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... . The air was filled with neon lights, loud music and the smell of alcohol. People were drinking and dancing with abandon, washing off the weight of a long work week and the bitter cold that waited outside. She was near the bar, waiting for a set of shots for her friends.

'Claire!'

She turned, beaming with excitement. Her comfortable hoodie was replaced by a ferocious black biker jacket, complete with a threatening amount of metal clasps and small spikes.

'Matt! Hey, budd ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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