“Rosco! Wake up,” A familiar voice beckons.

Rosco groans, rolling to his stomach to hide from the light.

“Ah, none of that!” Sam injects, ripping Rosco’s blanket from his sleeping body.

Rosco growls at the younger boy, curling in on himself. Yelping loudly when Sam kicks him in the ribs.

“Come on. Get up, you’re monopolizing the floor.” Sam tells him while wadding up Rosco’s blanket and throwing it at his face.

Rosco finally gives into the abuse, sitting up and rubbing his bleary eyes to find everyone else had long since rolled up their beds.

“Thank you, Sam,” Lolly calls from her place at the table feeding the baby, “Now git, before you’re late.”

“Yes Lolly!” Sam answers, kicking Rosco once more for good measure, wicked grin on his face. Rosco lunges after him, but Sam escapes quickly out the door before he can be caught.

“Ugh stupid brat!” Rosco seethes after him.

“At least that ‘brat’ has a job,” Lolly muses a little too loudly for the thought to have been intended for herself.

Rosco winces as he shifts and gathers up his bedding, “I’ll go looking again today,” He promises while stowing away his blankets. The old woman moves to stand, and Rosco rushes to her side expecting her to have trouble, but she is on her feet before he can cross the small room, wiping the baby’s face and leisurely leaning down to set the girl on the floor. When she straightens, the old woman comes face to face with Rosco’s expression of shock.

“Lolly, how is your cough this morning?” he asks slowly.

She blinks thinking it over, “Well I’ve hardly coughed at all,” She muses taking in a smooth deep breath. “I’m actually feeli’n real good this mornin’.” stretching her normally achy back.

With a laugh, Rosco wraps his beloved caregiver in a tight hug, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek, “He really healed you!”

“What are you talking about boy?” Whacking him off with a bright smile on her face. “We were talkin’ about your lack of work. Don’t go change’n the subject!”

“Never mind that!” holding the old woman’s shoulders, “I think I met one of the old gods yesterday!”

Lolly’s expression sours, giving Rosco a solid smack upside his head, “Don’t go sayin’ stuff like that child. You’ll invite all sort of trouble.”

“I’d hardly call myself trouble.”

Both Lolly and Rosco whip around to find Hayden nuzzling the baby’s nose with his own. The two humans freeze in place while the little girl giggles in contentment, reaching out to tug on the collar of the god’s shirt.

“Hayden.” The name rolling off Rosco’s tongue before he has the chance to think it.

Lolly rounds on him, “You know this man?” clearly confused.

“He does,” Hayden answers for him, tickling the girl’s side causing her to squeal with delight.

Lolly’s eyes lock on Rosco who can only nod in agreement because it’s true.

Rosco swallows thickly, “You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” he half pleads, inching forward, “If you’re mad at me for what I said don’t take it out on her.”

The color of the god’s eyes darkens a shade, “Is that truly what you think of me?” he bites out, striding forward to deposit the child in Lolly’s arms. His expression softens into a smile as he tucks one of the baby’s haphazard golden curls behind her ear.

“What have you done, Rosco?” Lolly hisses like Hayden can’t hear her, turning the child away from the stranger, pressing her close against her chest.

“He’s not in trouble.” Hayden assures, his soft smile twisting into a devious grin, “More like he’s gotten himself a job.”

“I have?” Rosco questions, both relived and confused.

“You are going to come with me to find my sister.”

“But- I-” the poor boy’s brain stalling, “Why?” he finally spits out.

“This boy is not goin’ anywhere with you Mister!” Lolly replies, wagging a stern finger at the stranger, moving to stand between them, “I don’t know who you are, or what either of you are talking ‘bout, but you need to git out of my house. Rosco won’t be doin’ any work for you. He’s a good boy and I won’t let him git mixed up in any shady business.”

“Really, Rosco,” Hayden sighs, “what have you been telling people about me?”

“This is that fellow you did the work for last night isn’t it?” Lolly asks sharply, shooting Rosco a glance.

“Uh- well, kinda?” the boy admits sheepishly, “But um, more importantly, he’s the god I mentioned, the old one.”

Her eyes widen, color draining from her age lined face as she slowly spins to face the god, “Is this true?”

Hayden smiles, offering a flourished bow, “You may call me Hayden.”

“Oh, dear heavens.” the old woman sits heavily at the table, bobbing the baby up and down in her lap and burying her face in her free hand. “Simple life Rosco,” she mutters through her fingers, “The best life for people like us is simple.” Fixing her watery eyes on his, “Isn’t that what I’ve tried to teach you children. Getting mixed up with gods is never simple.”

“To be fair, the gods you know are cheap imitations,” Hayden injects.

“There’s a graveyard out back, proves the humans who get mixed up with you don’t live simple,” Lolly’s tone more knowing than defiant.

Hayden shifts on his feet, roll of his eyes consenting to the validity of her statement. “Your caregiver does have a point. I won’t force you to come with me.”

Rosco looks between Lolly’s eyes and Hayden’s. It’s clear Lolly wants him to stay far away from this, to keep hunting for a job and try his hardest to keep it for more than a few months, to meet a nice girl and make a life with her. To live a normal, simple life like she’s always told him to.

“I’m sorry, Lolly,” He whispers unable to meet her eyes. Rosco was never going to be able to live out the life she wanted for him.

The old woman sighs deeply, setting the little girl on the ground to wrap Rosco in a tight hug. Taking his face in her wrinkled, work worn hands studying him close, as if to commit him to memory before twisting to face Hayden, “Take care of him, won’t you?” she asks, bowing her head like in prayer.

Hayden rests one of his hands in her hair like one would with a child, “You have my word.” He promises.

The tension in her shoulders softens, gathering up the little girl, and putting her composure back on like a cape, “When will you leave?” she asks.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Rosco looks to Hayden for the answer.

“I will return in the morning to collect you,” The god replies, vanishing right before their eyes.

Rosco spends the rest of his day preparing his meager belongings for travel and doubting all of his lie’s choices. This opportunity feels like a once in a lifetime chance, one he would be a fool not to take, but also one he was a complete moron for taking. As the day wears on, he’s still not sure if he’s an idiot or not but the choice to go becomes more and more solidified in his head.

As the other children trickle back from their various jobs and tasks, he gives them the news that he’s leaving. Yewin laughs and jokes that he’ll be sent back in less than a week. A few of the other older kids out right don’t believe him, Roso’s been here longer than anyone but Yewin, so he understands why even if it bothers him a bit they’d think he’d lie. A few of the younger ones claim they will miss him; they don’t seem overly invested in the statement, but Rosco has no reason to doubt they’d be genuine.

Lolly forces them all to sit tightly packed around the table to share the meal. They normally eat at alternating times, partly because the table is just not large enough to accommodate them all and party because they get home at staggered times. But she does this every time a child leaves her house to make their own way in the world. Every child complains about the tight seating arrangement, but no one ever actually means it too much. This one big dinner together is a symbol of hope, that they can all find a place for themselves.

“Why are you going to be a priest if you hate them, Rosco?” Sam asks around a full mouth.

Rosco’s face instinctively twist with disgust, “I’m not going to be a priest, stupid,” He shoots back, poking Sam harshly in the ribs.

The younger boy jolts away from him, answering the jab with a surprisingly harsh glare for a 12-year-old.

“Don’t call him stupid, stupid. He’s right you know,” Yewin says around the squealing baby, “People who are in direct service of the gods are priests.”

Rosco’s spoon clutters loudly into his bowl, “Lolly!” He whines with wide eyes, “Is that what I agreed to do? Am I a priest now?”

Lolly bites back a laugh, “You can’t be ‘specting me to know, ask that god what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

All the kids; even the other older ones who usually avoided join in least they been seen a s childish began chanting ‘Rosco’s a priest’ mocking smiles plastered on all their faces.

Rosco buries his head under his arms groaning into to the soft wood of the table, Gods was he going to miss them.