Though Elliott’s paradigm had not so much shifted as taken a hard left turn, the relief of not having to worry about Puck anymore was immense. Now they just had a ridiculous sum of money to worry about, which was a somewhat more pleasant brand of worry. 

Aside from paying off their student loans and quitting their job, Elliott had no big plans for the money, and for the time being they continued to live in their studio apartment. Now they were free to go jogging during the day, and still meet up with Puck by night. The fact that Puck now appeared to be Elliott’s age made them far more comfortable with the friendship, which Puck easily picked up on. 

“You seem less guarded now,” he pointed out one evening. “Do you not quake in the presence of your god?”

Elliott laughed. “Uh, no. Actually, it somehow felt weirder hanging out with a teenager than it does having my own personal god.” 

Puck raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m yours alone?”

“Well do you have other believers? I thought I was the one who brought you into existence.”

“This time, yes, but it’s hardly my first time. I’ve existed in more iterations than I can keep track of, at this point. But you’re right, you’re my only believer, for now.”

“And who, exactly, do I believe in?” Elliott asked, abruptly turning serious. They felt they had a good sense of Puck’s character, but it occurred to them that they really didn’t know just who they’d invoked, and that kind of thing might be important.

“I’m the god of chaos. Whatever that means, and has meant to humans, I am that, be it a force of creation or destruction, or the primordial matter that came to be all of existence,” Puck explained with the same nonchalance one might use to explain one’s job to someone they’d met at a party.

“Really?” Elliott asked, taken aback, “That seems pretty important… and you were just hanging around waiting to be invoked?”

“I wasn’t waiting, I had no awareness of you until you summoned me,” Puck said in what approached a haughty tone, before adding with a note of embarrassment, “Anyway, the last several people to summon me have been insufferable edgelords, and I wasn’t about to make myself known to them.”

Elliott couldn’t remember when they’d felt more flattered. “You mean you chose me?” they asked, preening.

“In a sense we chose each other.”

“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me.”

“You are a vexing mortal.”

“Oh don’t go all high fantasy on me,” Elliott teased, “I knew you when you were a dog.” 

Puck grinned and gave their shoulder a playful shove. Elliott, who had been crouching under the usual tree, toppled over. Puck turned his face away, clamping a hand over his mouth as he tried and mostly failed to stifle a snicker. 

“No fair!” Elliott complained through their own laughter. “Picking on a mere mortal!”

What remained of Puck’s composure crumbled, and for a few minutes the two were gripped by laughter, each playing off of the other in a feedback loop of helpless mirth. This came to an abrupt halt when Puck, suddenly alert, sat up straight, his forehead creasing with apprehension. A moment later he gave a violent shudder, then immediately got to his feet. 

“We should go,” he urged. 

“Huh?” Elliott pushed themself into a sitting position from where they’d been sprawled on the ground. 

“Come on, we have to be quick.” Puck held out a hand and Elliott took it, allowing him to pull them to their feet. 

“What’s going on?” they asked.

“I’ll explain later. For now we just need to get out of here, this could be bad.” 

Elliott heard a shout in the distance, followed by another. 

“Come on,” Puck repeated, and Elliott followed his lead, cutting through the trees instead of taking the usual path down the hill. The shout was joined by more angry voices, and Elliott felt the hair on their arms stand on end as they tried to make sense of what was happening. 

The tinkling of broken glass could be heard as they neared the street. “This way,” Puck hissed, and together they skirted the edge of the park, still shrouded in the darkness of the trees. 

Two men passed by them on the street, running in the opposite direction. “I’ll fucking kill you!” bellowed one of them, who appeared to be in pursuit of the other. Elliott cringed. More shouts and footsteps followed. 

“Hang on,” Puck said once the commotion had passed, and the two froze for a moment, crouching in the bushes as he listened. “Alright,” he eventually whispered, “quickly, now.”

He led Elliott out of the woods and the two ran across the street, then kept running through the neighborhood until the park was well out of sight.

“What the hell was that?” Elliott gasped when they finally stopped.

“Who knows? Nothing good,” Puck muttered, not even having the decency to pretend to be winded.

“I thought you could control chaos,” Elliott pointed out.

“Not exactly… it’s more like I’m afflicted with it. Things just kind of spontaneously happen when I’m around. I’m sure there was some other catalyst for,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the disturbance, “whatever that was, but chances are it would have gone in a somewhat less dramatic direction if I hadn’t been nearby.” 

“Well what good is it being a chaos god if you can’t control it?”

“I mean, does anyone really control anything? Would it even be chaos if it could be controlled?” 

“Good grief…”

“Come on, if you’ve caught your breath, we should probably keep moving,” said Puck, and he began to walk again in the direction of Elliott’s apartment. “As it happens I can sometimes kind of direct it,” he said, getting back to his explanation, “but usually not consciously.”

“Then explain the lottery ticket,” Elliott challenged him.

“Right… that,” said Puck, with a shifty look. “Well, I can kind of temporarily hold back my effect on probability, but then there’s this sort of chaotic buildup that has to go somewhere. I wasn’t sure that you’d get a winning ticket if I released it at the right time, but I had a good feeling about it. Luckily nobody spontaneously combusted or anything,” he concluded with a  shrug. 

“You mean I could have just exploded?!”

“Well, it wasn’t out of the question. But look how it worked out! You’re rich, now!”

“Unbe-fucking-lievable,” Elliott muttered. 

They walked the rest of the way back to Elliott’s building in silence. 

“Are you alright?” Puck asked when they reached the door.

“Yeah… just thinking about how you risked potentially killing me just to win my belief…” 

“Oh. Fair enough,” Puck conceded. “Honestly, you should probably put some thought into how much time you really want to spend around me. It can be dangerous.”

“Thanks, I’m starting to realize that.” Elliott said half jokingly, but they could see the pain in Puck’s expression as they did. 

“Well, you know where to find me. Take care, and sorry about everything.” The young man turned and began to walk off into the night. 

“Goodnight, Puck,” Elliott called after him. “Take care.” 

***

When Elliott checked the news in the morning, the local station was full of coverage of the riot which had broken out in Vista Park the night before. Apparently it had begun over the claiming of a setlist as a concert was ending nearby. A woman had grabbed it off of the stage, and a young man had snatched it from her before darting out of the concert hall.

Bystanders had taken sides, and the ensuing brawl spilled out into the streets, eventually culminating at the park, where the young man had been chased down, and was subsequently beaten to within an inch of his life. The setlist, of course, had not survived the mob justice.