The confidence of the child was quite amusing, but he’d humor her regardless. She was sweet, kind, and had that same natural caring instinct that he saw in her mother. Taische was bold, “commanding” to get Storm to ease off the scotch as a medicine rather than a healing component. Instinctively he glared at the adorable girl, but knew there would be no conflict here. She meant well enough.

“This is medicinal, don’t worry sweetheart…” he smiled and let the scotch slide down smoothly. By his third drink it was wonderful stuff, and allowed him to smoothly enjoy a very mild buzz for the first time in as long as he could remember.

Taische continued to mix about the food, cooking the little bundles delivered from the beautiful fire bird. She then asked him quite the question.

“Magic isn’t good or bad, honey. Magic is simply magic; it’s the user that makes it work for good or not. As for what flavor of bad I am…”

Shit, sweetie, that’s deeper than you think. Just because you barbeque a good field mouse doesn’t make you my head doctor. Damn…

“There are a few things that get people known as ‘bad’. Sometimes it’s disagreeing with what most folks think. Other times its just wanting more for yourself. Then there are the people with wires crossed. People that just want to see bad things happen.”

Her eyes grew a bit wider, inquisitive and a little nervous at the implications of that third variety of evil. He had met plenty that lusted for blood, and did more than lightly cross the line into areas where good people dare not venture. The fire’s light kissed his face red, and he wondered how monstrous he must look. A grin would break the tension.

“As for me, sugar… well I guess I’m a little of the first two sorts of bad. I don’t always follow every rule too closely…” …a preposterous understatement, he considered.

“…And I do what I have to do to survive and live well, and take care of the people important to me.”

It wasn’t technically false, he rationalized. Storm wasn’t a pure source of evil, although there were plenty of widows and broken families that may disagree. Still, a bit of navel gazing was something he avoided like the plague; introspection opened questions which he wasn’t very comfortable answering.

What type of man would he have been, had he been accountable to others? If there was a little one that relied on him? If there was a single woman like Karuka, one worthy of his time, might he have become a better man?

…and if the queen had balls, she’d be king.

He thought plenty but said little. They didn’t have enough scotch for a conversation, and the aged wizard knew he’d get (unfairly) annoyed by the perspective of a child.

Storm’s eyes gazed off into the mire, hoping for Karuka’s shapely silhouette to reappear. He had traveled long today, and was feeling much better. If he could rest, he’d be on top of his game with the rising sun.

“Where’s your ma, kiddo? I want to crash here but owe it to her to stay up. She’s strong now, but there’s nothing pleasant out there at this hour. With a good night’s sleep I’ll be strong again. I need to hit Talmaidh, and hope we can get there within a few days.”

We.

Oh shut the f*ck up.