Page 52 of Reptile Dysfunction
“Tell me again why we need additional sequins? These bowties are already sparklier than a Vegas showgirl’s costume.” Thad stares at the mountain of craft supplies spread across my dining room table, his snakes eyeing the glittery pile.
“The Silver Swimmers decided the original sequins weren’t enough for ‘maximum underwater visibility,’” I remind him, sorting through spools of iridescent ribbon. “Apparently, the light catching the reflective accents creates a ‘magical effect’ through the underwater viewing window.”
“There’s nothing magical about a six-foot-four Gorgon covered in craft store leftovers,” he mutters, but Sterling is already nudging a particularly sparkly selection of blue sequins toward me.
“Sterling disagrees.” I point to the iridescent snake, who's now trying to arrange sequins into a pattern that suspiciously resembles his own scales. “He's a shameless attention-seeker, but he understands the artistic vision.”
“Unlike his compatriots, who still remember their enforcer dignity.”
As if on cue, several other snakes cautiously extend toward the craft supplies, their curiosity overcoming their attempt at aloofness.
We’ve commandeered my parents’ dining room for emergency water ballet costume preparations after the Silver Swimmers had what Mabel called “a conceptual breakthrough” during yesterday’s rehearsal. The “breakthrough” involved adding significantly more sparkle to everyone’s costumes, but particularly to Thad’s snake accessories, which now resemble tiny disco balls.
“Your mother is being suspiciously supportive of this whole production,” Thad observes as he reluctantly helps attach glittery embellishments to what were once modest miniature bowties. “I thought she’d be more concerned about the dignity of the Revelation celebration.”
“Are you kidding? She’s thrilled. Dad’s been so serious about everything, she thinks this is exactly what the community needs.” I grin, remembering my mother’s enthusiasm when I explained the concept.
“Exactly what it needs, huh?” Thad mutters, but his snakes betray his amusement by swaying gently. “I still don’t understand why they need these ridiculous accessories when they’re already decorative enough.”
Sterling makes a pleased little hiss at the compliment. “Unlike Sebastian's snakes, who maintain their color-coordinated bowties through sheer force of librarian willpower.”
“Says the man whose snakes are about to wear tiny sequined bow ties underwater,” I tease.
“Don’t remind me.” But his lips twitch with the beginning of a smile. “The things I do for community integration.”
“Very noble.” I lean over to kiss him lightly, and his snakes immediately ease closer, several abandoning their sequin inspection to reach for me hopefully. “Your hair disagrees with your grumpy act, by the way.”
“They’re terrible at maintaining the enforcer image lately.” His hand finds mine across the table, warm and solid. “Especially around you.”
The sound of the front door opening interrupts the moment. My father’s voice carries from the foyer, accompanied by the rustle of papers and the distinctive cadence of his “official business” tone.
“—need those property assessments by Thursday. And make sure the Harrington Development inquiries are properly documented. After that protest stunt, we need to be thorough.”
Thad’s snakes tense like drawn wires, their playful exploration of craft supplies forgotten as they shift into alert mode. Even Sterling straightens, his usual showboating replaced with enforcer focus.
Dad appears in the doorway, phone still to his ear. He pauses mid-sentence at the sight of a six-foot-four Gorgon at his dining table, surrounded by enough shiny adornments to supply a children’s pageant.
“I’ll call you back,” he says to whoever’s on the line, then pockets his phone. “Thaddeus. Didn’t expect to see you today.”
“Emergency costume consultation,” I explain, gesturing to the crafting chaos. “For the water ballet.”
“Ah.” Dad surveys the scene with what appears to be genuine amusement. “The Silver Swimmers’ production. Your mother’s been quite excited about it.”
“Sounds unanimous… except for me,” Thad grumbles.
“How are the business contracts coming along? I heard you secured a few downtown businesses yesterday.”
Thad gives a sigh of relief at the transition to business conversation. “Six shops signed on. After Harrington’s people made another round of visits, the owners were particularly receptive to security options.”
“I imagine they were.” Dad’s expression darkens slightly. “The council’s getting complaints about those visits. Nothing concrete enough for legal action, but definitely a pattern.”
“We’re documenting everything,” I assure him, slipping automatically into journalist mode. “Three business owners have agreed to go on record about the tactics being used.”
Dad nods thoughtfully. “Good. We’ll need that for the emergency zoning meeting on Friday.”
“Emergency zoning meeting?”
“To address concerns about predatory development practices in monster-owned districts.” Dad sips his water, then adds casually, “I thought Guardian Solutions might want to provide security for the event. Might be some… passionate attendees.”
