Helen's House.

[Jason]

With death metal spewing out the windows of the powder blue Prius, it rolls then jerks to a stop in front of a beautiful and pricey home.

Shortly after stopping, a gawky pimple faced teen pulls himself and his large red bag filled with four large pizzas out of the car. Letting a lit cigarette fall from his lips, he rubs it out with his toe. Then saunters up to door.

He rings the bell, and hopes for a big tip.

[Moira ap Eiluned]

A small spare man in traditional butler's garb, his thinning grey hair neatly trimmed, checks the security camera at the door, and frowns. Must be a new boy, he thinks, shaking his head. The addresses here aren't well posted, and the new ones are forever getting things wrong. Taking a deep, patient breath, he opens the door. "I'm sorry, sir, but I believe you must have the wrong residence. May I help you find the correct house?"

[Jason]

"Ah mannnn, really? Damn-it, third time this week!" The young man takes a quick look at the ticket, and curses someone named Bud under his breath. "Thanks Pops, you have a good one."

Lighting up a new cigarette he heads out.

Damn, no tip. How am I gunna afford that 1/8th tonight?

[Moira ap Eiluned]

The butler watches the teen walk back to his car. Unconsciously he rubs the center of his chest, where a strange twinge like the ache of a bruise flares momentarily. He closes the door, shaking his head. Young people today, no attention to detail at all...