Zippy had almost forgotten the necessities for going out, but thankfully Betty had reminded him to grab both his tweed cap and matching coat before heading out to the heart of wizarding England. He had to make a report to Artemis – Immediately! He had evidence! Solid evidence to boot! Zippy had finally caught Herbert McCoy in the act of stealing dragon scales from the sweet natured Horntail that had taken up residence under his front porch. There had to be something a joint group of Sinistra’s could do for the beast before McCoy angered him enough to go on a fire-breathing rampage.

A quick jump over the dragon and a quick apperation later Zippy was in Diagon Alley, his evidence (four lemon drops and a sliver of a hot pink scarf) carefully tucked in his right hand pocket. One could never be too careful... that and his crazy grandson might run off with the bits of scarf. It was always hard to make that boy see reason... though Artemis still had yet to join him in his acts to protect the dragon under the porch.

But now he had evidence!

Zippy wandered along past the shops, nodding to people both real and imaginary. Some didn't have the decency to return the greeting others stared at him in shock as if surprised he could see them. That's what made it difficult. He couldn't tell the so called 'imaginary' beings from the real ones - they both reacted in similar ways.

However he was quite sure the skeleton to his left was real, the one standing in front of some shop, creatively entitled SHOP looking rather forlorn. Everyone was giving the adorable creature as much space as was humanly possible during rush hour in the alley. Must be one very important skeleton!

Zippy skipped over to it, a merry twinkle in his eyes, having already decided that Artemis could wait to see his evidence. He was going to have a look at the skeleton. It might just help him find the proper answer to give Apollo's never ending supply of questions regarding immortality...

Zippy gave the skeleton a half bow, remembering for once to remove his cap while doing so - Iris and Betty would both be proud. "Hello good sir! Lovely afternoon for a bit of people watching eh?" He asked the skeleton.

He was answered with a very loud and very clear "WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!". Taken aback Zippy decided to see what this so called SHOP was hiding that was going to bring about his doom. Last he had checked there was nothing worrisome about the shop, in fact he recalled rather enjoying shop the last time multicolored troll had insisted he go.

"Indeed, and I before you no doubt." He responded merrily before slipping inside. What greeted his eyes was enough to bring a heart attack to anyone of an advanced age that did not go around riding unicorns (there were some ponies up the street) at night and comforting dragons in the midmorning.

"Ello? Lovely doorman you've got there." Zippy called out, as he made his way towards some objects he had only dreamed of playing with. Was that really a grow-your-own-warts kits from the 20s in mint condition sitting in front of him? Oh the fun he could have with that! The warts from that decade were a very distinctive shade of grey that let off a smell quite similar to rotten eggs. Apollo would love them!

Atlas was seated top of the large oaken desk at the center of shop, tongue protruding out of the left side of his mouth, and a frown creasing his brow. In one hand he held what had once been a fish bowl. He had enchanted the glass, making it a conductor then speant the rest of the morning adding parts and components. Atlas wasn't exactly sure what he planned to use it for...or what it would turn out to be. Worse came to worse he could always try and sell it, maybe someone else could make it work...whatever it was. This was one of the more delicate pieces, a ringlet of mercury he had extracted from some old muggle thermometer and then charmed into a hard solid form.

He had banished Rudolph outside a few hours before, when he had grown tired of the skeletons ceaseless requests to be taken to the Sinistra's. Atlas had taken him last week and instead of going in the skeleton had just stood outside the shop looking forlorn and pawing at the air. He was subject to Atlas's whims, not the other way around and sooner or later he would have to learn that.

The other advantage to Rudolph acting as doorman was the fact that with a talking skeleton trying to make conversation directly in front of the door people tended to be discouraged from coming in. Atlas leaned left...locked the part into place and nearly dropped the whole sphere when Rudolph's shouted mantra reverberated through SHOP.

Ello? Lovely doorman you've got there.”

The voice didn't even sound sarcastic...maybe Rudolph was loosing his touch. Atlas considered heading further into SHOP, the customer would tire of looking for him, or might get caught up listening to the moose's speil...or the bandits might get to them and Atlas would loose the better part of the afternoon dispelling a hostage situation. He eased himself off the desk, straightened the shirt he was wearing and dusted some of the metal filings off his pant leg.

He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a small tweed coated....was that a gnome? No, too tall, Atlas took a measured step back and got a better look. “Thank you, normally his manner leaves something to be desired.” Atlas's eyes went from the man to what he had been inspecting on the shelves. The grow kit? Fairly good taste, interesting choice. Man looked familiar but in that strange little nagging way that told you you were forgetting something, or in this case someone. “Looking at the wart kit? I can garuntee all the parts are included, recalled in 1926...something about unsafe ingredients I think. Caused shrunken heads, some people are so protective these days...”

The old man blinked up at him owlishly. “Or were you looking for something else today?”

Who wouldn't want a set of grey egg smelling warts? It was a mystery how the box had remained intact for so long. From what he could recall his mother had been rather found of growing a set of magenta ones of special occasions. The always did look stunning with her - “Thank you, normally his manner leaves something to be desired.”

Zippy looked up from the wart kit and into a pair of alarmingly piercing yet slightly familiar blue eyes. He searched his memory for a name, yet his memory being as it was, could only come up with Globe Trotter, which he doubted any sane person would name their child - maybe Apollo would like the suggestion? To bad the boy didn't have a steady yet, it was Zippy's wish to live to see the next generation of Sinistra children, especially from the twins.

“Looking at the wart kit? I can garuntee all the parts are included, recalled in 1926...something about unsafe ingredients I think. Caused shrunken heads, some people are so protective these days... Or were you looking for something else today?”

It did what? Zippy blinked at the owner a couple more times, torn between further trying to figure out the lads name, complining a list of odd things to suggest to his grandson, and dancing about gleefully with the kit. Neither option won however. Sanity took hold and guided him to a more civilized route.

"Shrunken heads you say? How marvelous! I must have been getting this set mixed up with their successor - the rotten egg smell was said to clear parties in an instant." He picked up the box, giving it a fond pat, before looking back at the store owner looking something like a little boy that had just found a new favorite candy store. "What else do you have? My grandson can always use a bit of... character building." He remarked with a smile, his feet already guiding him to the next object to catch his eye.

He dusted off a rather mangled looking box with faded black script reading oujia. Decades of work and memories slowly filtered back. His life's work, his enlightenment, Betty, the so called 'invisible friends'. Understanding the spirit world had been his life's work, one that the ministry had funded up till they deemed him unstable. Yet here in SHOP was a vital tool to such investigations. He would have to smuggle it back to the house past both Iris and Betty if he could convince the shop owner to part with it.

This could be tricky. Hopefully the other shopper, a lad with blue wings and purple hair, would mind his own business and stay with the moose head till after Zippy had purchased the ouija board.

"I didn't know these were available to the general public." He mused. "How much is it?"

The little man peered up at him, blinking owlishly and studying Atlas with a level of scrutiny that he wasn't at all accustomed to from his normal customers. Not that any of his repeat customers ever tended to be especially normal. Occasionally a tramp or two might wander in but this one didn't look homeless, just a tad eccentric. An eccentric with impeccable taste if his first selection was to be trusted. Seeking out the kit on the self next to the Mystery Date and the Lord of the Rings Monopoly required a real eye for junk hunting, a certain level of sophistication.

A wizened hand lifted the box from its place on the shelf, giving it a good and proper pat before it was tucked up under the man's arm. The look he leveled at Atlas when they again made eye contact was simply...well adorable for lack of a better word. It was the sort of look that could only be achieved by the very old and the very small but by no one in between. It was the sort of look might earn one a jovial pat on the head, had that not involved both physical contact and a major breach in customer owner codes of conduct. Atlas was tempted none the less. What else do you have? My grandson can always use a bit of ...character building. Atlas had the distinct feeling that 'charcacter building' meant something slightly different to someone who was over joyed by the idea of a nearly hundred year old kit known to case sudden and unexpected shrunken heads than what it might mean to average person. The old man didn't elaborate further though, he was already off and down the aisle.

Atlas normally liked to leave customers to themselves as much as possible, steering them away from the moose or accompanying them when the lobsters were looking ready for a kidnapping. Now though he found himself with a kindred spirit of sorts and so followed; Curious about what item the man might select next. The hand snaked out again and Atlas had to take a few steps forward and lean over slightly to get a good look at what had been chosen. There was something about the sparkle in his eyes as he lifted the oujia board and studied it, something....Apollo. It was the same look Apollo had when he caught sight of...well whatever it was that Apollo had a mind to catch sight of that week. This was Zippy Sinistra. Brilliant, brilliant and just a little bit cracked, Atlas's grandfather had worked with him extensively once upon a time and stil maintained the elder Sinistra had been given a terrible hand by the Ministry.
I didn't know these were available to the general public. How much is it? That was...a very good question. Atlas glanced up at the lable above the shelf, swinging from the ceiling on metal hinges, they were in gamma 12...he had gotten around to pricing anything in gamma 12 yet.
“
It is rarity. I had to fight off a very smelly muggle in order to obtain it.” The man had told him he was just looking for some food but Atlas had known better. He wouldn't be fooled. “I've never actually been brave enough to attempt to use it. I'm affronted that the Ministry doesn't have stronger regulations against such things. Muggle teenagers contacting the spirit world theres no telling what they might summon through.” There was still the matter of price, Atlas looked down, noticing one of the buttons was missing from his shirt. “Do you have any buttons? I currently have no way to defend myself against kumpunaphobes. I would also take some information if your willing to give any. No preference.” He was getting the owl look again. “Or we can negotiate price in terms of cash if thats more acceptable to you Sir.”

“It is rarity. I had to fight off a very smelly muggle in order to obtain it.”

Oh dear. This was sounding quite serious. Smelly muggles were trying to get into the spirit world? Where they even prepared for such a thing? Certainly not. If the ministry wasn't fully prepared to get into full contact with it the muggles never would be... yet maybe this smelly muggle was secretly a ministry operative? He was going to have to pay dearly for this find. More than likely with his life if Betty or Iris found him with it. Betty as least would be more understanding. She did so want to return from where he had plucked her. Yet he has the sneaking suspicion that Iris has strictly forbidden him from resuming any of his work ever again.

"A smelly muggle? Merlin you were brave to fight back such a crazed being. Does it work?"

“I've never actually been brave enough to attempt to use it. I'm affronted that the Ministry doesn't have stronger regulations against such things. Muggle teenagers contacting the spirit world theres no telling what they might summon through.”

Apparently the rest of the populace used the boards a bit differently than himself. No matter. You did not summon spirits you merely opened a door to the spirit world by entering in the proper code with the help of a spirit friend. Seeing as he had plenty of those, all infinitely more willing to help than Betty would be, the board could provide some ground breaking material. If only he could remember the human part of the deal. Was it to chant or was it to hum bits of 'God Save the Queen' backwards? He would have to consult his other contraband - the Magic 8 Ball.

"Do you have any buttons? I currently have no way to defend myself against kumpunaphobes. I would also take some information if your willing to give any. No preference. Or we can negotiate price in terms of cash if thats more acceptable to you Sir."

Buttons? He had his dragon evidence, some nose hair gum, a bit of lint, a lighter, his wand, and various tools of his own design. Nothing with buttons however. He had left the banshee baster that Apollo had kindly decorated with a plethora of buttons at home. Pitty. That would have been a delightful deal. He shot the other customer an assessing look. Two large mint green buttons twinkled back mischievously at him.

"Cash? No no that won't be necessary. Do you mind if I..." Zippy trailed off as if Atlas had answered, attempting to summon the other man's coat buttons with a nifty pick pocket spell he had learned in the 80s. Nothing came but the man did shoot him a rather peeved look, his wings fluttering angrily, the bottles on the shelf rattling. Not one for a laugh that one wasn't. The skeleton let out a peeved "WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE" from his post by the door, which sounded oddly like, 'How would you like someone stealing buttons from you after you had died? He's still not gotten over the fact that fairies can die.'

"Oh bother. I hope I didn't offend you sir. My condolences and a speedy departure." Zippy yelled back towards the skeleton and the now established spirit of a rather large fairy, before fixing his gaze back on Atlas who seemed to be treating the entire event as if it were a normal occurrence. "Don't attempt to steal a spirit essence's buttons my dear boy, no matter how pretty. They don't appreciate it. If he gives you any problems later on that your doorman can't sort out let me know." Zippy remarked calmly, the wart kit still tucked under one arm, the Ouija board in the other. "Now tell me what sort of information would you like? Or would it be more economical to just pay cash?"

The little man commended Atlas on his bravery with dealing with the stench laden muggle and Atlas shrugged in return. It was one of those dangers that one had to accept if they were going to participate in the time honored and ancient tradition of dumpster diving. Most of the muggles he came across when he branched into greater London were surprisingly pleasant, often young university students looking for a meal and nattering on about being 'green'. Atlas had never really understood these brief conversations he had had with these individuals. They were very obvious not green, caucasion or black, sometimes asian, but obviously full blooded muggle. No goblin or swamp creature in them to cause a green pigment. Atlas had a very odd way of going about logic but even they gave him cause for pause.

The green muggles were always looking for food, but the dumpsters they were rooting through were usually located near of directly behind a restaurant. Couldn't they just pop round the front? Better selection at least. Then there were the other muggles you came across, the smelly ones, the drunk ones, these were the most unpleasant figures (though not all the time...that cockney fellow by the dock had offered Atlas some jellied eels one day). They gathered all night and then sometime around five am they would take there treasures and head to the park, lying them out for display on blankets and bags. That was where Atlas had found the board and acquiring it had been a task. First he had had to convince the tramp of how valuable it was and then he had had to convince the tramp to part with it. A task that took a tense and frustrating series of hours.

Cash? No no that won't be necessary. Do you mind if I.... Zippy trailed off, looking at a place behind and below Atlas's shoulder's and flicking his hand. It was either a spasm or he was attempting some kind of spell. But on what? Atlas turned looking in the same direction as the old man. He saw a broom, a shelf containing the complete record collection of Joanie Mitchell (play it backwards and it would give you the location of Odysseus second ship) and the robotic Zoltar fortune telling machine, who blinked back at him between funny looks he was shooting at the customer.

One of the shelves rattled and Rudoplh from his perch near the door piped up with a reprimand, which always lost a little bit of fire considering you never new exactly what he was yelling at you about. Atlas looked around that area of the SHOP for a few moments more before returning attention to the Sinistra. He'd have to call that exorcist again, he hated when strays loitered around the shop.

Oh bother. I hope I didn't offend you sir. My condolences and a speedy departure. The owlish eye swung back up to Atlas, the mans lips quirked as if he was about to impart some important advise. Atlas made sure to pay attention. Don't attempt to steal a spirirt essence's buttons my dear boy, no matter how pretty. They don't appreciate it. If he gives you any problems that your doorman can't sort out let me know..

Atlas took a brief moment to wonder how one might be able to get in contact with the man. Smoke signals? Hmmm unlikely...he was rather small and maybe didn't have access to a roof and a large signal fire...owly was a possibility but those were easily intercepted, and asking Arty was out of the question. Atlas had no desire to do anything that the other shop owner might consider bad for her family. He had stayed in her good graces so far (despite involvement with Jasper who she seemed convinced as the anti Christ in training) and he wouldn't want to ruin the trend. Instead he just nodded and smiled, “Rudolph can be rather stern with the strays that we get from time to time. I think they concern him actually, thinks I'll adopt another one and he won't get the same level of attention as before. Course I can't really see them myself, certainly don't hear them, so he has nothing to worry about. Try telling him that though,” Atlas rolled his eyes, “ Nothing, just doesn't want to hear it. But I appreciate the offer sir.”

Now tell me what sort of information would you like? Or would it be more economical to just pay cash?

Most people did seem to prefer cash, Atlas wasn't one of them. Where was the enjoyment in that? “Information is almost always preferable, especially for items whose exact value is rather difficult to determine. Typically I leave it up to the customer to determine exactly what kind of news they'd like to impart to me. Then we negotiate from there. There are a few matters I have been investigating personally, maybe you have some knowledge of those.There is a bingo center in the middle of town inhabited entirely by elderly women...they play for hours but with no discernible goal. I believe there actions are nefariuos and might be incorporating the lost teachings of the Pythaorians...but I have no way to prove it. Do you know anything about the South Bend Bingo club? Or do you know anything about Green Muggles?”

He wanted information. It really would have been much more convenient if that fairy spirit would have relinquished his buttons. What did he know of they pythaorians and green muggles? Iris would know, she knew all sorts of things about bingo, she played on a weekly basis from one till four every friday afternoon and then she went on to play bridge.

Why she and the other witches around town wanted to spend their time rebuilding and burning bridges was beyond him, though Betty had tried to explain it was some sort of female ritual of friendship. What that said about the fairer sex had been to much for Zippy. He had tired to ban Iris from said social rituals, citing he was now sure how bridge construction helped her retain friends but he was having none of it. Iris and Betty had ended up in fits - first when he had told Iris not to play, then when he had asked Betty why everyone found his earnest request a laughing matter. He only wanted what was best for Iris.

Maybe he could fool the bright eyed lad into thinking he knew what he was talking about it? Seeing as he had fought off smelly muggles that was unlikely. Pity. And the fairy spirit had left in a huff not moments earlier - so asking him for some input was out of the question.

"My wife plays this bingo - and bridge. I've been told its some sort of female social ritual where friendships are constructed and are destroyed all to the sound of hammers. Though that shouldn't be enough to buy me a Ouija board."

Atlas seemed to agree, while his skeleton gave his vocal equivalent to pay up buddy. What sort of information did he have that might interest the shopkeeper? Zippy gave a happy clap, accidentally smashing a wayward pixie in the process. Silly creature should have know better than to pop up right between his hands...

"Why don't we let the Ouija board give you the information you seek? I might be a bit rusty but I am sure I can call up some knowledgeable creature with... oh. Betty won't like that." He couldn't summon Betty to answer questions about bingo to purchase a Ouija board without her knowing. That would just be silly. Atlas would get his information and Zippy would get his board taken away from him. Not a fair exchange.

"How about some life lessons? Those must be worth something to a man of your ilk and stock. I've got quite a plethora of tidbits about how to determine the sources of the voices in your head, how to tell if someone is real without poking them with a spirit stick , the best way to exit level nine and still go past the best coffee trolly as of thirty years ago, and, my personal favorite, the secret to making Apollo not wear glitter. Take your pick." Zippy rambled, Ouija board already halfway in his bag. The board was coming with him whether he had to take down the shop keeper and dismantle the skeleton or not. He was old but not weak... with magic. Some might still argue he was a bit weak in the head but ministry official's opinions rarely mattered in his world.

My wife plays this bingo-, Atlas resisted a sudden urge to take a cautious step back. He wasn't sure if this Bingo could be contagious, or if there was any sort of cure should he contract it. St. Mungos had come up with some innovations over the years, including and not limited to coming up with a small Apollo Sinistra specific medical team, but even they had their limits. He might as well hear the man out though, and bidge.. Oh God...there was another game attended by droves of elderly women. With their wisdom and knitting strength combined there would be no limit to what they would be able to do. I've been told its some sort of female social ritual where friendships are constructed and are destroyed all to the sound of hammers.

Atlas nodded, two of the fingers of his left hand tapping against his chin. It was a fascinating idea and Atlas took a moment to imagine these meetings. He could see them all there, little flowered dressed, hammering and toiling in the harsh fluorescent light, hammering away like those miners in that muggle opera. The information was precious had no doubt been obtained through methods of diligence and secrecy. Bridge and Bingo seemed to be one of the rituals of female mystery, like their habit of only going to the lavatory in pairs and sometimes much larger groups.

He did have to agree however that this information, although valuable would not be enough to persuade him to part with the rare and precious treasure that was the Ouija board. Rudolph, rattled behind him, leaning forward and resting his bony chin on the plane of Atlas's shoulder. When the little man clapped his hands together Rudolph jerked backwards, flailed for a moment and then promptly fell from his stand. Atlas sighed, hoping most of the skeleton had managed to hold together.

Why don't we let the Ouija board give you the information you seek? The exuberance faded quickly replaced with mild trepadation. Oh Betty won't like that.. Atlas glanced around in search of this Betty. Maybe she was the Bridge playing wife that had been previously mentioned. Atlas hoped she wasn't here, he now knew the secrets of the Bridge and she might make efforts to make sure he didn't live to provide that information to others.

How about some life lessons? He proceeded to list several possibilities for information, ranging from useless to mildly interesting to....glitter? Atlas's eyes came up from where they had been watching the little man make motions to putting the board into his satchel. The elderly were to be respected but never underestimated. People who made that mistake typically ended up robbed, or flat on their backs with no knowledge of how they got there. Atlas wasn't really interested in doing either.

“I call your bluff sir. There is no force upon this earth that could prevent Apollo Sinistral from wearing glitter in levels that would be toxic to most muggles and several wizards. Such knowledge would be well worth the price of that board, so long as you can deliver on it.”

He really shouldn’t have added that last bit. The entirety of the Sinistra family had kept that well guarded secret from his son’s friends and the rest of the wizarding community for one reason. No one wanted a sane Sinistra running about, worse yet a sane highly logical Sinistra that always came to the conclusion that the world would be a better place if he just took over it – and not with glitter and ponies. Such a creature was created every time the wonder drug was given to Apollo.

It was his fault they even knew about it. But he had taken pity on his son and daughter-in-law. Artemis was such a cute adorable child, completely able to tiptoe the line between insanity and brilliance without any guidance, she had played with her building blocks and done well in school. But then there was the other twin, the one who preferred either complete sanity or complete insanity. Zippy couldn’t be blamed for his actions, he had simply explained the symptoms of his grandchild to a muggle medic and been given a jar of Ritalin. The results on a twelve year old Apollo had been catastrophic. Gone was the glitter, the smile, the boyish charm and in its place was a little evil genius with a love of black suits.

Those two pills took a whole day to wear off. One very interesting yet long day. So many theories had been developed and had the boy been a bit older they would have actually been tested – Artemis bless her young self had done her best to put up with her new brother but had ended up in tears with her mother and father – all whom couldn’t have been happier when the medicine had ran its course. Apollo still refused to acknowledge what had happened that day – and during the consequent experiment with a half dose when he had turned 18.

Not one of Zippy’s better pranks to say the least. Especially when Apollo had threatened to AK him if he didn’t relinquish the bottle of Ritalin so he could remain his ‘true’ self forever and ever while Artemis had threatened him with the same spell if he handed it over to her brother. Thankfully the half dose hadn’t lasted as long as the full dose and the stand off ended as Apollo began to shriek in horror at the ‘square’ haircut he had given himself. Most definitely not a good birthday prank.

But really what harm could this shopkeeper cause knowing the secret? And Ouija boards were so rare…

“Its really quite simple. To tame the glitter you must venture into the muggle world and procure a bottle of Ritalin. One pill will cause the glitter to drop for a half day, two for 24 hours. Though I must warn you now, Artemis will kill you if you do approach her brother with such a thing. It does more than remove his sparkle.”

Zippy paused, wondering if it would be best for him to expound upon the pros and cons of using the drug – a look at Atlas told him that he had given him more than Ouija board was worth. “Have I paid in full? Or do you need proof? Just mention the drug to Artemis and Apollo and watch.”

He gave a graceful shrug deciding that was more than enough about his grandson – the boy could steal a room’s attention without being in it - and focused on Rudolph, “ How old is your skeleton?”

It had been a rouse, a clever one but a rouse none the less. Such information simply didn't exist. Apollo was the human equivalent to the coconut crab seeking out and hoarding objects that reflected or sparkled, sometimes objects that simply made a pleasing sound when clacked together. To remove those traits from the coconut crab would remove its very essence and the same could be done to Apollo if the claims of the elder Sinistra in front of him (who appeared to be having some sort of crisis) could be held up as true.

As the mans little hands gripped tighter on the board Atlas readied himself for the explanation to come. Its really quite simple. Atlas's eyebrow quirked slightly but he did manage to keep the majority of his skepticism out of his face. It didn't do to be rude after all. To tame the glitter you must venture into the muggle world and procure a bottle of Ritalin. One pill will cause the glitter to drop for a half day, two for 24 hours..

Ritalin, ritalin, Atlas had heard of it, occasionally someone would come by and try to pass the small pills off as ingredients. Muggle substitutes for gigas powder in fact but Atlas had never made use of them. But I must warn you now, Atlas perked up, wresting himself from his internal stock check, and looked swung his gaze back to Zippy. Artemis will kill you if you do approach her brother with such a thing. It does more than remove his sparkle..

Really? Atlas half expected the man to put down the board and add a pair of jazz hands to his warning. Artemis will kill you. he repeated to himself, musing. Atlas had miraculously managed to avoid Artemis Sinistra's ire. There had been a few close calls granted, particularly those few times at Hogwarts where Jasper had implored him to stall her while he found a secluded cabinet to hide in until her anger at his latest plot had blown over. But all in all Atlas had amazing avoided any kind of maiming incident and rather thought that Artemis and he got on rather well. It seemed odd that she clearly knew of a way to dampen Apollo (from the sun to more of a twinkly star) and yet never made use of it. Even during London fashion week when Atlas generally avoided an entire section of the alley for fear of running into one or both of the twins.

This bore further investigation, as soon as possible. Apollo had so much untempered talent if it could be chaneled somehow...even barring that the change in personality would be fascinating. Have I paid in full? Atlas, who had been looking at a point above Zippy's wizened head, looked down over the ouija board. Or do you need proof? Just mention the drug to Artemis and Apollo and watch.. Cursory glance didn't give any indication that he might be lying, he'd be privy to the information, and Atlas could always test it, and if it proved to be false he could always take the option of informing Artemis about the purchase. Assured that the trade was fair Atlas nodded in the affirmative.

“Very adequately. I hope you enjoy your purchase.” He was already wondering where he might have some of this mystery drug lurking around when Zippy piped up.

How old is your skeleton?.

Atlas blinked, glanced down at himself. “26....admitedly with some wear and tear,” Zippy's eyes weren't on him though they were on something behind and to the right. Atlas turned part way, catching sight of Rudolph who was half way up one of the shop ladders feather duster in one bony hand, the other looped through the rung above him. God knew what he was trying to get at. Atlas knew his knee was going to fall of a few milliseconds before it did and he moved to try and reach it. He missed and it clattered to the floor. Rudolph, unperturbed, watched Atlas pick the leg up before adding.

“WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!”

“Was that a thank you?” He asked as he hefted the leg on one shoulder. No response. “No, I suppose not.” Atlas returned to Zippy's side, looking the leg over before placing it on a nearby shelf. “I assume you meant Rudolph? I honestly don't know his age, Sir. He's been here going on four years, though I don't know much about him prior to that.”

“I don't know much about him prior to that.” That was a pity. Betty might like the chap, only she would never pop by unless he insisted and eve then she insisted on only seeing older souls than herself. A highly unique concept seeing as both he and Artemis were considered old souls in her mind where as Apollo’s was often compared to the three year old that lived down the street. Not that he wasn’t going to mention the skeleton to her – at his age he took enjoyment wherever he could and the additional bonus of having Betty snoop about the SHOP was he could then use his board without her interference. Why with a bit of time reviewing his work and sending her off to possibly meet her true love there were all sorts of possibilities as to what he could do with his board.

Well worth the family secret.

“Pity, I thought I might know a lovely lady that would be interested in him.” Zippy gave a shrug, the ouija board tucked comfortably under one arm, the wart kit lost in one of his pockets. He didn’t want the boy to change his mind after all. “Now I suppose its time to leave. Lovely talking with you!” Zippy headed for the door, minding his step around what looked to be lava – could they sell that in a shop?

With the SHOP door open as he made his way to leave a small inkling of what he might have done reached his mind, causing him to pause a bit haphazardly between SHOP and the unicorn that had been waiting patiently for him to exit. Stupid thing, didn’t it know it would find no virgin maidens to protect in there? “Do heed my warning dear boy. I speak from experience its best to leave my grandchildren to their own devices. I would hate to send some uninvited guests for a visit.” He tapped the ouija board for emphasis before giving a cheery wave and disappearing down the street.

Zippy paused a moment in front of the Sinistra Shop, wondering vaguely if he should give Arty some sort of heads up that he might have traded her brother’s soul for a banded ministry object but thought better of it. The trouble he would get into for telling her about his day’s adventurer would surely be greater than the likelihood that the shop boy would actually use the information he had imparted to him. So with a skip in his step he followed the chickens to the other side of the road and made his way home.