Io Caedmon sat behind the great oaken desk in the middle of SHOP and surveyed the organized chaos that constituted her son's workplace and residence. Though, she amended as a lobster 6 shooters blazing scuttled across the floor in front of her, organized may be a work too kind for the situation. “He promised me that he got rid of those.” The woman looked to her left, into the hollowed eyes of Rudolph, who was occupying himself with organizing a box of sporks. The skeleton offered no comment, continuing on with his task.

It had been a full two weeks since the woman had seen her son, when a full week passed without speaking to him she had come to SHOP only to find him in the basement exhausted, sickly and barely coherent. Io hadn't lectured, in his current state it would have gone right over her head and she wanted him completely aware before she laid into him, it gave her more time to plan. What she had done instead was haul her only child from the basement back upstairs, ordered him to bed and spell locked all available exits. Then she had returned downstairs and spent a tense few hours studying the scribbles and manic notes littering the basement floor. She understood few of them but collected them up anyway, carrying them from the basement back up to shop level. Atlas's condition for abandoning his research had been that she stay and mind the SHOP should anyone come in. And she was doing just that....and transcribing all of his notes into one of the empty spell books she had discovered lying under a wax figure of Grover Cleveland.

She wasn't completely sure why she was doing this. The notes would have to be replaced later, in their perfect and meticulous place of order before Atlas resumed his work. As a child she would play games with him, moving picture frames out of order, placing table settings at odd angles, he had never failed to find the change and correct it. The notes would be no different, but if she had copies she could study them in her own time. Questions about what he was doing, what was wrong had been deflected, so now it was time to take matters into her own hands.

She twirled a curl of brown hair around her index finger as she jotted down a few more formulas, pausing at one that she recognized as transfiguration and wondering if maybe Atlas could be doing work for Jasper. It was a possibility but an unlikely one. Her hand was poised over her third pile of notes when the sound of the door opening got her attention.

“WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!” Chirped Rudolph in greeting, Io kept her eyes on her writing, concentrating on getting the lines of one of the runes correct. “Can I help you with anything?” The final flourish finished she lifted her head smiling at the young man still standing in the doorway.

There was no good reason for Cal's continued patronage of the SHOP. If nothing else, his last two visits had ended in near-homicide. Atlas knew his weak points, he knew about Jasper... and his suspicion, if utterly unfounded in evidentiary support, had nonetheless the ring of truth only the paranoid could wrest from the cacophony of suspicion.

But he kept coming back, either to punish himself, to punish Caedmon, or because he was terrified the man would find something linking him to Garrow. If he thought back, for instance, to his discussion of the unicorn's blood--Cal was no showman. But on the rare days when, unraveling, he needed someone's attention or awe--well, after Carlisle died, Atlas had been one of the only contacts he had to the real world. Such as Atlas's was. He'd bragged, obliquely, more than was proper.

Besides, several of the chimera's livers Atlas had sold him were rotten. He needed recompense. Money was tight, particularly as he insisted on paying Jasper for his help with spells.

He was surprised to enter the shop, met by Rudolph's sempiternal "We're all going to die" and a suspicious movement of the eye sockets and jaw, and see no sign of Atlas. Just an older woman sitting behind his desk. Brown-haired, imposing, vaguely Atlas-like... hm?

"Can I help you with something?"

"What? Oh." Cal ran a hand uncomfortably through his hair and took a few jerky steps forward, peering down at what she was writing. "That should be ansuz, actually. Is Atlas here?"

The man’s eyes looked around the room and Io followed the movement , wondering what he might be looking for. Finally he ceased and approached the desk, looking down at her with an expression she would almost qualify as sheepish. What? Oh.. He lurched forward and Io resisted the small urge to push her chair back. He seemed sluggish and uncoordinated but not particularly dangerous. That should be ansuz actually. She immediately looked down at the paper frowning and almost didn’t hear what he said next. Is Atlas here?.

“My son is very ill at the moment.” She answered finally, slowing scrawling a black line through the note she had written and scrawled the rune then glanced over the rest of the formula looking for the change the rune might have made. She finished the flourish on the stem before lifting her head and offering the tottering man a smile, “Are you a dealer?” She asked looking the man up and down, noting the vague expression and clouded eyes. “Or a buyer?”

She stood suddenly, placing her palms on the desk and looking up at the man, they still weren’t at an even height but she didn’t have to crane her neck so much. “If your looking for something in particular I can be of service. If he was building something for you, or you’re here to pick something up I’m afraid you’ll have to come back another time….” She stopped, glanced down at the sheet in front of her, “Why should it be ansuz?”

Cal blinked. Atlas's mother? He declined to answer her on 'dealing or buying'. Demeaning.

He'd never pictured the shopkeeper as a son, though he supposed most people did have families of some sort. He recalled that Atlas didn't have a father (the 'bastard' comment). This woman, therefore, had been solely responsible for raising Atlas Caedmon. He didn't know if he ought to feel sorry for her, or frightened of her, and settled mainly for the latter. She stood up. Intimidating woman. Cal took an unconscious half-step back, shoulderblades straining toward each other, and inclined his head.

"I was looking for fresh chimera's liver; half of what your son sold me had gone off when I bought it. I am sure" because parents were always this way "that it wasn't his fault. Likely a preservative spell that wore unevenly, and he has been quite preoccupied lately, don't you think?" Maybe she'd give him some sort of answer. Where was Atlas, anyway? That he didn't ask. "And if you use fehu instead of ansuz, the transfiguration will only work in the physical world. I believe it's intended rather for energy fields and time, but--" he shrugged, ducking to look at the sheet again "--that hardly matters, those notes are too incomplete to create any sort of workable spell."

They were Atlas's notes. He was taking an unforgivable risk (ha) showing off this way, but it would hardly give anything too important away. Besides, unless he was mistaken, she was snooping through her son's notes. No wonder Caedmon was paranoid.

"I was working with Atlas on his spellcraft, too," he murmured, still leaning down, suddenly taken up with audacity. He flipped through another page of notes and tried not to let his breathing speed up as he parsed the lines of runes and mathematics. "Interesting stuff, isn't it?" Still miles behind the right answers, but... bothersome. Too close to the right questions.

The man took a nervous half step back, I was looking for fresh chimera's liver; half of what your son sold me had gone off when I bought it. I am sure that it wasn't his fault.. Was he worried about insulting her in some way? Likely a preservative spell that wore unevenly, and he has been quite preoccupied lately, don't you think?. Blinking at the man curious she nodded her agreement.

“Don’t make excuses for him of course its his fault. His dealings with customers should come well before his personal research.” The mans needs now expressed Io straightened herself and reached out her hand. “Do you still have the livers?” She seemed to think better of it a moment later and let her hand drop back down to rest along her leg. She drummed her fingers tapping a simple rhythm. “Oh you’ve no reason to lie I suppose do you?” Not waiting for an answer she sat back down, opening one of the drawers to her right and removing one of the SHOP’s log books. “Chimera’s livers.” She skimmed the pages, occasionally lifting her eyes to look at the rail thin man in front of her.

And if you use fehu instead of ansuz, the transfiguration will only work in the physical world. I believe it's intended rather for energy fields and time, but— He moved quicker than she would have thought him able and she shuffled slightly to better accommodate him, ceasing her search in order to peer at the paper he was explaining. "--that hardly matters, those notes are too incomplete to create any sort of workable spell.. He was right she realized looking over them again but it did nothing to reassure her. If the spell wasn’t in working order Atlas would press until it was. He hadn’t said anything to her about it, just been evasive. But this man seemed to have some idea of what they meant and had implied that he had known Atlas wasn’t being altogether himself.

I was working with Atlas on his spellcraft, too That was unexpected. Io sat back in her chair, scrutinizing him trying to place his face. Atlas was a private person even with her, if he had friends or colleagues they remained largely unknown, which left her at a large disadvantage in a case like this. When she had found Atlas she had considered owling Jasper and then dismissed the notion a moment later, but this man was here and why shouldn’t she take the opportunity to question him? Interesting stuff, isn't it?. Pulling herself back to the here and now she said nothing for a moment, simply frowned at the paper strew all over the desk.

“One word for it, yes.” Taking her chance, she continued. “You’re a….friend,” she pursed her lips and shook her head. “Associate of my son’s then? That is you were working with him on some sort of spell, this isn’t it? But you can decipher it? Forgive me you must be busy and I realize I am asking a number of questions but, you said he seemed ‘preoccupied’ lately. How long ago did you see him?”

“WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!” The skeletons outburst made her jump and she had half a mind to curse him into temporary silence. “Rudolph if you really want to be of service, go and find some chimera’s livers for this gentleman. I know you have no nose for freshness, so just bring them here once you find them.” The skeleton seemed truly hesitant to leave and Io had to make several shooing motions with her hands before he finally clattered off into the bowels of the store.

She was staring at him. Cal detested staring. One knee twitched upwards in an unconscious bid for his chin. His hands clasped on air and wanted ankle. His customary knees-up hunch was not going to give the right impression. Instead, he resettled in his chair and rubbed his ankles together. He felt oddly naked, despite his coat, and had to twine his fingers together to keep from drawing cramped patterns in the air.

He did run one hand carefully through his hair. Physically, it was a kind of mirror of Jasper's gesture, and it set him into a world that wasn't quite his own, that was more open and airier. Taking on a role somehow closed him off within himself, made him impervious. Because, of course, he wasn't himself. Was that how normal people felt?

"--I am Atlas's colleague." He nodded quickly, then leaned forward, beneath the beam of her stare, to examine the papers. "Through Jasper, more than anything. I'm in theoretical transfiguration." If she mentioned it to Atlas, he might just think she'd gotten confused. "It's been a little over a week since I've--seen him." Seen him, gotten into a physical fight, same thing.

Ignoring the woman and the skeleton, he continued to pore over what he could see of the equations, murmuring to himself. He recalled himself after a few minutes and looked up to make a belated reply.

"As for these, they are fragmentary and conjectural. I'm afraid I can't be of help."

I am Atlas’s colleague. Well that seemed to fit, Io drew back further as he peered down at the papers. Through Jasper,. This caused Io to look up at him again, more closely this time. For all of his convulsing the man was rather well dressed. Leaning away from the desk she glanced down at his feet, you could tell so much from shoes. Nice shine, a bit damp from the weather outside. She noted with a ghost of a smile that the bottom button of his shirt, visibly peeking out of the bottom of his coat, was out of alignment. The whole outfit did bear a echo of resemblance to Mr Christie, whose fasion sense and general decorum seemed to rub off on all he touched….except her son.

For a time she sat there, hands clasped in her lap, just watching him as he watched the paper. His lips moved, inaudible words pouring out, words she guessed weren’t directed at her. Shifting she glanced into the recesses of the store wondering where Rudolph might have gone. When she looked back the man met her eyes before speaking, As for these, they are fragmentary and conjectural. I’m afraid I can’t be of help..

Io sighed, and leaned back in the rickety chair, deflating as the air was expelled from her lungs. Lifting one of the sheets she glanced at it before letting it fall unceremoniously back to the desk, shaking her head. “Thank you at any rate. I would ask him, but I doubt he would be very telling about any of it. You’ve worked with him you must know how he is.” Both hands came up and massaged her temples gently. “There are piles of these all over the place…none of them make sense. Big power transfers, lists of illegal ingredients… There is a great deal of transfiguration involved, but I suppose he hadn’t discussed any of it with you?” Shaking her head, she splayed out her fingers.

“Sorry sorry, thinking aloud. Its just….” She paused knowing somewhere that she was saying to much, “Something he is doing is making him sick and I can’t find it. Where is that skeleton….” She stood from the desk and took a step toward the isle Rudolph had disappeared down. “Did you need anything else aside from the livers? And would you like them butchered here, or do you prefer to do it yourself?”