Xaxac laid on the bed as still as he could, soas not to disturb the quilt, which was so soft that he thought it must be expensive. There were tiles running along the ceiling with pictures of little flowers on them. They were beautiful to look at, and he had absolutely nothing else to do. He had already gone through everything else in the room, already stared at the paintings that hung on the far wall. The two in front of him were of flowers, and looked similar enough that he had thought, at first, that they were exactly the same, but they were not. He did not know that art could be commissioned as a matched set, and wondered why someone had painted the same flower twice. The painting that hung over the bed was a landscape, but he had purposely avoided looking at it, because it was likely the most interesting thing in the room, and he had no idea how long he would be in there, so he thought he should save it for a fit of desperation.

Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and tried to practice his numbers. His parents had taught him, when he was young, to count, because it made assigning tasks easier. It was easier to tell someone to do something when they knew what they were doing. He had always liked counting, and tended to do it in order to get himself through things he disliked. He would count the rows in the fields, for example, so that he would know how many he had done, and how many he had still to go. His parents were not learned people, and thus did not know all the numbers, so when he came to particularly large sums, he was at a disadvantage. He did not know how many grains of wheat grew in the fields, nor how many stalks, but he knew how many rows.

There were ten of the tiles in each row, and six rows of them. He counted each individually at first, then up and down, then side to side, then from the outward in. The answer was always the same: sixty. Ten columns and six rows would always be sixty.

It was very quiet in the room. He could hear himself breathing, hear his heart beating, hear his blood pumping through his veins. If he listened very closely, he could hear something from the sitting room, but it was an unfamiliar sound, something he could not place. It, too, seemed to be consistent. It made a sort of ‘tick tick tick’ sound, at regular intervals, and he wondered what it was.

He wondered all sorts of things.

He wondered what was wrong with Mrs OfAgalon that made her hate everyone. He wondered if she perhaps thought that she was better than them, and how foolish that was of her because she was, clearly, just as human as everyone else. They were the same, and he thought that made her angry, but he knew that was a foolish thing to be angry about. He wondered if she had heard him call her foolish.

He wondered how old he was. He had remembered Allie saying that he was too old to train to be a butler, and had considered himself a ‘big boy’ for some time. He wore clothes meant for people who fell into that category, and did jobs assigned to them as well. Both of his parents had referred to him, and to his sister, as “damn near grown” several times. But there was a difference between being grown and being nearly grown, though it was a nebulous concept that he didn’t really understand. He knew he wasn’t grown enough to have anyone want to start a family with him, and that seemed to be a milestone that really marked the change.

Xac wondered why men had their ‘grownness’ measured by women. He had often heard his father, and the other men, talk about men they worked with, judging their maturity level based on their interactions with women. He had often heard phrases such as ‘can’t get a woman’ or ‘can’t keep a woman’ and he had a vague idea what that sort of thing meant. Grown men were supposed to be able to get a woman to live with them, to stay with them, but Xac wasn’t sure how one went about doing that, or why it was so important.

He supposed it was important because that was how one got children, and people were often judged on their children. Children were referenced by their parents; he was often called, by the adults and sometimes even other people his own age, as “Abe’s boy”. It was strange to hear Agalon say that Abe wasn’t his father. He always thought he did rather well by his father, and if other people were going to judge Abe and Abby based on Xac, they could judge them well.

Abe could also be judged well because he apparently knew how to get and keep a woman, but Xac wasn’t sure what he did differently than the other men, because he didn’t really know them that well. He had suspected this was a secret his father would tell him about, eventually, but now he wondered if he would ever get out of this room again.

He wondered why his mother had looked as if she had been crying, but he thought he figured that one out pretty easily. She was worried about him. She knew, as well as Xac did, that he was being judged on his monstrocity, and she was worried he would fail.

Xac wondered what would happen to him if he failed. Would he be sold? Killed? Punished? There were stories of a place in town, a building where people would take their slaves to be beaten as punishment. Apparently there were people on the plantation who had gone there, but Xac had never known any of them. It was the sort of thing a person heard about third-hand in rumors, like the Emerald Knight who would get you if you ran away. Xaxac was a good boy, so he didn’t need to worry about that sort of thing.

He wondered how long he would be in this room.

There were sixty tiles on the ceiling.

The lighting was changing, turning from the crisp, clear sunlight to a yellow-tinted gold, then a grey dusk, which told him that it was nearing dinner time. He was starving, but he wasn’t sure he would be given anything to eat. He had missed lunch because he had come to the house, but he didn’t understand why he was so hungry, because he hadn’t done anything to work up and appetite. After he had explored the room he had run out of things to do, and climbed back into the wardrobe for a bit, then under the bed, then had spent the past few hours just lying on it, staring up at the ceiling.

At the sixty tiles.

He didn’t know if he could sleep here.

He wondered if he could hear the cock crow so far from the chicken run. He wondered how he was going to get up before dawn if he couldn’t. He didn’t want to mess up so badly on his first day and give Mrs OfAgalon anything to complain about. He had to get up on time. But he didn’t know how. Maybe he just wouldn’t fall asleep.

Maybe he would feel better when he had something to do, when he started work in earnest tomorrow.

Maybe someone else would come up here.

Tick Tick Tick went something in the other room.

There were still sixty tiles on the ceiling.

He sat bolt upright. Something changed. There were faint sounds coming from the sitting room. He didn’t know exactly what they meant, but he had an idea that they were signs of life. After the hours he had spent alone he would be grateful to see even Mrs OfAgalon again, but he didn’t want to give her anything to complain about, so he stood, smoothed out the bed, fluffed the pillow back up, then ran to the mirror. He smoothed out his clothes and unrolled his sleeves, decided that they looked too wrinkled that way and rolled them back up. He moved quickly, and had just finished when he heard the blessed sound of metal on metal.

A key must have clicked the lock into place.

The doorknob turned.

Master Agalon stepped into the room, and Xac realized in that moment why he had looked out of place in the field. He matched this place perfectly. He belonged here, with the other beautiful, soft, expensive things. He was still wearing the outfit he had worn on the field, except for the cape, and he was staring at Xac with his sparkling emerald eyes.

“Don’t you look cute?” He asked and smiled with his perfect teeth.

Xaxac had a million things to tell him, but seeing him here like this, the man who would decide his fate, who could end his life on a whim, looking so perfect and beautiful, surrounded by perfection and beauty, made everything he had to say seem… lacking perfection and beauty. He didn’t know how to bring problems into perfection, didn’t know how to shatter the crafted elegance of everything around him, so he stared dumbly, and from the outside looking in, it probably seemed as if he hadn’t understood the question.

It didn’t help his situation that a question about his appearance, which Mrs OfAgalon had been so particular about, was not at all a greeting, though Agalon seemed to think it was, and as such it threw off Xaxac’s working knowledge of politeness. His mother had told him to be polite, but so much time had passed since Agalon had spoken that he feared that ship had already sailed.

“You look scared,” Agalon said with concern and took a step forward with his hands outstretched, making soft shusshing noises until he was able to lay them on Xaxac’s shoulders, “Don’t be scared, darlin. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

He wasn’t going to hurt him! Did that mean that he wasn’t going to punish him? Wasn’t going to sell him? It probably meant that he wasn’t going to kill him.

“Thank you,” Xac said, because it was polite, and because it made sense, and those were the two most important things on his mind.

“It makes sense that you would be scared,” Agalon agreed as he squeezed Xac’s shoulders, “I did some research today, on rabbits, on rodents in general, and I know that you’re skittish. I want you to be comfortable. It’s much nicer in here than it is out in the fields, ain’t it?” His smile widened as his eyes moved up and down, taking in Xac’s new outfit, and he said again, almost as if he couldn’t contain it, “You’re so cute!”

“It’s beautiful in here,” Xac nodded, and because he knew that compliments were polite he added, hurriedly, “like you. It looks like you. Or you look like it.”

“I’m so glad you like it,” Agalon said and seemed to mean it, “I don’t want you to get overwhelmed; I know how easy that kind of thing happens. Don’t worry, Honey Bunny, you’ll stay right here where you’ll be safe and looked after. Nothing can get at you. Nothing can hurt you.”

“What could get at me?” Xac asked, more confused than frightened.

“Nothing,” Agalon said pleasantly, and ran a hand through Xac’s hair, “Are you hungry?” Without waiting for a response he slid his hand to the small of Xac’s back and began to lead him out of the room, talking all the while. “I’ve had dinner brought into the sitting room for us. Everything I read said that rabbits need to be on a special diet, so I’ve had ‘um make up a fresh garden salad for you. It might be a little bit more difficult to find things for you come winter, but as of now, I reckon I’ve got everything all worked out. You’re gonna be so happy here, Honey Bunny.”

“Thank you,” Xac said, and he meant it. He had been worried that he would get sick, after the way Mrs OfAgalon acted, but even she wasn’t above Agalon. This thought reminded him of the ranking system he lived under, the one that Alice had reminded him of and been very clear on, the one which was important, so he added, as quickly as he could, “Master.”

He had to be a good boy, like his mother had said. He had to be quiet, courteous, and polite. He had to prove that he could be trusted. He had to prove that he wasn’t a monster.

He was so happy to get out of that room.

Agalon led them to the small table Xac had seen earlier, and true to his word it was laid out with food and drink. There were two distinctly different meals laid out, but both seemed to be more than one person could reasonably be expected to eat. Xac’s salad looked like a serving dish, the kind an entire family was supposed to pull from and split between them, and Agalon’s plate held the same amount of food, but with more variety. He had some sort of meat, likely from that pig Xac had seen roasting in the kitchen, a potato that had been cut open and buttered, and a smaller, though still excessive portion of the salad Xac was expected to eat.

Agalon pulled the chair out for him, and Xac stared at it for a second before he sat down. That seemed backwards. He was probably supposed to do that. He hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble for it. He wished he had had more time with his mother, had had time to learn all the rules of the house. She had gone over them with Alice, in front of him, but he had never thought he would be working here, and hadn’t paid attention like he should have. The stakes were too high for him to be stupid. He had to move carefully, had to play his cards right. Agalon had said that he wouldn’t hurt him, but Xac knew a test when he saw one.

Agalon knew he was a shifter. That’s why he had isolated him. Xac had to prove that he wasn’t a monster. He couldn’t be as good as the other people- he had to be better. He had to overcome a handicap.

“Thank you, Master,” he said politely, and watched Agalon move across the table and take the other seat.

“It’s sure been a pleasant day,” Agalon said happily as he picked up a bottle from the table, twisted a metal contraption around the top, and pried it open with a POP so loud in the stillness it made Xac jump. “I try to be thankful when everything goes right like this. It ain’t exactly a common occurrence for me.”

“I’m sorry good days are rare for you,” Xac said, choosing his words carefully, “That ain’t what I thought. Seems like things oughta go pretty good.”

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it,” Agalon told him, “Ain’t a thing you could do about it.”

He poured a thick, sticky, red liquid into Xac’s glass, then his own, before he went about cutting up his meat.

“I reckon it’s been a pretty good day for you too,” he said with a smile, and Xac picked up his fork.

He nodded, and made an attempt to eat as daintily as possible. He took a small bite and chewed for much longer than he normally did, trying his best not to be noticeable. Table manners had never been given much emphasis in his house or during lunch at work. The emphasis was more on speed than politeness, and it was very likely that he would do something wrong. If he had known, for sure, exactly what it was he was meant to be doing, or if he was being judged by someone with less power over him, he likely could have performed better, but as it was he had to guard his every movement.

It was going to take him forever to get through the salad like this, and his stomach was already knotting up. The flesh between his shoulder blades was starting to hurt, and he remembered that Abe had told Agalon that he had a connection to Xaxac. If he messed this up, would it hurt his family?

“Once you’ve got used to it around here,” Agalon said, and Xac wondered if he would like him better if he acted more judgemental while he judged, if he acted more like Mrs OfAgalon and made his intentions known, rather than acting so natural and carefree. “I think I’ll have some more clothes made for you. Is this as big as you’re going to get? Do you know? How old are you; what do you know?”

“I… I reckon I’ll probably get a little bit bigger?” Xac said, though he wasn’t sure himself, “I’ve been here a good while. I don’t rightly know how old I am. I know some folks do. Some folks know when they was born so they can count it.”

“I tell myself,” Agalon said and took a drink of whatever he had poured them, “That if you’re gonna keep growing there ain’t no use in having a bunch of stuff made for you, because you’re just gonna outgrow it. But I don’t know if I can reign myself in.” He laughed as if this was some sort of joke, so Xac laughed along with him, trying to match his enthusiasm.

Xac picked up the glass and wondered what it was. He had never seen that liquid before. He normally drank water, though he had heard of other things like whiskey or beer, this was neither of them. He darted his eyes back to Agalon, who still looked as comfortable and content as one could be expected to look in their own home, but his attention was completely focused on Xaxac.

Xac took a sip, testing the liquid, and came to the immediate conclusion that he didn’t much care for it. He had tasted grapes before, and whatever this concoction was, it tasted like grapes that had been left too long to rot. His dislike must have showed on his face, because Agalon laughed at him and spoke.

“I guess it’s an acquired taste,” he said, “drink you some more and you’ll start to like it.”

Xac nodded and tried his best to take in a full mouthful the second time. It was a taste it apparently took more than two drinks to acquire, but when he sat down his glass Agalon picked up the bottle and refilled it, which Xac thought was strange because he hadn’t come close to emptying it.

“Master Agalon,” Xac said, because he felt as if he had to say something, “I sure appreciate the… all the nice food and bringin me in here and whatnot. It’s… mighty kind.”

“You’re so cute,” Agalon said again, as if it was some sort of response, and the repetition of it was starting to make it believable. Xac imagined that Agalon liked cute things, thought that rabbits were cute, and therefore Xac was cute by association. That was good. Let him think that. Maybe if he thought he was cute, he wouldn’t think he was dangerous.

Xaxac tried to think of things he had thought were cute, and came away mostly with baby animals. He tried to figure out which traits they had that made him think they were cute, so that he could emulate them, could project cuteness. What he really needed to do, he decided, was to make himself look young, weak, perhaps even frail, and frightened. He needed to think of what danger meant, and do the exact opposite.

So he put his head down, smiled shyly, and picked up another tiny bite with his fork. When he spoke, he did so as quietly as he thought would still be audible.

“Thank you, master,” he said.

“My name is Kailu,” Agalon said, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

“It is?” Xac asked, “I thought your name was Agalon?”

“It’s Kailu Agalon,” Agalon said cheerfully. “My friends call me Kai.”

“My friends call me Xac,” Xaxac said.

“That’s so cute,” Agalon said, and giggled. He seemed to think everything Xaxac said was amusing in some way. After a beat he said, “I named you, you know.” He seemed as if he expected some response to this, but didn’t seem particularly disappointed when he received none, “It’s something I saw on a rug once, that I got from the fire continent. I don’t know what it means, but it sounded beautiful and exotic.”

Xac didn’t know how to process that information. He was a little insulted, truth be told, but he couldn’t possibly say that.

Agalon apparently mistook his silence for contentment and went on, happily, “Xa-xac. You don’t often see names with more than one ‘xa’. I thought it was unique.”

“What’s a Xa?” Xac asked and took another drink.

“Oh, I reckon it’s… you wouldn’t understand, Honey Bunny,” Agalon said, but he continued anyway, “Common is written with a syllabary. Each syllable has a symbol associated with it, it’s a kind of… one thing that you gotta hold in your head for something else.”

Xac didn’t understand him. He didn’t know what a syllable was, and the explanation wasn’t doing him much good. He was, however, beginning to understand what Agalon meant when he said that he would like the liquid more if he kept drinking it. When he sat the glass down, Agalon refilled it again, though it was, once again, not even half empty. Xac thought that he should probably be doing that, just like he should have probably held the chair out.

It was getting hotter in the room, even though the sun had gone down and it should have been cooling off a bit. He hated trying to sleep on hot nights, when he would sweat through his clothes and the bedding. He took another small bite and reminded himself to chew slowly, because he had caught himself moving fast, and he needed to be polite.

“What is this?” Xac asked as he picked up the glass.

“I’m not real sure,” Agalon shrugged, “Some kind of local wine. Are you starting to like it?”

“I think so,” Xac said, and when Agalon laughed at him this time, he understood why. He felt very funny and charismatic.

It was getting more difficult to remind himself to slow down, to think things through, and to be as polite as he should be. He thought he was perhaps getting sleepy, even though he hadn’t really done anything that would have caused him to grow tired. But the world around him was beginning to grow fuzzy around the edges, and it was getting more difficult, little by little, to keep his head on straight and his body upright. But he had to focus. He had to impress Agalon. And he had to get through his salad.

“I like a lot of stuff,” Xac said, because he was trying to project an air of positivity, but in his tired state it was becoming more difficult to think of things to talk about. “I like this house. Everything is so pretty. I like you, too. I ain’t never seen no elf before. I like them pictures of roses hung up in the bedroom.”

“My late wife painted those,” Agalon said. The thought seemed to make him happy, so Xac smiled with him. “She was always painting. I still miss her, sometimes. That was my first wife, there was a whole… we lost a lot of folks when the sickness come through here.”

“You had more than one wife?” Xac asked. He wanted to seem interested in the conversation, and he hadn’t known such a thing was possible, though it made perfect sense. He took another drink, watched Agalon refill the glass, and wondered if there was something in it that was making him sleepy. He knew there were medicines to make a person sleep; Hattie May had given him one when he had become ill as a child. Did Agalon want him to sleep?

“Yeah, more than one,” Agalon, for the first time, scowled, “Chose great the first time, made a few mistakes… last one was a bad mistake. She’s dead now, too, I reckon. Tried to get into my boy’s head…”

Xac didn’t understand the thing Agalon had just said. It was getting more difficult for him to understand anything. He wondered, quite suddenly and with great alarm, if he was being poisoned, and jerked back before he could stop himself, moving so quickly and with so much force that he almost knocked himself out of his chair.

“Whow,” Agalon said, stood, darted around the table, and pulled Xac upright.

Xaxac couldn’t think anymore. Whatever had made the world blur, made his muscles loosen, made his head cloud, was making it too difficult to keep up the ‘cute little bunny’ facade. He was crying and he knew it, but he had never been more afraid. He was alone, trapped, with a man who could end his life on a whim, and was currently testing him to decide whether or not he should, and Xac didn’t have the resources to handle the situation. He had forgotten civility, but he knew he absolutely should not be crying. He knew he needed to stop. He knew he needed to straighten up, but he couldn’t remember how to do those things.

“What’s wrong, Honey Bunny?” Agalon asked, and gently caressed his face, “What happened? Why are ya cryin?”

“Please don’t kill me!” Xac begged, because he could not remember how he was supposed to speak. He could not pull himself away from the panic. “I’m sorry! I ain’t never done… I don’t do it on purpose! It ain’t me! It ain’t my fault! It’s the moons! The moons done it! I can’t never even remember… I don’t know what I do! I don’t know what’s wrong with me! It’s a curse! I can’t help I’m cursed! Please don’t kill me! And… and if you’re gonna kill me, please don’t hurt um!”

Agalon seemed insulted when he said, “I’m not going to kill you, Honey Bunny. I’m not going to hurt you. I love you.”

He… loved him? That didn’t make sense.

At all.

He was unable to process what Agalon had just said in any meaningful way. That was impossible. That wasn’t a thing that could happen-

He was an indoor pet.

He had known people to have pets, not just children with small animals they found, like turtles or frogs, but grown adults with the horses or dogs. He had heard more than one person say they ‘sure loved that old thing’ or ‘wouldn’t take nothin for that dog’ or ‘didn’t know what they’d do without that old cat’. He had heard people who worked with the livestock say to other children, ‘don’t get attached to them doodles, they ain’t pets they’re for eatin.’

People got attached to their pets. People would put the turtles that they found into little boxes and hide them from their parents, because they loved them. They would lock them away, so they wouldn’t get out, so they wouldn’t wander off and get eaten by a predator.

Agalon thought he was an animal.

Xaxac stopped shaking and stared up at him.

Agalon did not think he was cute in the way that people would sometimes think other people were cute. He thought he was cute in the way that people thought puppies were cute. He bought him, named him, brought him into his house, fed him, and told him over and over again that he was cute, safe, and loved.

Some people kept rabbits as pets, in hutches. Xac had not known that before today, but it was finally sinking in.

“I’m sorry, master,” he said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m scared.”

“I shouldn’t’ve brought you out here,” Agalon said, “And I sure as hell never shoulda left you out in the fields. I didn’t believe you were a shifter. Thought never entered my mind. But there was some… rumors running through the staff, and I thought,” he shrugged, “I thought, ‘Hell, maybe that merchant didn’t lie to me’.”

“You… want a shifter?” Xac asked, trying his best to control himself, “A… a lot of folks is scared of me.”

“Most folks ain’t never seen a shifter,” Agalon said. “You’re a real live legend, Honey Bunny. Hell, you look like a bunny with them big eyes and buck teeth, cute little nose.” He laid his pointer finger on Xac’s nose, then quickly pulled it away, and it was, for reasons he could not fathom, the funniest thing Xac had ever seen, so he began to laugh.

“Honey Bunny, look at me,” Agalon held his face in both hands, and Xac stared up at him, “I ain’t gonna kill you. I got somethin rare here, like a gemstone. I swear, hand on a holy text, Thesis is my witness, you’re safe here.”

“Thank you, master,” Xac dried his eyes on his sleeve, then thought better of it. His clothes were so nice and he didn’t need to ruin them. “Sorry I… cried and… tore my ass and… everything.”

“You’re drunk,” Agalon giggled, “Drunk folks don’t have to make sense.”

Oh! He was drunk! So the wine was like whiskey. That explained everything. Grown men who drank whiskey would sit by bonfires and ball their eyes out over nonsense. That made perfect sense. Agalon was right, drunk people did seem perfectly willing to make fools of themselves. Now that he knew what the feeling was, knew how freeing it was, that it gave him permission to be as foolish as he wanted, and Agalon wasn’t going to hurt him because of it- he decided he quite liked it.

He picked up the glass and downed it, drinking greedily, as if it were water. He didn’t mind the taste anymore. He couldn’t really taste it. He couldn’t taste anything.

“I’m going to go get us another bottle, Honey Bunny,” Agalon giggled, stood, and spread his arms out toward Xac, “Look at me. Don’t move. Don’t get up. Sit down in that chair right there and don’t move. You ain’t fit for walkin without bein watched.”

“Alrighty,” Xac giggled and wondered why he had ever been frightened. Agalon was nice! This room was nice! This house was nice! And there were far, far worse things to be than a cute little bunny in a very pretty cage. He suspected, though he could not confirm it, that if he were to play his cards right he may never have to work a day in his life again.

Everything was wonderful!

He had no idea where Agalon went, but he was nowhere in the room, and Xac was starting to miss him. But he was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to get out of his chair. Instead, he pushed his salad away and leaned forward on his elbows, giggling at his own good fortune.

If Agalon really did love him like a person loved their dog, he could probably ask him for things and get them. People got things for dogs all the time, but dogs couldn’t talk to ask for things, and Xac suspected that if they could, they would, and people would oblige. And Agalon was rich! He had hit the jackpot!

He was laughing about this when Agalon gently lifted him by the shoulder and said, “Let’s go sit on the sofa, alright?”

“Okay!” Xac agreed readily, “I ain’t never had furniture this nice! At home, daddy carved all our furniture out of wood!”

“That feller in the fields?” Agalon asked as he helped Xac to his feet and let him lean heavily on him, “That ain’t your daddy, Honey Bunny. I bought you. I don’t know who your daddy is, but he ain’t here.”

“I like him,” Xac said, because he had completely forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to argue, “He’s my daddy. He raised me up.”

“Alrighty then,” Agalon laughed and watched Xac fall onto the sofa, “Whatever you say, Honey Bunny.”

“I like being drunk,” Xac said, because he did.

“It looks cute on you,” Agalon agreed, “Here, sit up and have some more.”

“I did start likin it!” Xac said with wide eyes. He was finding great difficulty thinking things without saying them, though somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered that that was, for some reason he could not currently fathom, bad. “Just like you said! You’re really smart, Agalon!”

“My name is Kailu,” Agalon said. He had set their glasses and the new bottle on the coffee table, and opened the bottle while Xac was talking, but now he took a seat beside him with one leg crossed over the knee and one arm spread over the back of the sofa.

“I’m gonna call you Aggie,” Xac proclaimed, because he wasn’t particularly sure he could remember names. He felt very stupid, but also as if he shouldn’t be particularly concerned with his own stupidity. He stood on his knees and looked over the back of the couch at the room, then back up at Agalon, trying to remember what he was doing here.

Xac could not remember why he had thought he was tired, because that certainly wasn’t the case anymore. Whatever was making that constant tick tick ticking sound was annoying him. He felt as if he heard everything more strongly than he usually did, and it was so loud he didn’t know how Agalon stood it.

“Oh my god, what is that noise!?” Xac lamented, and Agalon giggled at him.

“I don’t know, darlin,” Agalon laughed, “What’s it sound like?”

“You can’t hear that?” Xac asked, “Like tick tick tick tick tick over and over and over and over until it just gets into your brain?” He grabbed at his hair to emphasize his point. He could not understand why Agalon couldn’t hear it.

“Oh,” Agalon pointed to a contraption on the mantel place in front of them, “That’s the clock, Honey Bunny. You don’t like it? That’s unfortunate, because I’m getting another one for the bedroom.”

“I don’t like it,” Xac said. He felt very much like a toddler, and he was beginning to get on his own nerves.

“Don’t think about it then, Honey Bunny,” Agalon told him, “Come here, sit down before you fall. Have another drink.”

“Ok!” Xac said excitedly. “I really like wine!”

“I’m glad you like it,” Agalon giggled, “Don’t spill it, I ain’t got no more clothes for you yet.”

“I… I am gonna spill it,” Xac said. He hadn’t actually meant to say that. He had meant to portray himself as more competent than he actually was, but he had lost all ability to do so. He could no longer think very clearly. Everything was a pleasant blur.

“Well then, let’s take your shirt off. It’s white and the wine is red.” Agalon suggested with great practicality.

“You’re so smart!” Xac said, “I like you. Set this down for me.”

Agalon took the glass from him with a smile and set it on the coffee table, then leaned back to watch Xaxac struggle because he had, apparently, forgotten how buttons worked, as a concept.

“I know how shirts… do,” Xac said, because he had thought it, and that was a good enough reason to say anything now, “I can’t… it won’t work!”

His mood had shifted quickly, and he was growing frustrated.

“Here, darlin,” Agalon reached out and unbuttoned the first few buttons on Xac’s neckline, then pulled the shirt over his head. “Better?”

“Thank you!” Xac said, leaned forward, nearly fell, but caught himself on the coffee table. It seemed that every time he tried to move he overshot the motion he was trying to make, and he didn’t understand why, but it was terribly funny. He did manage to get the glass, with Agalon’s help, and get himself back upright, but he had to lean heavily on him to do so, and stayed there when he got back on the sofa.

“I love this wine!” Xac said, “I love this place! I love the food, and the pretty furniture, and the comfy clothes. I wish everybody was here.”

Agalon reached down to scratch his scalp, running his fingers through his hair.

“That feels so good,” Xac leaned into the touch and took another drink. “Being drunk is great! Why don’t everybody do this all the time?”

“Because most people have things to do, darlin,” Agalon explained, “You can’t get nothin done when you’re drunk.”

“Nobody needs to do anything,” Xac argued, “Everybody should just feel good all the time.”

“You’re cute,” Agalon told him.

“I know!” Xac said excitedly, “I hope I stay cute forever! I’ve heard that some people are real cute when they’re kids, but then they grow up to be ugly and that’s so sad…”

“I think you’re about near grown,” Agalon told him, “You look like a grown human.”

“Nuh-uh,” Xac shook his head, “If I was grown I’d have a beard. Alley said MrsOfAgalon don’t let men folk have beards.”

“I don’t like beards,” Agalon said, “It’s unsanitary. And… I know y’all are animals but with one of them you look like an animal, you know?”

“I am an animal,” Xac said happily, “I’m a bunny!”

That information reminded him of a song, so he began to sing.

“Rabbit whatcha sittin in the corner for?

It ain’t gonna rain no more no more

Rained yesterday and the day before

It ain’t gonna rain no more.”

“You have a beautiful voice,” Agalon said, “and soft hair.”

“My mama called it angora,” Xac said, “says it’s real expensive. Whenever I shift she gathers it up and spins it. She knits with it. I like to knit.”

“You shouldn’t be doin that, darlin, it’s too dangerous,” Agalon said, “not for a while, anyway. Maybe later, we’ll see. Long, sharp needles… you could hurt yourself.” He paused and said, as if in thought, “That’s a real good idea… angora is rare…”

“I guess you could hurt yourself with anything,” Xac said as he finished off his glass, “but that’s sad. Let’s talk about something happy!”

Agalon took his empty glass and set it on the table, then stared down at him with a smile,so Xac smiled back.

“Come here,” Agalon said, and slid Xac into his lap.

“Are you gonna tell me a story?” Xac asked.

“No, I’m gonna carry you to bed, I don’t trust you to walk without hurting yourself.” He explained.

“Yes!” Xac agreed and wrapped his arms around his neck, “Carry me!” He snuggled into Agalon’s chest as he stood and asked, “Hey Aggie?”

“Thesis’s eyes, that’s so cute,” Agalon laughed. “What?”

“How long do I gotta stay locked up?” Xac asked.

“Until I can trust you, Honey Bunny,” Agalon explained, “All them books I read about pet care said that you need a safe, comfortable environment to become acclimated to.”

“Why you readin books, though?” Xac asked as Agalon laid him on the bed, “You know how to take care of people pets.”

“What gave you that idea, darlin?” Agalon asked as he unlaced Xac’s boots and peeled them off.

“Cause you already had a people pet,” Xac said.

“I did?” Agalon asked as if the idea greatly interested him, “What would make you say somethin like that?”

“Cause they was locked in here too,” Xac said, “Somebody else was locked in here.”

“Why would you think somebody else was ever in here?” Agalon asked in a tone that Xac, had he been in a better state of mind, would have identified as dangerous.

“Cause they knew how to count,” Xac said, “They counted in the wardrobe.”

“They counted in the wardrobe...” Agalon mumbled. He patted Xac on the thigh and stood, “You stay right there, Honey Bunny.”

“I ain’t never movin,” Xac said, but quickly corrected himself, because he decided he didn’t want to sleep in his pants. The waistband was far too restrictive, too annoying, even in a pair so comfortable. He was so preoccupied with this task, which he could perform no better than he had been able to take off his shirt, that he did not see Agalon open the empty wardrobe. Xac did not see how closely he examined it, did not see him reach a hand inside and run it along every wall, did not see his reaction when it hit something that should not be there.

All he knew was that in an instant Agalon was back, and was helping him out of his pants.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Xac told him as he kicked his pants to the floor, “I ain’t used to sleepin alone. I was scared I’d be alone.”

“Don’t be scared, darlin,” Agalon said, then he leaned in, brushed Xac’s hair from his forehead, and kissed him there. “I’m gonna get changed for bed.”

“It’s so soft here,” Xac said, snuggling down into his pillow.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, but eventually, he did feel the bed dip beside him, then heard Agalon speak.

“Come on, Honey Bunny,” he said, “Let me get the quilt over us.”

“Ok,” Xac agreed, and let Agalon guide him. He felt as if he was supposed to do something, something important, but he had forgotten entirely. When Agalon pulled the blanket over them, Xac turned to him and snuggled his little face into his chest. He fell asleep quickly, with no thoughts cluttering up his head.