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Mike had debated purchasing a gun, but he knew next to nothing about them other than to point the long, skinny end at stuff you wanted to kill. Being honest with himself, he was never going to be truly ready. "Maybe eat these now too." She ripped the wrapper with her teeth and shoved the first one in her face, handing Mike the second.

His lack of education aside, Naia had warned him against such a purchase for the sole reason that she had no idea what other creatures may be lying in wait within the house's walls, and the last thing they needed was another Jenny-type situation with the addition of a firearm. Tink cradled her crossbow in both arms, fierce determination in her eyes that matched the dark, black lines she had painted beneath them using some shoe polish she had found. "Husband come, much look with Tink." Mike sighed, setting the hammer down on the table, then followed her into the living room, tucking his Pop-tart in his back pocket.

Whatever had ripped the tooth off had taken it completely.

Removing the gear, she put it back inside its outline, and wrote the word score underneath.

They were magical, able to see things that ordinary people couldn't, and Tink had waited so long only because the house had needed structural repairs to the front deck. "How do we get the closet to become the cave again? The goblin slammed the closet shut, turned her back to it, then opened it while facing away. She grabbed the closet door hard enough that her claws left marks in the wood. " Tink slammed the door, tears appearing in her eyes. " "We'll figure this out, I promise." Mike set his hammer down, kneeling by the goblin. "You know," Mike said, wondering if his idea was too stupid to even consider. "Unless someone wrote directions on that map of the labyrinth you have, I don't see us... " Tink's eyes had glassed over, her gaze on the wall behind Mike. Tink had retrieved the map from the Vault, but had never said much else about it. She had unrolled a piece of butcher paper across her desk, using it to trace pieces, label where they came from, and even tape them in place.

This morning, Tink had announced that she had waited long enough and was ready to move forward with Operation Stupid Cow Fuck (her name, not his). " Mike asked, his hand hovering over the small, white painted knob. Peeking around the corner, Mike saw that the closet was, once again, simply a closet. "Try open different," Tink said, raising her crossbow again. Wrapping her in his arms, he pulled her tight against her body, absorbing her sobs with his shirt. Goggles are Tink's most prized possession." Sniffling, she buried her face in the crook of Mike's arms. "We do know somebody who knows how to open that door." "We do? "Yeah, but I don't know how happy she will be to see us." Mike knew it was a stupid idea, but he couldn't bear to see her cry any longer. It was largely complete, but the worst gaps were in the depths of the Labyrinth, blank spots on the parchment that gave Mike anxiety. She set up the wire holder she had borrowed, a device with a magnifying glass meant for delicate soldering work.

" Tink shook her head, her braids dancing over her shoulders. "Strange," she muttered, examining the surface of the gear.

Stripping in place, she slid into her work outfit, wondering if Mike would order something tonight.

She made a mental note to drop by his place anyway and give him an update on the clock if she was on his side of town.

A couple of random bookends, a small black statue of a woman made of coral, and an extremely ugly lamp were the only items of interest. Bookshelves adorned the walls, punctuated by windows looking out into the front yard, windows Tink and Abella had replaced. Mike did the same, grateful to be looking for something simple.

The rest was just blankets, duvets, and other assorted cloths people draped over their furniture to protect them from the farts of their visitors. The shelves had several different shapes carved into them, many of them very complex.

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