Robin stands in the cold night air, rain gently pattering down over her cloche. The hobgoblin girl shudders and wraps her hands over her arms, her teeth chattering.
“Best be careful. That excitement can do some nasty business to your body.” The voice that speaks up is grave yet fatherly. With a “thwip,” the pattering of rain ceases on her head and instead lands on the umbrella above her.
Robin spins around, and standing, rolling an old green coat off his shoulders, is Senan. The old leprechaun hands her the outfit, which she takes, slipping onto herself.
“What are you?” the hobgoblin says.
“Lots of things,” the leprechaun says, nodding.
“What… are we?” she asks.
He takes a moment to stand in the wet rain and reaches his hand out, close to her heart, but he sifts through the breast pocket and pulls out his pipe. “Labels mean little when you’ve been around as long as I,” he says, placing the cold pipe in his mouth. “It doesn’t do any good to quibble over such things.”
“So, lots of things?”
“Same as you, I’d wager,” Senan says. “All that matters is that you’re safe.”
“I manipulated you,”
“You can see what happens to those who cross me,” he says, nodding down the road.
Robin starts to walk down the street, side-by-side with him. “I… suppose,” she says. “But I didn’t actually see what happened. What did you do to them?”
“There are some details that are a bit gratuitous to have for a story,” he says, arriving at the bar's entrance. As he reaches for the door, she places a hand upon his.
“I don’t want to be out in public just yet,” she says.
He quirks an eyebrow at her, nods, and leads her to the cobbler. There, they arrive in the dark little room, with nothing but the shoes to be their company. He closes the umbrella, giving it a few shakes as Robin steps into the room, placing down the care package, taking off her hat and peeling off the old coat.
“The fire at the pub would probably be much more appealing to you right now, I’d wager,” Senan says. Before he can say anything else, she’s behind him, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling her cheek against his back. Her shoulders quake in silent sobs.
Senan stands there a moment, but then he turns around, making sure not to break the embrace, and he places a hand upon her head, giving her a gentle pat, and pulls her in to rest against his vest.
Together, the two stand there, alone among the shoes, letting the night’s experience linger and this intimate moment stay as the memory this day had provided.
—
Senan pours a heady froth of beer and slides it down along the table. The drunken dwarf catches it and chugs it with a happy “another!” 
Robin steps up to the booth, dressed in a cute little skirt and blouse. Her footwear is stylish but practical. “What can I get for you two?”
Tik Tik looks to her dining companion for the evening, and Judith Wainwright, off duty and sitting with her gray eyes revealed, blushes deeply.
“What’s the matter, ‘boss’? Robin asks. “Sorry that I gave up a promising career for something simpler?”
“N-no, it’s not that!” Judith says, pulling the menu closer to her face.
“Captain Wainwright needs to learn let hair down more,” Tik Tik says, “So Tik Tik help her do that. See good things about Anteronia. It not all bad.”
“Perhaps,” says Judith, who lowers her menu. “And, work has been quite stressful lately; I suppose there’s a part of me who admires the ability to give it all up.”
“There’ll always be work,” says Robin. “You just got to know when it's time to let someone else do it for you. Now, then, can I get you started with something, or are you two just going to make eyes at each other all evening?”
—
Sitting on the rooftop of the two old buildings, Senan and Robin look over the city around them. Beyond, the tents are being set up for the mysterious carnival, which comes to town with promises of much more business than usual.
“You glad you hired me on, Shorty?”
“Aye, I suppose I am,” the leprechaun said, puffing his pipe.
Robin pulls out her own pipe, finally carved into the shape of a scowling and bearded face. “You should try some of this stuff the Grand Caravan got from across the ocean–it’s sweet.
“It isn’t supposed to be sweet, and it’s supposed to calm you down,” he says.
“And why do you need to be calmed down?” Robin asks, a bright smile on her face.
“I dunno,” he says, puffing out a ring of smoke. “It’s just the way it is, I suppose.
Robin takes her own puff and blows out a long line.
“You know, it’s bad for you,” Senan says. “I only do it because I’m an old man, set in my ways.”
“I’m a youngster still looking for my ways. Let me try this.”
“Try? With all, you spent on it?”
She smiles and hands him the pipe and her pouch of the leaf. “Well, pops, you can have it because I decided it's not for me.”
“I thank you for the gift.”
“Think you’ll tell me about your time in the Judicators? We’re both retired vets now.”
“Maybe we are,” he says, “But you don’t share glories with just one person. I’ve heard about an old officer’s group, and maybe we should check it out.”
“You know what pops? I think I’d like that.”
And she leans her head upon his shoulder, sighing as they watch the nightlife pass them by.