of the most satisfying things Rumplestiltskin had done as the Dark One.

The silence was becoming awkward and he didn't know how to fill it. Belle saved him- she always saved him.

“Would you like to see what I brought for dessert?” she asked.

“Yes, I would,” he answered, grateful.

Belle chattered on, telling him in significant detail about the amazing cake whose ingredients came neatly packaged all in one box. He took a piece.

“Thank you,” he said. What he couldn't say was thank you for seeing I was trapped in my memories. Thank you for wanting to know me. And thank you for not forcing me to share more than I was ready for.              

----                                                                                                                                            Belle mentioned the reptile show in passing at breakfast. Rumple, busy making faces at a smiling Gideon, almost missed it.

“What did you say? Something about a reptile show?”

“I said I had to leave early to set up extra chairs. 'Forgotten Friend Reptile Sanctuary' is coming, and we always have an excellent turn out for storytime when there's a special presentation.”

“What kind of reptiles?”

“I don't know, I think the reptile lady said something about an iguana, some snakes, a chameleon. Why? Are you considering attending today?”

This had been a source of mild disagreement between them. Rumplestiltskin had assured her he thought it was important that she have time away from Gideon, and working a few mornings at the library made her happy. Having Gideon with him at his shop was the highlight of his week. But the Dark One did not attend storytime. Besides, Belle took him to baby lap-sit storytimes on one of the days she didn't work. He hadn't budged. But now....

“Just curious, that's all,” he answered, striving for nonchalance.

Belle gave them each a kiss, and she left.

9:50 found him hesitating at the door of the library. He told himself he ridiculous. The chameleon had never existed. It was a figment of Mr. Gold's cursed memories. But he remembered it so vividly. He had loved that wee lizard. And now was his chance to see one and show it to Gideon.

The chatter between the mothers died down as soon as they saw him enter the room. He sat down in a chair in the front middle of the semicircle, figuring it would give him the best view. He placed the diaper bag on the seat to his left, and Gideon's blanket to his right to dissuade anyone from sitting next to him.

Belle was speaking to a woman wearing a “Forgotten Friend” shirt. She turned to see what had caused everyone to quiet down.

“Rumple!” she said, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Gideon wanted to see the reptiles,” he answered, bouncing the smiling six-month-old on his lap.

The woman saved him from a further reply.

“Hello, my name is Miss Pam. If all the children would come sit on the floor in front of me, we can begin.”

Rumplestiltskin waited through the snakes, the anoles, the bearded dragons, the iguana, and others. Children raised their hands to volunteer to be helpers as she uncovered cages and presented each one.

There was only one cage left.

“Who would like to help present our last friend?” asked Miss Pam. “I'll give you a clue as to her identity- she can change colors.”

Rumplestiltskin stood little Gideon on his lap and raised the boy's hand. He could feel Belle's eyes boring into the back of his head at this out of character behavior. He would have to explain later.

Miss Pam smiled.  “How about this young man,” she said, pointing at Gideon.

He stood up, holding Gideon on one hip as Miss Pam uncovered the chameleon's cage. She talked for a few minutes about its diet, its ability to change colors and its natural habitat.

“Mr. Gold, this veiled chameleon is quite tame. Could I let her out? She’ll climb on you and the children can get a closer look.”

“Yes, I'd like that very much.”

Belle continued to stare at him, flabbergasted.

The chameleon climbed to his left shoulder. Rumplestiltskin couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. From his right hip Gideon watched, wide-eyed.

He heard nothing else that was said until the presentation was over and Miss Pam put the lizard away. He thanked the woman and made his way with Gideon to the back of the library. Belle was waiting.

“Rumple-”

“I'm sure you have questions. I'll tell you everything. Tonight.”

“I look forward to it,” Belle said, taking his hand.

A week later,  he came home to a box wrapped in gold paper sitting on the kitchen table.

“Who's this for?” he asked.

“Gideon and I wanted to get you a surprise. Hurry, open it!” said Belle. Gideon babbled with excitement, pointing at the present.

He took his time removing the wrapping, folding it into a neat square. He lifted the lid and saw a box of crickets, mealworms, a container of calcium dust and a bottle filled with bright orange cubes.

“What’s all this?”

“Come see in your office,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading the way.

He stopped short in the doorway. Next to his desk was a large reptile habitat full of beautiful plants. And a chameleon. “I contacted the 'Forgotten Friend' and they were agreeable to placing her with us. With the understanding that she can attend the occasional show.”

He opened the door of the habitat, and the lizard climbed up to his shoulder again. Gideon clapped his hands, wiggling with excitement.

“Who's a bonnie wee lass?” he asked the chameleon in a low tone, stroking it with one finger just as he had as a boy. His curse memories and the present came together, and he felt at peace.

“What's her name?”

“She doesn't have one yet. I thought we could come up with a name together.”

“That would be perfect.”

[authorloremipsum]

Profoundly Unprofessional

A “The Glass Scientists” fanfiction

Words - 3478

Characters - Sergeant Brokenshire, Dr. Jekyll, Mrs. Cantilupe, Ms. Lavender, mothman

Summary - Sergeant Brokenshire realizes that he and his men have encountered something, curious, and goes to the one place where he knows they might get some help. In the process, he glimpses a side of Doctor Jekyll he didn’t know existed.

Inspired by and written for @zolotaya-orda

    Sergeant Brokenshire saw a lot of strange things in his time working in London, monsters rampaging in the streets, houses destroyed by extraordinary circumstances, and murders more horrific than anything that could be dreamed up in the minds of men. Thank goodness all those kinds of events were few and far between, otherwise one would probably lose their mind. However, the fact of the matter was that these things did happen and that made every day a luck of the draw as to what mad event was going to happen.

    This week had started with the discovery of a thieves’ den near the outskirts of Soho, and after months of looking for these  burglars, they’d finally been lead right to the source. It went well though, plenty of arrests and only a few of the suspects getting away, but there had to be a catch. When they moved to enter the basement, something was waiting, and it scratched a sleeve of of poor Wipple’s coat!

    The man was fine of course, if a bit spooked, but the officers assembled had a unanimous agreement. Whatever was down there was not something they could deal with, and it didn’t help that they’d released it into the rest of the house running from the cellar. They’d need someone to catch it.

    And, unfortunately, Brokenshire knew precisely where to find such a person.

    In truth he had no qualms with the Society of Arcane Sciences, mostly a high level of suspicion for most of their “activities” and a few of their Lodgers. The Sinnett fellow, as shy and polite as he seemed, had caused quite a bit of trouble in the past, same for that man Luckett and his stupid hat. But that didn’t make them bad people necessarily, just incredibly odd.

    Of course it started raining as he climbed the few steps to the front door, knocking politely but firmly. When a moment passed and no one answered, he rung the doorbell, impatiently folding his arms against the cold, glad the overhang shielded him from the cold drizzle. There was the sound of a lock sliding and one of the doors was pulled open, revealing a young woman with ash, was it ash? All over her face.

    Brokenshire frowned, “Madam, I’m looking-”

    “For Doctor Jekyll,” they said, frowning a little. “What’s happened?”

    “I, seek his assistance,” the sergeant said, well, admitted really. The woman nodded slowly and pulled open the door, “You’re probably freezing out there, it’s warmer inside.” He stared at them a moment, only then realizing he was being invited inside.

    With a bit of apprehension, he stepped through the door and it shut behind him with a click. It smelled a bit like smoke in here, but also like cinnamon and peppermint, and odd combination that wasn’t actually pleasant to smell. Brokenshire fought the urge to wrinkle his nose at it as the woman passed by, hurrying towards a room he could see with the door wide open. A familiar ginger-haired man with only one hand was on the landing outside, fanning his face and coughing.

    As the woman neared he called down: “Maybe we should start with a simpler base?”

    “I think so!” they answered, climbing the stairs. The man glanced up towards Brokenshire, went pale, and darted back into the smoke-filled room, clearly intimidated by the presence of an officer.

    And so Brokenshire had been left there in the lobby, lit with the grey light drifting through the skylights overhead, dripping cold water, only the slightest bit nervous about the strange things that took up the lobby. Ahead, the large double doors were pushed open and the exact scientist Brokenshire had come to find stepped out with a book in hand, reading.

    He caught sight of the guest, closed the book, and hurried over. “Why, Sergeant Brokenshire! What brings you to our humble Society? I do hope nothing has happened.”

    “Nothing’s wrong,” he answered, shaking with Jekyll upon his approach. “In fact I, and I don’t want to impose, but we found something curious in a thieves’ den that seemed to er, fit some of your Lodgers’... Expertise.”

    Jekyll frowned a little, folding his arms and tilting his head curiously, “Your tone implies it is some sort of animal, I do hope no one was injured.”

    “Constable Wipple was scratched, but it’s nothing serious, we were lucky no one else got hurt.”

    “And it’s entirely possible that scratch could be far worse than we know, some creatures are known to spread diseases in such a manner, it was wise of you to come for our help,” Jekyll said, putting a gloved hand to his chin in thought, the other tucked behind his back. He gasped, “Oh! You must be frozen to the bone! Can I take your coat?”

    “As much as I appreciate it, I think we have more pressing matters than my coat,” Brokenshire deadpanned. Jekyll nodded, “Of course, please follow me, I know precisely who can help with your situation.”

    “Thank you doctor.” Brokenshire took a moment to shake his cloak free of any clinging raindrops before following Jekyll into the Society. He’d seen the lobby many times before, but never the interior corridors which seemed to branch in many impossible directions as they walked. If he wasn’t with the doctor, he certainly would’ve been lost in no time!

    After a minute or so of peaceful walking, Jekyll began to speak again. “We’ve two zoologists on our roster. Mrs. Cantilupe, senior extremofaunic zoologist, and Ms. Lavender, her pupil.”

    “Extremofaunic, implying monsters,” the sergeant said, watching Jekyll with a small frown. “You aren’t keeping a lab full of monsters are you Jekyll?”

    The doctor chuckled, “Certainly not! And even if we were, I have the utmost trust in those two to keep it under control. They’ve tamed some very ferocious creatures, and I have no doubt you will be at least somewhat impressed by the creatures they’ve got.”

    “Then you admit they are out of the ordinary?”

    “Of course! What about the Society would you call ordinary Sergeant?” He chuckled again and Brokenshire couldn’t help but frown, furrowing his brow a little bit. Eventually they came to a heavy looking door that Jekyll had to use his whole weight to open and keep open. The sounds of animal cries, which had been quiet before, rose to a crescendo and Brokenshire was hesitant to walk in.

    Not that he’d let that show on his face, especially in front of Jekyll who was someone he definitely needed to keep intimidated. If this doctor who clearly knew more than he let on about thought he had an upper hand on the police, he might try to do something more drastic than taking criminals and monsters under his wing. So Brokenshire shelved his anxieties and strode into the lab.

    Only for there to be a shriek like a banshee to his left that caused him to nearly jump out of his skin.

    “Mrs. Cantilupe?” called Jekyll as he shut the door and walked into the lab, sounding only the slightest bit unnerved. Oh, oh he was good, how many other things could he hide behind that porcelain facade? “Ms. Lavender? Are you in? Sergeant Brokenshire is in need of your help with a pest in, oh where did you say you found it?”

    “Soho, in a house where a number of Jewel thieves had been hiding,” he answered, suddenly distracted by a snake watching him from a cross hatched cage nearby. Its scales seemed to change colors and he squinted, stepping closer to get a better look. Canvas suddenly dropped over the cage, obscuring his view, and he looked up to see a young woman with dark hair and glasses grinning at him while leaning over the stack of cages and crates.

    “Careful Sergeant, Chroma here normally hypnotizes prey with that little trick you just saw,” she said, patting the cage and giggling at the resulting hiss from inside. She climbed down and walked around to meet them, “Soho you said?”

    “And you are Mrs. Cantilupe I presume?” Brokenshire asked, gesturing to her. The woman blinked and laughed, “Oh no! I’m Lavender, her student, Mrs. C should be around here somewhere.”

    “GANGWAY!!” shouts a voice, accompanied by a rumbling sound. They all looked down the alley of cages to see a very fat lizard with a colorful frill charge around the corner, scrambling towards the door behind them. (thankfully shut)

    It didn’t seem to care there were people in the way and ran at them, claws scratching on the wood floor as it barreled past, massive tail swishing side to side and knocking into things as it ran. An older woman skid around the corner barely a second after it, a rope with a loop on the end in hand. She let out a war cry and gave chase, practically shoving Brokenshire aside as she lunged for this massive lizard.

    The loop went around its neck and the woman pulled, watching it slip behind the frills and go tight, catching the creature in its tracks. She placed a foot on its back and held it in place, “You hang on now, I’ve business to attend to!” With a firm nod, she looked up at the guests and pulled down her goggles, replacing them with a pair of respectable spectacles. “Now, Doctor I see you’ve brought our good friend the sergeant and I heard something about a creature in Soho? Do tell, did it have teeth?”

    “Many,” Brokenshire answered, thinking back to it. “Though, more like a beak. And it had wings and these odd things sticking up from its head. It was covered in fur and feathers, with bright red eyes. Was perfectly silent till we came down the stairs, and then it lunged at Wipple.”

    “Did it bite him? Scratch him? Or did it go for the throat?” Cantilupe asked, casually tying the lizard up like a cowboy tying up a calf. Brokenshire blinked, surprised by this, before answering: “It bit him, cut right through his sleeve the poor bloke. But it ran before anyone could catch it, after chasing us out of course. Ferocious little bugger.”

    “It’s not that big then?” asked Lavender, walking to help her mentor pick up the wiggling and irritated lizard. It was only then that Brokenshire realized just how bloody long that animal’s tail was.

    “It was about the size of a small child, and just as angry,” he explained, earning a polite chuckle from Jekyll. Cantilupe and Lavender shared a look before the senior zoologist said: “Go get our net traps and that unfortunate mouse from a week ago.”

    “For bait Missus?”

    “Indeed. We’ll also need a rope and a medium cage. Oh! And make sure you grab our defensive jackets.”

    “Yes ma’am.”

    “Defensive jacket?” Brokenshire asked, eyes going wide. Cantilupe chuckled and easily picked up the trussed up lizard, “Of course! Can’t have everyone getting injured now can we?” He stared as she strolled off, waving to them. “Do wait for us dearies, we won’t be ten minutes I promise.”

    A beat passed and Brokenshire slowly turned to look at Jekyll, who smiled pleasantly after Mrs. C. When he noticed the Sergeant’s stare he said: “Yes? What’s that look for?”

    “You expect them to catch this thing?” he demanded, gesturing with his hands. “They’re-”

    “They best suited for this job,” Jekyll interrupted before his friends could be insulted. “Sergeant, would I lie to you? Honestly?”

    Brokenshire squinted suspiciously, and did not answer, watching as Jekyll turned with a nod and strolled towards the door. He hesitated to follow, only hurrying after when something barked in a cage nearby and made him jump.

~

    They arrived at the house in Soho a little less than half an hour later, and it was still raining. Though, doctor Jekyll was so kindly sharing an umbrella with the Sergeant as he silently opened the door to the house, allowing the Rogue Scientists entry. He’d already warned them that the creature was loose in the house, and upon arrival they received confirmation that it was still contained within the house. Every so often a horrifying shriek would come from within when one of the officers spotted it through a window and it darted away before they could get close.

    Lavender and Cantilupe singlehandedly carried their gear in, and even as Brokenshire insist Doctor Jekyll wait outside, he insisted with equal confidence that it was of utmost importance he was a part of it, to act as a sort of overseer. Lavender whispered behind his back that he was just as eager to see this strange creature as she and Cantilupe were! Brokenshire had to marvel, you wouldn’t have even been able to tell!

    In any case, the house was very quiet as Cantilupe and Lavender surveyed the first rooms, setting up a few traps and going to do a search of the house. Their footsteps could be heard along the floor as Jekyll and Brokenshire waited patiently in the meagerly furnished parlor. It smelled of pipe smoke and something else foul, the silence set everything on edge, and it  clearly unsettled Brokenshire, for he kept a hand on his nightstick and couldn’t manage to stand still.

    Jekyll, on the other hand, appeared wholly calm, writing in a small notebook without a word as he listened to the room around them.

    There was a small scratching noise and he shut his book. Brokenshire visibly stiffened at the sound, grip becoming tigher on his weapon as he slowly looked towards a dark hall, the source of the sound. Out of the corner he saw Jekyll stand, placing his tophat aside and unclasping his cloak, holding it out before him like a blanket. Was he going to catch this thing as one tries to catch a stray cat?

    Did he not see the wound on Constable Wipple?

    The scratching sound came again and Brokenshire watched as Jekyll approached the hallway, silent as the creature he was watching for. If he was afraid, it was impossible to tell.

    Well, until a creature lunged from the darkness in a black blur with red eyes and sent him stumbling back with a shout. Brokenshire stepped back in shock, watching it slam first into Jekyll’s cloak and then into the doctor himself, sending them both falling back. Though he tried to wrap it in the blanket and contain it, sharp taloned feet tore through the fancy dark fabric as it flailed and screeched.

    The Sergeant stood frozen unsure what to do as it suddenly leaped from Jekyll and darted behind a sofa. The doctor rolled over onto his knees, looking a bit startled with a nasty looking scratch across his cheek, and a tiny grin tugged at his mouth. He pulled off his gloves and coat, throwing them both aside and picking up what remained of his cloak before approaching the sofa.

    “Sergeant, the other side, if you would,” he asked politely, voice as charming and polite as ever, as if they weren’t after a creature that had just attacked him. Brokenshire nodded firmly, not quite sure why he was following orders, and stepped around the couch. Whatever it was hissed at him and backed away, its glowing red eyes narrowed, the strange antennae on its head bent back in anger.

    Brokenshire knelt, staring at this black, feathered creature with curiosity, not noticing as Jekyll reached behind the sofa and grabbed it. With a sharp pull, he pulled it out by the leg with a horrific shriek, only managing to hold it for a second before a clearly powerful wing smacked him in the face and caused him to drop the creature in surprise.

    It scrambled to its stubby, turkey-like legs and ran at Brokenshire, he gasped and raised the nightstick in defense.

    Only to lower it in surprise when this small, black, fluffy thing didn’t lunge, instead darting at his feet and trying to hide behind him. It seemed to be cowering like a child behind his rain cloak, still wet from before.

    Jekyll sat up and spit a single black, fluffy feather from his mouth. His clothes were covered in dust, normally neat fringe a fluffy mess, and he had multiple scratches on his arms and face. Despite this, he wore a wide grin like nothing Brokenshire had seen before, eyes sparkling. “It’s a chick!”

    “This thing is a chick?” the sergeant asked, utterly dumfounded at how the child-sized animal at his feet could possible be a chick. Jekyll stood, dusting himself off, eyes wide with awe, “Look at the feathers, they’re all fluffy and only a few primaries have grown in! The beak is still soft, but sharp enough to-” he paused, as if listening to something, before chuckling and standing up a bit straighter.

    And suddenly the mask was back on, or so Brokenshire noticed as Jekyll began to dust off his clothing. He had just had a glimpse of the real Henry Jekyll, and had nearly missed it in his fear of the animal that was very clearly afraid and cowering behind his legs.

    “It’s, just scared, is all I meant to say,” Jekyll said coolly, smiling and gesturing slowly with his hand. “Kneel slowly, keep your hands open, and put the nightstick away.”

    “I’ve dealt with frightened animals before Doctor Jekyll, I can handle it,” Brokenshire said, lifting his cloak a little and slowly kneeling to be on an equal level with this strange creature. It seemed startled, and shied away from his touch at first, but it didn’t bite or claw when he tried to smooth down its fear-fluffed feathers. In fact, after a few pets, it let out an oddly human sounding chirp noise, head tilting to the side.

    It was, bloody adorable.

    Of course the sergeant would never admit this, not in front of his men and especially not in front of Jekyll, who was now able to pick up the creature.

The women zoologists came running moments after the sounds of scuffle had died, and Mrs. Cantilupe let out a delighted sound upon seeing the creature in Jekyll’s arms. She and Lavender acquainted themselves with the creature, who seemed much more comfortable now that it wasn’t being chased and knew these strangers weren’t going to attack it. Its bright red eyes looked to Brokenshire though, as if it were curious

    It took some coaxing, but eventually Lavender could get it into the cage they’d brought. Her mentor remarked that its feathers seemed similar to some american birds, perhaps it had been smuggled. The whole exchange had Brokenshire staring at her and at the mussed up Jekyll with a look of confusion and subtle fear.

    They weren’t afraid of this thing or the prospect that strange American creatures were being smuggled into London, in fact, they seemed thrilled to meet the little devil. (What else could it be?)

    Before long though, they’d loaded the boxes into a carriage, gathered their supplies, and the zoologists certified that there was nothing stranger in the house than some large mice. Brokenshire kept silent when his men asked him where the creature was being taken, because he didn’t quite know. He’d overheard the older woman, Cantilupe, remarking how she was going to send a letter to an associate in the states about him coming to take the, oh what had she called it, Noctuidae sapien?

    He was going to call it a crow-child.

    Jekyll sent his Lodgers on their way, watching with intrigue as the police investigation picked up where it had left off, and only after a few minutes did Brokenshire realize he wanted to speak.

    His hair was still mussed from the scuffle, but the cut on his face had stopped bleeding. “Sergeant, thank you for coming to me with this, I do imagine you’ve just assisted my friends in their science quite a bit. Not every day you find a creature from the States in London after all.”

    “Yes well, I didn’t want anyone getting hurt unnecessarily,” Brokenshire answered, folding his arms behind him, giving Jekyll a meaningful look. The gentleman laughed, “You mock me for my impulsivity, but I was merely following my, better judgement. Better I put myself in harm’s way than someone getting hurt on accident.”

    “You knew you risked injury then?”

    “Of course! No action is without risk Sergeant, it merely takes a bit of, prodding, to take that risk,” Jekyll said, nodding. And again, the mask slipped from Jekyll’s face. His smile was a little wide, his eyes held a dangerous twinkle that dared to ask: What if? And just like before, it was only for a second that he could be seen.

He donned his hat, opened his umbrella, and set off into the rain. “Good afternoon Brokenshire, perhaps I will see you again soon under better circumstances yes?”