Jonathan walked out of the door of his bedroom and jolted to a halt. Precisely three steps down the hall, Cholera was standing, silently watching his doorway wearing—was that a maid's outfit? Black dress, white apron, obvious but not too ostentatious frills…it definitely looked like a stereotypical maid uniform, but Jonathan vaguely remembered reading once that black and white maid uniforms weren't really a thing before the early 1900s. What was Cholera doing wearing one?

"Uh, thanks for not lurking in my doorway, Cholera. I guess. What are you wearing?"

"This is the official uniform of those who wage battle with cleaning products," said the demon with a hint of pride in her voice.

So, definitely a maid's uniform. "Riiiight…who on earth told you about that?"

"I was talking to Chris, and he mentioned it. With his help visualizing, I was able to conjure it for myself."

Chris was the culprit? The kid who barely said one word per day in Jonathan's hearing? Maids weren't fetishized in this culture were they? Jonathan ran a quick glance over the outfit, but it really was a highly conservative maid's uniform. No absurdly short skirts or swooping necklines in sight. This was getting weirder by the second. "…And you're okay with that?"

"Indeed. Is not wearing the proper garb to strike terror in the hearts of one's victims a source of minor pleasure?"

"Uh, I'll take your word for that. Great. Well. You look good, I suppose? Um." Jonathan moved away from his doorway, and Cholera immediately swept past him with a rustling of skirts and the mild, lingering scent of anti-bacterial wipes. "Right, I'll just…go find Chris. Have fun cleaning."

Cholera ignored him, and as he walked away he heard her muttering. "Oh, how adorable, you thought you had escaped my attentions? That a single night of breeding on that filthy human's skin would save you from me. Think again."

He walked faster. "Filthy human," indeed. As he walked, Jonathan gave his armpit a discrete sniff.

Okay, maybe he could use a bath. But still, there was no need to be hurtful.

As Jonathan conjured breakfast, he still found it strange that he was no longer seeing any colored smoke when he enlivened his magic. Evidently, maintaining Cholera's contract was sufficient to basically wipe him out of his standard, human magical power, which was unfortunate. He'd have to ask Mr. Geiller if there were any way for him to build up his reserves, because being able to detect other people by their desires had been extremely handy in the past. It was also going to make navigating in secrecy if and when the Petty Baron sent more people his way a lot more dangerous.

Jonathan finished serving bowls of cereal to the kids—most of them refused point blank to eat it with milk, which Jonathan still thought was weird—and sat down with his own bowl, the flakes and oat clusters properly submerged in milk. At least the introduction of processed sugar in breakfast cereals from his home reality had been a massive hit. Breakfast was one of the most peaceful meals of the day, as a result.

Unfortunately for Jonathan, that peace left him with time to think. As much as he hated the thought, he was going to have to do something pre-emptive about the Petty Baron. Running away into the woods had worked better than he expected, but they couldn't afford to have their home continually trashed and if the Baron's thugs had come prepared with food they could have been stuck outside for who knows how long. With the weather getting progressively colder as the days passed, that wasn't a great prospect.

But what to do? Ebola offered him a fallback, but trying to unleash him in any sort of controlled way was impossible. It would be like dropping a bomb on the town and just hoping that it hit the people he needed it to—not to mention the collateral damage he was all but certain would occur. And if Ebola escaped and Jonathan was just stuck inside until the Church or someone caught up with him and banished or killed him…yeah, that felt like a last resort, and even then he should probably think twice.

He'd made Cholera swear not to harm humans, so he didn't think he could leverage her. Particularly since he was reasonably certain this Petty Baron wasn't going to respond very well to anything short of some demonstration that Jonathan and the kids were best left alone.

He didn't have any political clout. Maybe Mr. Geiller might have some acquaintances back in Eldridge, but the old coot had never mentioned them and given how annoying the codger was, Jonathan kind of doubted there'd be anyone alive who would want to do him a favor.

Some of the kids would doubtless want to help, but they were kids. And under his protection, at that. Plus, if they ended up in danger, it could lead to Ebola getting out again.

He could try and locate someone who was enemies with the Petty Baron, assuming he could figure out who that might be, but what could he possibly offer them to entice them into helping out? More than likely, he'd just end up trading the devil he knew for a devil he didn't and could even be worse off if they discovered his ability to use the magic of the Infernal Abyss.

Hrm. It was a quandary, and a big part of the problem was that he just didn't really know anything about this Petty Baron character, since all he had to go on was Ethan's descriptions of the guy.

Well, perhaps he'd have to hope for the best and plan for the worst. They'd run from the last group the Petty Baron had sent, so he was betting they wouldn't expect him to visit town. He just needed some way to put the man off balance enough that he might talk to him, and then a contingency plan if things went south. That…was possibly doable.

Oh, the kids were done with breakfast. "Hey Chris, can I talk to you for a second?"

Chris nodded and began gathering up dishes when Jonathan did the same. They carried them to the kitchen and stacked them on the island, where Cholera would deal with them later. She never seemed interested in cleaning them right after the meal; Jonathan privately suspected it was because she wanted to leave enough time for bacteria to start to proliferate on the scraps of food left behind.

He turned to the boy, who had remained silent the whole time, as was standard. "So I hear you're responsible for Cholera's maid outfit?"

Jonathan hadn't been sure what reaction he was expecting, but it definitely hadn't been a smile and a laugh. He hadn't thought Chris could smile.

"Oh, uh," said the boy. "Yeah. I was talking to her, and it just…kind of came up."

"Where on earth did you even get the idea?" said Jonathan. "I didn't exactly spend a lot of time in town, but I don't think I ever saw anyone there with a uniform like that. I thought that was something that was specific to my world, honestly."

"Mm." Chris looked uncomfortable for some reason. "Maids in the high noble houses wear those uniforms for formal occasions. You wouldn't see them in the Eldridge market."

Jonathan eyed the boy, but he'd clammed up again. "Well, alright." Jonathan let his posture relax, and gave a rueful smile. "It was pretty funny. Now I just have to convince her not to loiter outside of my bedroom door in the morning. I just about had a heart attack."

Chris laughed again, and Jonathan waved him off to play.

There was a story there, he could sense it. But something in Chris' eyes made him not want to ask.

Jonathan grumbled to himself, before heading off to start planning a trip to Eldridge in earnest. Even a close-lipped little bugger like Chris had somehow managed to get under his skin.

He was pretty nervous about the nascent idea that was growing in his mind, but he had a feeling he was going to take the risk. These kids deserved better.

He wanted all of them to be smiling and laughing. He was honestly upset with himself that he'd been surprised at an expression of mirth from Chris. On an impulse, he enlivened his magic and connected to Ebola, letting the murderous feelings wash through him before he shut it down. Yeah. He could do this.

He turned around and almost fell over backward trying to scramble away. "Shit! What are you doing?!"

Cholera cocked her head from the half pace away where she'd been standing silently behind him. "Curious," was all she said.

Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to settle his heartbeat down. "Did you need something from me, Cholera?"

The demon shook her head. "No. You have not washed any of the dishes, have you?"

Jonathan raised his hands in surrender. "No, your precious dishes are all over there, still nicely soiled."

"Very good." She walked past him, but then hesitated, which caught Jonathan's eye because it was very uncharacteristic of her. Normally she moved with absolute purpose at all times. "I do not…coexist comfortably with other demons, Jonathan." She turned her head, the light glinting off the facets of her eye. "They always make a mess."

"…Right."

"And I despise messes. Because I am a maid."

"…Okay?"

Cholera nodded. "I am glad we understand one another." She swept onward with her typical assurance and exited through the back door.

Jonathan stood staring at the door for several moments.

He wasn't sure if Cholera was giving him some sort of warning, or if she had been trying to make a joke.

What a weird morning.