Page 3 of Myths and Shifts

Getting anyone to lay out timelines and give clear explanations was difficult.

But I could tell a jury what he’d eaten for dinner the night before and that he called everyone “fucking aliens” when they pissed him off.

I liked him.

My new acquaintance did his best not to sigh, but the breath he let out was very long. “I heard a rumor that the federal government will ask for help once in a while, but the area is considered off-limits. There was something about a standoff and I think I heard moonshine was involved. Either way, the Feds think they’re more trouble than they’re worth and just leave them alone.”

Good grief.

“That actually cleared a few things up.” No wonder I couldn’t get anyone to give me insight into the locals. “Thank you.”

He flashed me a grin that had a bit too much happy innocence to it to be anything other than his little side peeking out. “They’re kind of fun, though.”

Rolling my eyes had him trying not to giggle. “Just remember that sentiment when the men at the diner are asking you if you’re Team Pony or Team Binkie.”

And the giggle escaped.

“They’re very curious.” And had clearly already cornered him judging by how funny he found that topic. “They didn’t like being told it was none of their business either.”

“They need a more productive hobby than guessing everyone’s kinks.” I’d even caught a glimpse of some kind of list they’d printed out. “They also don’t hear the word no nearly often enough.”

“Um.” Doing a poor job of holding back a grin, he rocked back and forth on his feet. “That’s because they weren’t taught to stop with the word no.”

For fuck’s sake.

“Do not tell me the town’s busybodies have a safeword.” Shaking my head got a snicker out of him. “I refuse to hear it.”

“Are you safewording?” The cheeky question and grin made me think I was seeing his little side peek out even more strongly. “I didn’t hear aspecial word.”

The singsong tone to his sentence had me glaring at him. “Being cute is not going to help you get your way. I’m going to bury my head in the sand and ignore their nonsense.”

Pressing his lips together, he nodded and seemed to be trying to look innocent. It didn’t work, but I appreciated the effort. “You think I’m cute?”

His act over the safewords was manufactured to tease me, but this question felt more genuine, so I answered that way. “Yes, I think you’re very cute and I think you like playing and all the mischief around here.”

Littles generally did, which was how they seemed to be getting away with so much insanity.

Nodding eagerly, he seemed to sink deeper into his little side as he stepped closer to me and whispered. “They’re nice. They have toys at the diner they’ll bring out if you tell them you’re Team Binkie and the lady who runs it will give you special desserts too. They think you can be little and a good grown-up too.”

Clearly, the people he normally lived around did not see things the same way.

“Well, they’re insane but they’re not stupid.” That got a snicker from him. “Being little is a wonderful way for some people to relax. It doesn’t mean they aren’t good grown-ups when they’re big.”

Understanding that seemed to be the only thing I liked about the town so far.

“Being big is a lot of work andstressful.” The way he dragged out the word made me smile and that got another excited wiggle from him. “Do you have ways of being happy and not being boring big? Some of them think you’re always boring big, but I know you’re not.”

Good grief. They were already gossiping about me.

“I don’t want to know what the men at the diner said about me.” Not yet anyway. “They’re naughty.”

He nodded but his excited grin said that was what he liked about them. “But I’m a good boy.”

And one who’d clearly needed to de-stress.

“So far all I’ve seen is a big who worries a lot and a little who likes the naughty men in town.” My stern glare and raised eyebrow had him shaking with barely suppressed laughter. “But yes, I have ways of being happy and I’m never boring.”

I just wasn’t going to share my personal life with the overly nosy locals.

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