Dan wasn't panicking, he was just living frantically. Agreeing to meet some sort of benevolent Granny Goodness had that effect on a man. Nothing got the blood flowing quite like impending doom. There was a train coming and Dan was tied to the tracks.

Fortunately, he could teleport.

Dan needed help, and badly. But, there was hope. There was one person, one brave, kind person, who might provide him the tools to survive his oncoming trial. He went to them, this saviour, and fell prostrate at their feet, begging for succor.

"YOU GOTTA HELP ME MISS MARGARET!" Dan wailed, clinging desperately to a thick black skirt.

The middle-aged woman in a frilly black bonnet looked down in bewilderment. "Daniel? What's wrong?"

"Abby coerced me into going to your family reunion!" Dan immediately tattled.

Margaret blinked. "Oh."

A moment passed as they both quietly contemplated his impending doom.

Margaret sighed. "Let's get some hot chocolate into you and talk."

Five minutes later, Dan sat in the Pearson lobby bundled in blankets and sipping on cocoa. The hotel was as thematic as ever; its sandalwood smell and quiet atmosphere soothed his frayed nerves. This was his home for the next week. He wasn't the sole patron, but the building was empty enough that he didn't fear making a scene of himself.

Miss Margaret hovered nearby, shaking her head in consternation. "Honestly, that girl. Why would she think dragging you into that wolves den is a good idea?"

"She said that I'd make it bearable for her," Dan confided. He took a greedy slurp of his beverage, savoring the taste. Chocolate was truly formidable in its ability to make everything seem alright.

Temporarily, at least.

"Well, you're the fool who agreed to go. Why on Earth would you do such a thing?" Margaret asked.

"She gave me the look!" Dan protested. He waved at his face with his free hand. "With her big eyes and trembling lips! I couldn't say no to that; it would be like kicking a puppy!"

"It's a family reunion, Daniel," Margaret informed him with a huff. "Dear Abigail's social skills have always been a bit lacking, but I would have expected you to know better."

Her brow furrowed. "Wait a minute. Are you dating my niece, Daniel?"

"What?" Dan squawked. "No!"

"Are you sure? She invited you to meet the family, and you agreed." Margaret waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Of course I'm sure! I think I would know something like that," Dan replied shrilly.

"I'd certainly hope so, but young people these days..." Margaret sighed dramatically. "Your ways are a mystery to this old lady."

Dan sipped sullenly at his hot chocolate.

Margaret patted his shoulder. "So you've committed yourself to an evening with my in-laws. My condolences. How can I help?"

"I need dirt on Abby's grandma," Dan decided instantly. "What she's like, what she likes, how I can make a good impression on her, things like that."

"A good place to start." Margaret nodded. "That woman is certainly of vicious character. Quite a scary soul. Why, I remember this one time—"

"No!" Dan interrupted. "No no no! No more scary stories about the Iron Lady. I had enough of that from Abby, thank you."

"Fair enough," Margaret conceded with a laugh. "Well then, how best to describe Anastasia Summers..."

She visibly mulled over the question. After a moment, she clicked her tongue.

"I don't know of a way to describe her that isn't scary," Margaret admitted sheepishly.

Daniel slumped in place.

"I can say that she loves her family dearly," Margaret said slowly, "but that doesn't help you. You aren't related to her, after all. She's a bit... cold to outsiders."

"But I'm Abby's friend, not just some random guy," Dan pointed out optimistically. "Surely she'll take that into account?"

Margaret winced. "Oh you poor child. You are absolutely some random guy to her."

Dan slurped urgently at his cocoa. "How did you get her to like you?"

"Oh, she hates me," Margaret admitted cheerfully. "The bitch tried to have me tossed into the Atlantic after the first time we met."

Dan choked violently on his drink. Chocolate sprayed out of his nose and stained the front of his shirt. Margaret deftly stole away his cup as he collapsed into a ball, hacking and wheezing. He couldn't recall her ever cursing before.

"I— I don't think I should be asking you for advice," Dan choked out inbetween coughs.

"Nonsense," Margaret chided sternly, refilling his cocoa from a larger pitcher nearby. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Dan nodded morosely.

"Mrs. Summers hates me, but she is perfectly capable of being civil to someone that she hates," the older woman confided. "I suspect that she would have ignored me entirely had I not been engaged to one of her children."

"I don't know if that should comfort me or not," Dan stated uncertainly, accepting a refilled mug of cocoa from Margaret.

She clinked her own cup against his. "A little of both, I think."

"So you think I should just keep my head down during the reunion?" Dan clarified a little desperately. Abby was his friend, and he wanted to make her happy, but he was growing increasingly concerned that his worries were actually justified. He'd read his fair share of shadowy corporate fiction. The uber-wealthy were fucking terrifying. How could he possibly make a good impression? Better yet, how could he avoid making a bad one?

"You've made it sound like Abby wants to personally introduce you," Margaret pointed out, "so I doubt lying low is an option."

Daniel groaned into his hand. "What the heck am I supposed to do?"

"Invest heavily in petroleum jelly," Margaret suggested cheekily.

Dan cringed. "Oh god! Should you really be saying things like that to a junior like me?"

"Yes yes, woe to your innocent ears." Margaret waved dismissively. "You're too young to worry so much!"

"Old Granny Genocide is gonna think I've been boinking her granddaughter," Dan moaned in self-pity. "She's gonna cut off my junk and toss me into the sea!"

"Well with that attitude, maybe," Margaret replied, smacking Dan over the head. "Listen up! I'm going to tell you exactly what to do when you meet her."

Dan perked up, straightening in his seat and staring desperately at Margaret.

"Yes! You've had to deal with these people for years! Teach me, wise one!" Dan beseeched her.

Margaret rolled her eyes. "The first thing you'll have to do is find your spine. I know you have one, but you seem to have dropped it on your way here."

"I threw it overboard when I thought it might get me into trouble," Dan confessed shamelessly. "It had this really unfortunate interaction with my mouth, you see." In that it made him open it up and defend himself. Dan was perfectly willing to sacrifice his dignity in this sort of situation. Pissing off Abby's grandmother wouldn't help anyone.

But it seemed like he was on the wrong track. Margaret snorted at his explanation.

"I'm not saying you should insult her, but Anastasia will eat you alive if you don't show a little backbone. That was my mistake."

Dan frowned into his drink. Frankly, he was concerned that he would insult her. That was precisely the problem. Marcus had been his primary conversation partner for weeks. His automatic response to any kind of needling would be, to put it lightly, a tidal wave of vitriol. Calling Abby's beloved grandmother a bitter old hag would be an... unfortunate turn of events. Spending the evening as a meek shadow of himself seemed the preferable option.

But if he put aside his worries? If he actually cared to have some pride?

"I don't care if she likes me," Dan decided slowly. "I just want Abby to have a good time."

Margaret nodded. "That's the correct attitude to take, I think."

Dan straightened in his seat. "I don't care if she likes me."

"You... just said that, yes," Margaret agreed.

Dan stood up off the couch and loudly proclaimed, "I don't care if she likes me!"

"Getting a little worrried, now," Margaret muttered quietly.

Dan spun around and wrapped her in a hug. "I don't care if she likes me!"

"Daniel!" Margaret's hands clamped onto his cheeks.

He blinked, his eyes clearing. "Sorry Miss Margaret. I was having a moment."

"Anastasia still has to like you a little," Margaret informed him .

"But why?" he whined melodramatically.

"She practically raised Abby for a few years. You really want to blatantly offend Abby's parental figure?"

"Ahh fuck me," Daniel stated sourly. "Now I remember why I wanted her to like me."

"No, you had the right idea," Margaret corrected him. "That woman can sniff out a brown-noser from a mile away.

Better to be yourself, with a few small additions to tilt things in your favor."

"I can do small additions," Dan accepted quickly.

"We'll need to get you a proper suit." The older woman eyed Dan's casual wear with distaste. "Anastasia has traditional tastes. None of your newfangled outfits will do."

"O...kay?" Dan replied uncertainly. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Nothing about his outfit could be described as 'newfangled'.

"Second, don't look her in the eye for too long," Margaret advised. "She's like a wild wolf, she see's it as a challenge."

Odd, but doable. Dan nodded.

"Finally..." Margaret paused, considering her words.

She shrugged. "You're probably going to want to lie about the size of your business."

"Excuse me?" Dan said blankly.

"Your courier business?" Margaret elaborated. "Lie about the size. I don't know what your numbers are, but triple them at minimum."

"Is that likely to come up?" Dan asked incredulously.

Margaret exhaled forcefully. "It's rude to ask about one's personal business, and you can always expect Anstasia to be rude to strangers."

She eyed Dan with suspicion. "Especially strange men on the arm of her favorite granddaughter."

"Still not dating Abby," Dan replied wearily.

Margaret harrumphed. "As you say."

Dan sighed. "So it sounds like I need to buy some new clothes."

"Indeed," Margaret confirmed.

"Could you help me with that?"

"I could," Margaret said deliberately, "but perhaps you should ask Abby to help you? Perhaps she has a preference. Perhaps she might wish to coordinate your outfits."

She cast a gimlet eye at Daniel. "Perhaps she is hoping you'll ask her."

"Stop trying to set us up, meddlesome woman."

"Anastasia is not the only one who dotes on Abigail," Margaret tittered. She leaned back in her chair, fanning at the air. "Regardless, you should ask her. She won't think poorly of you, you know this."

Dan appeared to have swallowed a lemon. "I don't want her to know that her Mama Ana terrifies me."

"She terrifies everyone," Margaret informed him cheerfully. "Go, you young fool. Go ask your friend for help. She'll be glad for the excuse to dress you up properly."

Dan ignored the jab at his fashion sense. "I'll ask her tomorrow. It'd be too weird to go back there now."

"Men," Margaret bemoaned.

Dan huffed and sipped at his cocoa.

"Well, if you're quite finished, I need to mind my post." Margaret stood up, dusting off her dress, and walked towards the hotel bank.

"Sure," Dan said casually. "Thanks for the help. I'll be in and out all week. If I somehow don't catch you, I'll see you at the reunion."

Margaret paused mid-step. She glanced over her shoulder to Daniel. "Oh, I won't be there. I haven't been invited since my husband died."

"Oh." Dan shifted awkwardly. "Sorry."

Margaret laughed. "Don't be. They're a horrible pack of prima donnas and I'm well rid of them."

She exited the lobby, leaving Dan alone with his thoughts.

The primary of which was that he might have been a little narrow in his focus. Abby had a big family, after all. Grandma Voorhees might be the least of his worries.