Minnie stepped back, hands on her hips, and surveyed her new home. It wasn’t grand, nor was it particularly spacious, but it was hers. That alone made it feel remarkable.
The movers had done the heavy lifting—literally—unpacking her furniture and arranging it to her specifications. The one-bedroom unit was modest, with a combined living and dining area, a rather small kitchen, and a single bathroom, but Minnie had made the most of her space. She had converted half of her bedroom into a small office, separated by a room-dividing partition. Her bookshelves, now neatly arranged, were filled to the brim with historical texts, research materials, and a few well-worn romance novels tucked away on the bottom shelf—her one indulgence that she never quite admitted to anyone.
Sunset Beach Condos had definitely seen better days. The paint on the exterior was faded, the hallways smelled faintly of salt and age, and some of the balconies on the higher floors had visible rust creeping along their railings. But to Minnie, there was charm in its imperfections. The place had a history, a story to tell, and she found that oddly comforting.
She left the front door slightly ajar as she worked, adjusting picture frames and setting out a few knick-knacks to make the space feel more like home. If someone happened to walk by, perhaps they’d say hello. Not that she was expecting a warm welcome—she had lived most of her life being overlooked, blending into the background. But this move had been a step toward something new, and maybe, just maybe, it would lead to something unexpected.
With a sigh, she brushed a loose strand of chocolate-brown hair from her face and grabbed a stack of books to place on the shelf. Outside, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore drifted in, mingling with the low hum of life in the condo complex. The world continued on, indifferent yet full of possibilities.
The movers had done the heavy lifting—literally—unpacking her furniture and arranging it to her specifications. The one-bedroom unit was modest, with a combined living and dining area, a rather small kitchen, and a single bathroom, but Minnie had made the most of her space. She had converted half of her bedroom into a small office, separated by a room-dividing partition. Her bookshelves, now neatly arranged, were filled to the brim with historical texts, research materials, and a few well-worn romance novels tucked away on the bottom shelf—her one indulgence that she never quite admitted to anyone.
Sunset Beach Condos had definitely seen better days. The paint on the exterior was faded, the hallways smelled faintly of salt and age, and some of the balconies on the higher floors had visible rust creeping along their railings. But to Minnie, there was charm in its imperfections. The place had a history, a story to tell, and she found that oddly comforting.
She left the front door slightly ajar as she worked, adjusting picture frames and setting out a few knick-knacks to make the space feel more like home. If someone happened to walk by, perhaps they’d say hello. Not that she was expecting a warm welcome—she had lived most of her life being overlooked, blending into the background. But this move had been a step toward something new, and maybe, just maybe, it would lead to something unexpected.
With a sigh, she brushed a loose strand of chocolate-brown hair from her face and grabbed a stack of books to place on the shelf. Outside, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore drifted in, mingling with the low hum of life in the condo complex. The world continued on, indifferent yet full of possibilities.
He hadn’t been home for over seventy-two hours and was ready to just be in his own space. He thought about cooking in his own kitchen and wearing something other than cargo pants and t-shirts. He grinned a tired grin as he stepped into the lobby of the apartment building. He had picked a room on the first floor so he wouldn’t have to mess with stairs if he got called to respond to an emergency, even on his time off. Though he dreamed about wearing shorts and going out on the beach, he was currently still in his work clothes. Black cargo pants, black boots, and a navy t-shirt with the word FIRE printed on it in bright yellow letters. He had a gym bag hanging from his shoulder with some of the gear he never went anywhere without.
As he made his way down the hall to his apartment – 107, he noticed the door to apartment 106 slightest ajar. This was not the best neighborhood. It used to be a high crime area before the new police chief started cleaning up the streets, but it would be foolish to assume that all the bad apples had left town. With that mind set, he thought that 106 might have been broken into by squatters or vandals. Either way, he set his gym back down in the hallway, against the wall, unzipped it as silently as possible, and pulled out a massive mag light. He held the giant, heavy flashlight close to the bulb part and lifted it over his shoulder, his arm bent at the elbow. He was ready to use the mag light as a weapon to defend himself, or as an actual flashlight should he need it to look around.
Meph was not a small man. He stood at six feet, five inches, and was built like a Viking warrior of old. His hair was blonde and a little disheveled from the strong beach breeze outside. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline and stormy violet-grey eyes. Menacing was a word used for him when people saw him for the first time. He looked like he could crush someone’s head with his large hands. In a confident, commanding voice, he asked, “Hello?” He wasn’t sure if he would get an answer, but he waited for a few seconds just in case someone did open the door.
As he made his way down the hall to his apartment – 107, he noticed the door to apartment 106 slightest ajar. This was not the best neighborhood. It used to be a high crime area before the new police chief started cleaning up the streets, but it would be foolish to assume that all the bad apples had left town. With that mind set, he thought that 106 might have been broken into by squatters or vandals. Either way, he set his gym back down in the hallway, against the wall, unzipped it as silently as possible, and pulled out a massive mag light. He held the giant, heavy flashlight close to the bulb part and lifted it over his shoulder, his arm bent at the elbow. He was ready to use the mag light as a weapon to defend himself, or as an actual flashlight should he need it to look around.
Meph was not a small man. He stood at six feet, five inches, and was built like a Viking warrior of old. His hair was blonde and a little disheveled from the strong beach breeze outside. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline and stormy violet-grey eyes. Menacing was a word used for him when people saw him for the first time. He looked like he could crush someone’s head with his large hands. In a confident, commanding voice, he asked, “Hello?” He wasn’t sure if he would get an answer, but he waited for a few seconds just in case someone did open the door.
Minnie frowned in frustration as she wrestled with the stubborn window latch, her fingers slipping slightly against the old, metal frame. She had hoped to let in some fresh air after a long day of unpacking, but it seemed like the salt from the ocean had rusted away at the hardware years ago, preventing it from opening. With a soft huff, she stepped back, placing her hands on her hips as she studied it, trying to decide if she had the patience to keep trying or if she should just find another way to air the place out.
That was when she heard it—the deep, commanding voice coming from the entrance. Her breath hitched slightly, her body tensing. It wasn’t a voice she recognized, and for a split second, her mind raced with possibilities. Had someone walked in? Was it a neighbor? A landlord checking on something?
She turned on her heel, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face as she quickly crossed the small living space toward the door. Minnie wasn’t exactly intimidating, but she wasn’t helpless either. Still, she regretted not grabbing something—anything—before moving to investigate. Instead, she relied on sheer willpower to keep any nervousness out of her voice as she pulled the door open another inch and peeked out.
Her hazel eyes landed on the man standing in the hallway.
Good lord.
The first thing she noticed was that he was huge. Tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in all black save for the navy shirt stretched across his chest, the word "FIRE" in bold yellow practically shouting at her. He looked like he belonged in one of those calendars that people giggled over in bookstores, but the heavy flashlight gripped in his hand quickly pulled her attention back to the moment.
Minnie’s brows furrowed slightly. Was he... about to hit something? Or someone?
“Uh, hi there...” she started, her voice soft but clear, carrying just the slightest hint of hesitation. “Can I help you?”
That was when she heard it—the deep, commanding voice coming from the entrance. Her breath hitched slightly, her body tensing. It wasn’t a voice she recognized, and for a split second, her mind raced with possibilities. Had someone walked in? Was it a neighbor? A landlord checking on something?
She turned on her heel, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face as she quickly crossed the small living space toward the door. Minnie wasn’t exactly intimidating, but she wasn’t helpless either. Still, she regretted not grabbing something—anything—before moving to investigate. Instead, she relied on sheer willpower to keep any nervousness out of her voice as she pulled the door open another inch and peeked out.
Her hazel eyes landed on the man standing in the hallway.
Good lord.
The first thing she noticed was that he was huge. Tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in all black save for the navy shirt stretched across his chest, the word "FIRE" in bold yellow practically shouting at her. He looked like he belonged in one of those calendars that people giggled over in bookstores, but the heavy flashlight gripped in his hand quickly pulled her attention back to the moment.
Minnie’s brows furrowed slightly. Was he... about to hit something? Or someone?
“Uh, hi there...” she started, her voice soft but clear, carrying just the slightest hint of hesitation. “Can I help you?”
Funny enough, Meph had been in quite a few of those calendars that people giggled over in bookstores - he was usually Mr. December because that was his birthday month. There was a calendar he had actually just posed in with a few members of his crew when they were fighting forest fires on the west coast - check your local bookstore. But most people would never guess he would pose practically nude due to his extreme shyness.
When the door was opened he did a very quick evaluation. Due to the state of the apartment and the way the woman answered the door, it was clear someone had moved in since last he was in his apartment. He brought his arm down swiftly, letting the flashlight land about at his waist as he nervously twisted in his large hands. "My apologies. I'm next door in 107. I didn't realize someone had moved in"
Truth be told, Meph was terrified of women. He was skilled and confident when it came to his profession, but socially he was awkwardness personified. He had manners, though, despite looking like a total caveman. "Welcome to the condos." Trying to think of something to say, he offered, "I'll probably be the quietest neighbor you've ever had." He smiled coyly, continuing to fidget with the with flashlight. "I work really long hours. So, I'll barely be around."
Now that he had gotten himself somewhat engaged in a polite conversation, he had no idea how he should end it. He offered her a very shy smile before saying, "Is there anything you need assistance with?" When in doubt, his mind went into work mode. Offering help was what he knew how to do.
When the door was opened he did a very quick evaluation. Due to the state of the apartment and the way the woman answered the door, it was clear someone had moved in since last he was in his apartment. He brought his arm down swiftly, letting the flashlight land about at his waist as he nervously twisted in his large hands. "My apologies. I'm next door in 107. I didn't realize someone had moved in"
Truth be told, Meph was terrified of women. He was skilled and confident when it came to his profession, but socially he was awkwardness personified. He had manners, though, despite looking like a total caveman. "Welcome to the condos." Trying to think of something to say, he offered, "I'll probably be the quietest neighbor you've ever had." He smiled coyly, continuing to fidget with the with flashlight. "I work really long hours. So, I'll barely be around."
Now that he had gotten himself somewhat engaged in a polite conversation, he had no idea how he should end it. He offered her a very shy smile before saying, "Is there anything you need assistance with?" When in doubt, his mind went into work mode. Offering help was what he knew how to do.
Minnie blinked up at him, taking in both his words and the nervous way he fidgeted with the flashlight. It was almost comical, the contrast between his towering, broad-shouldered frame and the way he seemed almost… shy. If she hadn’t just seen him standing there looking like he could single-handedly wrestle a bear, she might have thought he was just another awkward neighbor trying to make polite conversation.
She wasn’t sure what she would have done if she had ended up next to someone who partied until two in the morning. Her lips curved into a small, warm smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, 107. I’m Minnie.” She leaned lightly against the doorframe, her soft voice carrying a hint of amusement. “And I think I’ll hold you to that promise of being the quietest neighbor ever.”
When he asked if she needed help, she hesitated. Normally, she prided herself on handling things herself, but… It wasn’t like she had much to lose by accepting.
Minnie glanced back at the window with a sigh. “Actually… if you don’t mind, I could use an extra set of hands.” She stepped back and gestured toward the stubborn thing. “It’s rusted shut, and I’d really like to get it open before I start melting in here.”
She tilted her head slightly, watching him curiously. He looked like the kind of man who could probably open it with one hand tied behind his back. But more than that, she was intrigued by how someone who looked like that could be so adorably unsure of himself.
She wasn’t sure what she would have done if she had ended up next to someone who partied until two in the morning. Her lips curved into a small, warm smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, 107. I’m Minnie.” She leaned lightly against the doorframe, her soft voice carrying a hint of amusement. “And I think I’ll hold you to that promise of being the quietest neighbor ever.”
When he asked if she needed help, she hesitated. Normally, she prided herself on handling things herself, but… It wasn’t like she had much to lose by accepting.
Minnie glanced back at the window with a sigh. “Actually… if you don’t mind, I could use an extra set of hands.” She stepped back and gestured toward the stubborn thing. “It’s rusted shut, and I’d really like to get it open before I start melting in here.”
She tilted her head slightly, watching him curiously. He looked like the kind of man who could probably open it with one hand tied behind his back. But more than that, she was intrigued by how someone who looked like that could be so adorably unsure of himself.
When she introduced herself to him he could have smacked himself. Common courtesy should have dictated that he share his name instead of just his apartment number. She leaned on the doorframe and looked at him with amusement in her eyes. He was about to offer his hand in a greeting but thought better of just as he released the flashlight and began to offer it to her. His hands were rough and scarred and not enjoyable at all. To cover up the awkward motion he tucked his hand into the front pocket of his cargo pants. He swallowed hard, trying to look her in the eyes but finding it difficult - he ended up looking at her shoulder.
"Nice to meet you, Minnie. I'm..." He faltered momentarily for his name was not a common one. "Mephistopheles." He added quickly, practically stumbling over his own words, "Meph for short. But you can call me 107, it might be easier." Small talk was not his forte. "And I don't make much noise. I'm around loud alarms and yelling all day so I like quiet." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not sure what to do with himself.
He almost sighed audibly when she offered a task for him to do. He entered her apartment behind her, letting her guide him to the problem window. He offered her a small smile and tried to open it normally. He felt the window starting to give way, but if he used any more force he was likely to break the window pane. He took a step back from the window and looked at her with a look that showed he was thinking. "One moment," he said as he exited her apartment and crouched down by his bag. He pulled out a can of DW40 and went to tackle that window again.
He sprayed the four counters and down the edges of the windows with the lubricant. He placed the can in one of the larger pockets on his thigh and tried to lift the window again. Still a bit too stuck. He then made a fist and punched the top two corners of the windows causing a good amount of rust to flake off and fall onto her clean window sill. He dug the can of DW40 out of his pocket and applied a little more. Another three tries and he had the window moving. It wasn't the easiest thing to open and close, but it would move now.
With the window now open, Meph used his index finger to dig out some more rust that was in-between the tracks that was preventing the window from moving with ease. He then applied a little more DW40 and thought the window should work just fine now. But, now he noticed how much rust was littering her clean window sill and floor. He turned to look at Minnie, "May I get some paper towels, please?"
"Nice to meet you, Minnie. I'm..." He faltered momentarily for his name was not a common one. "Mephistopheles." He added quickly, practically stumbling over his own words, "Meph for short. But you can call me 107, it might be easier." Small talk was not his forte. "And I don't make much noise. I'm around loud alarms and yelling all day so I like quiet." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not sure what to do with himself.
He almost sighed audibly when she offered a task for him to do. He entered her apartment behind her, letting her guide him to the problem window. He offered her a small smile and tried to open it normally. He felt the window starting to give way, but if he used any more force he was likely to break the window pane. He took a step back from the window and looked at her with a look that showed he was thinking. "One moment," he said as he exited her apartment and crouched down by his bag. He pulled out a can of DW40 and went to tackle that window again.
He sprayed the four counters and down the edges of the windows with the lubricant. He placed the can in one of the larger pockets on his thigh and tried to lift the window again. Still a bit too stuck. He then made a fist and punched the top two corners of the windows causing a good amount of rust to flake off and fall onto her clean window sill. He dug the can of DW40 out of his pocket and applied a little more. Another three tries and he had the window moving. It wasn't the easiest thing to open and close, but it would move now.
With the window now open, Meph used his index finger to dig out some more rust that was in-between the tracks that was preventing the window from moving with ease. He then applied a little more DW40 and thought the window should work just fine now. But, now he noticed how much rust was littering her clean window sill and floor. He turned to look at Minnie, "May I get some paper towels, please?"
Minnie’s eyes brightened with interest the moment he said his name. “Mephistopheles?” she repeated, tilting her head slightly. “Like the demon from German folklore?” There was no teasing in her tone, just genuine curiosity. She had always found folklore fascinating, and it wasn’t every day she met someone with such a unique name. “It’s not a name I’ll be forgetting any time soon.”
As he worked on the window, she watched with quiet appreciation, noting the efficiency with which he handled the rusted frame. It was clear he was used to fixing things, and she had to admit, it was nice having someone around who could help with the stubborn bits of her new apartment.
When he turned to ask for paper towels, she shook her head with a small, grateful smile. “Don’t worry about it—I’ll take care of it.” She gestured toward the rust now scattered on the sill and floor. “You already got the hard part done, and I really appreciate it.”
She leaned against the wall, arms loosely crossed, her expression thoughtful. “So, since you like quiet, I guess I should warn you—there might be the occasional opera drifting through the walls.” A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips. “I work at a museum as a curator, and for some reason, opera helps me focus when I’m doing research or restoring pieces. I promise it won’t be too loud, though. I generally like warning people because they find it annoying. I’ll eventually go around and let everyone down here and the upstairs unit know, just in case.”
As he worked on the window, she watched with quiet appreciation, noting the efficiency with which he handled the rusted frame. It was clear he was used to fixing things, and she had to admit, it was nice having someone around who could help with the stubborn bits of her new apartment.
When he turned to ask for paper towels, she shook her head with a small, grateful smile. “Don’t worry about it—I’ll take care of it.” She gestured toward the rust now scattered on the sill and floor. “You already got the hard part done, and I really appreciate it.”
She leaned against the wall, arms loosely crossed, her expression thoughtful. “So, since you like quiet, I guess I should warn you—there might be the occasional opera drifting through the walls.” A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips. “I work at a museum as a curator, and for some reason, opera helps me focus when I’m doing research or restoring pieces. I promise it won’t be too loud, though. I generally like warning people because they find it annoying. I’ll eventually go around and let everyone down here and the upstairs unit know, just in case.”
It wasn't often someone recognized his name. Not many people read Christopher Marlow anymore or studied German folklore. When she repeated his name he offered her a coy smile, "My parents had a twisted sense of humor." He shrugged before getting to work. His parents had named him what they did because they had honestly thought they had given birth to a demon. Why they thought he was a demon at birth was a secret guarded by Meph. He didn't like the stares and reactions that were caused when he didn't hide himself correctly.
When the work was completed he was surprised she didn't want him to clean up the mess he had made. Some people were obsessive about their living space so he didn't insist. She told him no which made him stand and move away from the window, but he couldn't move far. She leaned against the wall and he would need to walk by to get to her door. He hesitated, not moving from his spot and took the moment to look down at his fingers. Some of them were greasy and covered in rust. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted the material to use to wipe the grime off. The lifting of the shirt exposed the contours of his finely toned abdomen and the deep V of his hips.
At the mention of opera he looked up and met her eyes for the first time. A genuine smile touched his lips as he confessed softly to her, "I actually love opera." No one that looked at Meph ever expected him to be as well read and cultured as he was. Most people expected him to be a sports fanatic, which was not the case. In an attempt to be funny he said, "If I start singing too loud, just bang on the wall." Now that they had something in common it was a little easier to talk to her. "What's your favorite?"
When the work was completed he was surprised she didn't want him to clean up the mess he had made. Some people were obsessive about their living space so he didn't insist. She told him no which made him stand and move away from the window, but he couldn't move far. She leaned against the wall and he would need to walk by to get to her door. He hesitated, not moving from his spot and took the moment to look down at his fingers. Some of them were greasy and covered in rust. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted the material to use to wipe the grime off. The lifting of the shirt exposed the contours of his finely toned abdomen and the deep V of his hips.
At the mention of opera he looked up and met her eyes for the first time. A genuine smile touched his lips as he confessed softly to her, "I actually love opera." No one that looked at Meph ever expected him to be as well read and cultured as he was. Most people expected him to be a sports fanatic, which was not the case. In an attempt to be funny he said, "If I start singing too loud, just bang on the wall." Now that they had something in common it was a little easier to talk to her. "What's your favorite?"
Minnie had been about to respond when she caught the movement of his shirt lifting. She instinctively glanced toward the motion, noting the sharp contours of his abdomen and the deep V of his hips before shifting her focus elsewhere, willing her face not to turn red. It wasn’t particularly shocking—he was built like someone who relied on his strength daily—but it was unexpected.
His confession, however, was far more intriguing. Her brows lifted slightly before a pleased smile spread across her lips. “You do?” she asked, genuine delight in her voice. “That’s not something I hear every day.” Most people she met either tolerated opera or dismissed it entirely, thinking it was too dramatic or outdated. It was rare to find someone who genuinely appreciated it, and even rarer to find that appreciation in someone who looked like him.
His joke earned him a playful smirk. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said smoothly, though there was a teasing lilt in her voice.
At his question, she took a moment to think before answering, though the choice wasn’t difficult. “Die Zauberflöte or I Puritani,” she said, her voice warming with enthusiasm. “Die Zauberflöte because it’s whimsical and enchanting—there’s just something about the story that feels timeless. And I Puritani because Bellini knew how to break hearts with a single note. The music is so fluid, so beautifully composed, that you can’t help but feel completely swept up in it.”
She tilted her head slightly, studying him with curiosity. “What about you?”
His confession, however, was far more intriguing. Her brows lifted slightly before a pleased smile spread across her lips. “You do?” she asked, genuine delight in her voice. “That’s not something I hear every day.” Most people she met either tolerated opera or dismissed it entirely, thinking it was too dramatic or outdated. It was rare to find someone who genuinely appreciated it, and even rarer to find that appreciation in someone who looked like him.
His joke earned him a playful smirk. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said smoothly, though there was a teasing lilt in her voice.
At his question, she took a moment to think before answering, though the choice wasn’t difficult. “Die Zauberflöte or I Puritani,” she said, her voice warming with enthusiasm. “Die Zauberflöte because it’s whimsical and enchanting—there’s just something about the story that feels timeless. And I Puritani because Bellini knew how to break hearts with a single note. The music is so fluid, so beautifully composed, that you can’t help but feel completely swept up in it.”
She tilted her head slightly, studying him with curiosity. “What about you?”
He knew he would surprise her and she didn't let him down. It was the same reaction he received when someone found out he was an avid reader or that had once been trained in classical ballet. It was the reason he could move so fluidly and had such complete muscle control. It also helped that he knew how to do lifts when he was rescuing people - he knew where to put his hands so not to cause further injury. But that wasn't something he was about to share. His secrets were his own.
He offered her a warm smile when she started reading off Bellini's work. He was quite familiar as five or the eleven of his opera were still being performed by companies. When she asked about his favorite opera he thought he would be funny again and named probably one of the only operas the majority of the public knew. "Carmina Burana." Pop culture used the opening song 'O Fortuna' from Carmina Burana in everything from commercials to Jackass the Movie for a while in the early 2000s.
He waited to see if she would be absolutely disgusted with his pick. He knew he would judge someone if they said that was their favorite. After a moment he chuckled softly, "I'm only kidding. I've seen it but it's not my favorite." He let himself and hopefully her had a little laugh before he gave her his real opinion. "Ironically, my favorite is Faust." He gave a bashful smile. "I'm also a big fan of Dido and Aeneas by Purcell and Les Troyens by Berlioz." He thought those answers might be more pleasing to her. "I'm a big fan of Berlioz. La Damnation of Faust is one of my favorite works." He thought for a moment before saying, "I think I see a trend in my preferences. Maybe it wasn't a mistake I was named what I was."
He offered her a warm smile when she started reading off Bellini's work. He was quite familiar as five or the eleven of his opera were still being performed by companies. When she asked about his favorite opera he thought he would be funny again and named probably one of the only operas the majority of the public knew. "Carmina Burana." Pop culture used the opening song 'O Fortuna' from Carmina Burana in everything from commercials to Jackass the Movie for a while in the early 2000s.
He waited to see if she would be absolutely disgusted with his pick. He knew he would judge someone if they said that was their favorite. After a moment he chuckled softly, "I'm only kidding. I've seen it but it's not my favorite." He let himself and hopefully her had a little laugh before he gave her his real opinion. "Ironically, my favorite is Faust." He gave a bashful smile. "I'm also a big fan of Dido and Aeneas by Purcell and Les Troyens by Berlioz." He thought those answers might be more pleasing to her. "I'm a big fan of Berlioz. La Damnation of Faust is one of my favorite works." He thought for a moment before saying, "I think I see a trend in my preferences. Maybe it wasn't a mistake I was named what I was."
Minnie raised a brow at his initial answer, her lips curving in a small, knowing smile. Carmina Burana? She had heard it used so many times in pop culture that it was hard to imagine anyone genuinely naming it as their favorite opera. “Really?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. There was no sharpness in her voice, only a gentle teasing. “That’s certainly a… bold choice.”
When he laughed and admitted he was joking, she let out a soft chuckle of her own. “I was about to say, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who actually claims that as their favorite.” But as he listed his real favorites, her expression shifted from playful skepticism to genuine interest. “Faust,” she echoed, her eyes lighting up again. “That does seem rather fitting, doesn’t it?” There was no judgment in her tone, only curiosity.
As he continued, mentioning Dido and Aeneas and Les Troyens, she nodded along, impressed by his taste. “Berlioz is wonderful,” she agreed warmly. “And La Damnation de Faust is such an evocative piece—dark, dramatic, tragic.” A thoughtful pause. “I suppose you could say the name suits you in more ways than one.” Minnie studied him for a moment, her amusement softening into something more thoughtful. “You certainly have a theme,” she mused, tilting her head slightly. “Tragic fates, doomed lovers, grand sacrifices.” There was no mockery in her voice—only curiosity.
She let the words settle between them before adding, “Though, I suppose that’s what makes opera so compelling, isn’t it? The way it lays everything bare—the longing, the loss, the inevitability of it all.” Her gaze flickered toward the window he had just wrestled into working order, then back to him. “I imagine someone with a name like yours would appreciate a bit of grandeur.” Her lips curved into a knowing smile, not unkind but perceptive. “Even if you do prefer the quiet.”
When he laughed and admitted he was joking, she let out a soft chuckle of her own. “I was about to say, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who actually claims that as their favorite.” But as he listed his real favorites, her expression shifted from playful skepticism to genuine interest. “Faust,” she echoed, her eyes lighting up again. “That does seem rather fitting, doesn’t it?” There was no judgment in her tone, only curiosity.
As he continued, mentioning Dido and Aeneas and Les Troyens, she nodded along, impressed by his taste. “Berlioz is wonderful,” she agreed warmly. “And La Damnation de Faust is such an evocative piece—dark, dramatic, tragic.” A thoughtful pause. “I suppose you could say the name suits you in more ways than one.” Minnie studied him for a moment, her amusement softening into something more thoughtful. “You certainly have a theme,” she mused, tilting her head slightly. “Tragic fates, doomed lovers, grand sacrifices.” There was no mockery in her voice—only curiosity.
She let the words settle between them before adding, “Though, I suppose that’s what makes opera so compelling, isn’t it? The way it lays everything bare—the longing, the loss, the inevitability of it all.” Her gaze flickered toward the window he had just wrestled into working order, then back to him. “I imagine someone with a name like yours would appreciate a bit of grandeur.” Her lips curved into a knowing smile, not unkind but perceptive. “Even if you do prefer the quiet.”
If only she knew how completely right she was. It was like she was reciting his past back to him - tragic fates and grand sacrifices were certainly things he had experienced. The idea of a lover was still something unknown to him. His smile faltered once more as he pondered her descriptions of his interests. A sadness touched his eyes and he contemplated the truth of which he was about to share. "Tragedy is sometimes better company than happy endings." He pushed his hands into his front pockets, angling his head down so his eyes broke from hers. "With tragedy you at least know how it will end."
The melancholy of his solitude was starting to weigh on him. It was one of the reasons he didn't talk to many people. As they talked they learned, allowing them to start to peel back the layers and find the scared boy inside the man. As if to save him from himself, Meph's stomach let out a deep growl. His hands pulled out of his pockets and rested on his stomach. He looked from the floor back up to her.
He contemplated what he had at home to cook. The realization he would have to either go to the store or defrost whatever he might have in the freezer. "I think my stomach is telling me it's time to go to the store." he said bashfully. "Can I be of any further service?"
The melancholy of his solitude was starting to weigh on him. It was one of the reasons he didn't talk to many people. As they talked they learned, allowing them to start to peel back the layers and find the scared boy inside the man. As if to save him from himself, Meph's stomach let out a deep growl. His hands pulled out of his pockets and rested on his stomach. He looked from the floor back up to her.
He contemplated what he had at home to cook. The realization he would have to either go to the store or defrost whatever he might have in the freezer. "I think my stomach is telling me it's time to go to the store." he said bashfully. "Can I be of any further service?"
Minnie gave him a wistful smile at his words, the kind that spoke of understanding without the need for further conversation. She did not pry, nor did she offer empty reassurances—only a quiet sort of acknowledgment before the moment passed. When his stomach growled, she blinked in surprise before swiftly righting herself. With an almost startled grace, she stepped away from the entrance and into the kitchen, giving him space to leave. “Oh—I’m sorry for keeping you,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “That's all I really needed, thank you again for the window. It’s nice to have fresh air.”
She hesitated then, her fingers brushing lightly against the counter as she gathered the courage to speak again. “It was—” She paused, then pressed on, her voice softer this time, almost shy. “It was a delight to make your acquaintance, Meph. I hope to see you again.” She turned slightly, her expression open but careful. “And if you ever need conversation—of any kind—I’d be more than happy to sit with you. I can make tea or coffee, whatever you prefer or uh...” She gave him an apologetic smile then shook her head quickly, and with that, she let him out and gently waved goodbye before stepping back toward the door and gently closed it behind him, bolting the lock with a quiet click. For a moment, she lingered there, listening to the stillness he left behind before shaking herself from her thoughts. Turning back toward the window, she set to work cleaning up the rust, sweeping away the remnants of their brief but unexpected meeting.
She hesitated then, her fingers brushing lightly against the counter as she gathered the courage to speak again. “It was—” She paused, then pressed on, her voice softer this time, almost shy. “It was a delight to make your acquaintance, Meph. I hope to see you again.” She turned slightly, her expression open but careful. “And if you ever need conversation—of any kind—I’d be more than happy to sit with you. I can make tea or coffee, whatever you prefer or uh...” She gave him an apologetic smile then shook her head quickly, and with that, she let him out and gently waved goodbye before stepping back toward the door and gently closed it behind him, bolting the lock with a quiet click. For a moment, she lingered there, listening to the stillness he left behind before shaking herself from her thoughts. Turning back toward the window, she set to work cleaning up the rust, sweeping away the remnants of their brief but unexpected meeting.
He nodded as she moved from the entry way and into the kitchen. He hadn't been that anxious to leave but he could tell his invitation into her home was over. He nodded and lowered his eyes to the floor. He offered an awkwardly shy wave and left. He noted how fast the door was closed and bolted behind him. He took in a deep breath and let it out as he shook his head. "Good job, dumbass," he said to himself as he stooped to grab his gun bag from the hall. He tossed the can of WD40 into the bag and took the two steps to his apartment and unlocked the door.
His apartment was dark, blackout curtains hiding the sun. He had no furniture in the living room or dining room area. No lamps. No TV. The only furniture he possessed was a bed in his bedroom, some cooking utensils in the kitchen, and a few personal items in the bathroom.
He dropped his bag by the front door and went to change. He threw his work clothes directly into the washing machine and started it. He then went into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of baggy khaki shorts and a white t-shirt, trading the heavy boots for a ratty pair of running shoes. He tucked his wallet and keys into his pocket and departed his apartment. He was hungry but he was feeling too self-conscious to eat anything. Maybe he would just sit on the beach for a few hours and wonder how he was supposed to make a friend if everyone shut him down so quickly.
His apartment was dark, blackout curtains hiding the sun. He had no furniture in the living room or dining room area. No lamps. No TV. The only furniture he possessed was a bed in his bedroom, some cooking utensils in the kitchen, and a few personal items in the bathroom.
He dropped his bag by the front door and went to change. He threw his work clothes directly into the washing machine and started it. He then went into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of baggy khaki shorts and a white t-shirt, trading the heavy boots for a ratty pair of running shoes. He tucked his wallet and keys into his pocket and departed his apartment. He was hungry but he was feeling too self-conscious to eat anything. Maybe he would just sit on the beach for a few hours and wonder how he was supposed to make a friend if everyone shut him down so quickly.
Minnie stood in her apartment for a moment, the quiet of it settling around her. She looked at the window, still streaked with rust, and felt the stillness of the space press in. After a few minutes, the restlessness began to take hold. She felt antsy, confined by the walls, and the hunger gnawing at her was a reminder that she needed a break. She quickly showered, the warm water helping to loosen the tension in her muscles, and pulled on something light and airy—a simple sundress. Her damp hair was hastily clipped up to keep it out of the way as she grabbed her wallet and apartment keys.
Before she could stop herself, she found her feet carrying her toward the door next to her own. A strange pull made her pause in front of Meph’s apartment, and she wondered briefly if he had eaten, if he was okay. It was a silly thought, perhaps, but one she couldn’t shake. She raised her hand, knocking softly at first, and then a little louder when there was no immediate answer. When no one responded, she stood for a moment, considering. A part of her felt a little silly for even knocking. She gave a small shake of her head before turning and walking toward the stairs, feeling the weight of the moment fall away as she left the building.
The corner store she had noticed earlier greeted her with its familiar hum of activity. She picked up a few snacks—something simple—and made her way to the counter. The cashier smiled at her as she paid, and she couldn’t help but smile back. With her small bag of snacks in hand, she made her way down to the beach, the gentle breeze of the ocean air greeting her as she neared the water. She found a quiet spot to sit, the sand warm beneath her, and took a deep breath, feeling more at ease, the fresh air helped to clear her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to simply exist in the peace of the moment.
Before she could stop herself, she found her feet carrying her toward the door next to her own. A strange pull made her pause in front of Meph’s apartment, and she wondered briefly if he had eaten, if he was okay. It was a silly thought, perhaps, but one she couldn’t shake. She raised her hand, knocking softly at first, and then a little louder when there was no immediate answer. When no one responded, she stood for a moment, considering. A part of her felt a little silly for even knocking. She gave a small shake of her head before turning and walking toward the stairs, feeling the weight of the moment fall away as she left the building.
The corner store she had noticed earlier greeted her with its familiar hum of activity. She picked up a few snacks—something simple—and made her way to the counter. The cashier smiled at her as she paid, and she couldn’t help but smile back. With her small bag of snacks in hand, she made her way down to the beach, the gentle breeze of the ocean air greeting her as she neared the water. She found a quiet spot to sit, the sand warm beneath her, and took a deep breath, feeling more at ease, the fresh air helped to clear her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to simply exist in the peace of the moment.
Anxiety and self-doubt had chased away any signs of hunger in him. The tension twisted his stomach as he tried to understand where he had gone wrong. Rejection, being ignored, being treated like he was nothing - this was all commonplace for him; that wasn't what bothered him. What bothered him was that he normally saw it coming before it happened, that way he could walk away on his terms. This situation blindsided him. Just as that thought passed through his mind he understood how ridiculous he was being.
Instead of thinking about his shortcomings he directed his attention to the ocean. He had missed the healing aspects of the salty waves and air. He approached the line where the water was rushing to shore. He got just close enough for the water to rush over his feet. The water felt cool to his skin but it didn't stop him from wading out until the waves were rushing past his shins.
The ebb and flow of the waves reminded him of what it felt like to row the old ships. Rowing was one of the tasks they had to do that had made him so strong. As he reminisced about a life long since passed, he realized his feet were buried in the sand. He tried to lift one of his feet up, but the suction had a better grip on him than he was expecting. He overcorrected and nearly lost his balance. He managed to stay upright by using his flailing arms to help him.
Instead of thinking about his shortcomings he directed his attention to the ocean. He had missed the healing aspects of the salty waves and air. He approached the line where the water was rushing to shore. He got just close enough for the water to rush over his feet. The water felt cool to his skin but it didn't stop him from wading out until the waves were rushing past his shins.
The ebb and flow of the waves reminded him of what it felt like to row the old ships. Rowing was one of the tasks they had to do that had made him so strong. As he reminisced about a life long since passed, he realized his feet were buried in the sand. He tried to lift one of his feet up, but the suction had a better grip on him than he was expecting. He overcorrected and nearly lost his balance. He managed to stay upright by using his flailing arms to help him.
Minnie let out a small breath as she gazed out at the ocean, the steady rhythm of the waves lulling her into a quiet sort of peace. The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky with soft hues of gold and lavender. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small packet of crackers, absently nibbling as she let herself soak in the serenity of the moment.
It wasn’t long before movement in the shallows caught her eye. At first, she thought it was just another beachgoer wading in the water, but then she recognized the broad shoulders, the familiar posture. Her brows lifted slightly as she realized it was Meph.
She hesitated, debating whether to call out to him. He looked lost in thought, standing knee-deep in the surf. For a moment, she simply watched, taking in the way the ocean seemed to pull at him, as if trying to drag his worries away with each retreating wave.
Then, quite suddenly, he shifted—too sharply. His arms flailed for balance, and Minnie instinctively started to rise, her heart skipping a beat as she expected him to topple face-first into the water. But somehow, he managed to catch himself.
Minnie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a small amused smile tugging at her lips. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and she found herself wondering if he had eaten after all. With the way he had taken off earlier, she doubted it.
Gathering her courage, she finally called out, “Careful, 107. I’d hate to have to fish you out of there.” There was a lightness to her tone, a teasing warmth meant to bridge the small gap of distance between them.
It wasn’t long before movement in the shallows caught her eye. At first, she thought it was just another beachgoer wading in the water, but then she recognized the broad shoulders, the familiar posture. Her brows lifted slightly as she realized it was Meph.
She hesitated, debating whether to call out to him. He looked lost in thought, standing knee-deep in the surf. For a moment, she simply watched, taking in the way the ocean seemed to pull at him, as if trying to drag his worries away with each retreating wave.
Then, quite suddenly, he shifted—too sharply. His arms flailed for balance, and Minnie instinctively started to rise, her heart skipping a beat as she expected him to topple face-first into the water. But somehow, he managed to catch himself.
Minnie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a small amused smile tugging at her lips. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and she found herself wondering if he had eaten after all. With the way he had taken off earlier, she doubted it.
Gathering her courage, she finally called out, “Careful, 107. I’d hate to have to fish you out of there.” There was a lightness to her tone, a teasing warmth meant to bridge the small gap of distance between them.
Meph was a trained warrior and was able to regain control of his body to stop the fall. He did strain some muscles, but it was worth it not to end up flat on his ass or face in the water. After he regained his footing, he still had the job of getting himself unburied in the sand. He had to take a slower approach. It started with his toes wiggling, which lead to trying to move his heels back and forth to loosen the suction, and finally he was able to work first one foot then the other out. Now came the trick of not letting himself get caught again. He had to keep his feet moving away from the area of quicksand he had created.
As he moved away, he heard a voice and looked up. He was a bit shocked to find Minnie standing on the beach calling to him. He swallowed, the nervousness setting back in. She had shut and locked the door so quickly behind him he had assumed he had frightened her in some way. But her tone carried a tease in it, making him unsure how to proceed. As he started walking back to the shore he said, “If you tried to reel me in, you might the one who needs saving.” He didn’t say it or mean it as a threat. It was only after the words were out of his mouth that he realized how they might sound. He continued to walk to shore but made a point not to head directly toward her; he didn’t want her to feel threatened by him.
His eyes stayed on her, watching her as he felt the waves first push him towards shore and then fight to pull him back out inside the water. The muscles of his thighs bulged as the natural power challenged him. “What brought you to the beach?” he asked in the hopes of starting another friendly conversation.
As he moved away, he heard a voice and looked up. He was a bit shocked to find Minnie standing on the beach calling to him. He swallowed, the nervousness setting back in. She had shut and locked the door so quickly behind him he had assumed he had frightened her in some way. But her tone carried a tease in it, making him unsure how to proceed. As he started walking back to the shore he said, “If you tried to reel me in, you might the one who needs saving.” He didn’t say it or mean it as a threat. It was only after the words were out of his mouth that he realized how they might sound. He continued to walk to shore but made a point not to head directly toward her; he didn’t want her to feel threatened by him.
His eyes stayed on her, watching her as he felt the waves first push him towards shore and then fight to pull him back out inside the water. The muscles of his thighs bulged as the natural power challenged him. “What brought you to the beach?” he asked in the hopes of starting another friendly conversation.
Minnie tilted her head slightly at his response, her lips quirking in a small, knowing smile. There was no wariness in her posture, no hesitance in the way she watched him make his way toward the shore. If anything, she looked mildly amused, as if she found some quiet delight in seeing him flounder—even if only for a moment.
“I think I’d manage,” she replied lightly, lifting a single shoulder in a shrug. “Though I suppose I’d have to enlist a few seagulls to help.”
She let the teasing linger between them for a moment before finally answering his question. She glanced out at the ocean, her gaze briefly following the roll of the waves before she turned her attention back to him.
“I was feeling restless,” she admitted, shifting her weight slightly. “Figured some fresh air might help. And I needed to grab a few things from the store, anyway.” She looked at the small bag next to her as proof before adding, with a faint hint of shyness, “I actually knocked on your door before I left. Thought maybe you hadn’t eaten.”
Her fingers curled slightly around the paper handles, almost as if second-guessing whether she should have mentioned it at all. She hadn’t wanted to intrude, but she also hadn’t wanted him to think she was shutting him out completely. The way he had looked at her before he left earlier had lingered in her mind more than she had expected. Minnie lifted the small bag slightly, glancing down at it before looking back up at him. “It’s not much,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Just some crackers, chips, and a few sodas. But if you’d like, you’re welcome to share.”
She wasn’t sure why she felt a bit nervous extending the offer. Maybe because she didn’t want him to think she was offering out of pity. It wasn’t that at all. He’d lingered in her mind since their conversation, and despite how quickly she had bolted the door behind him, she had found herself wishing she hadn’t ended things so abruptly.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the bag’s handles before she gave a small, almost self-conscious laugh. “If nothing else, I could bribe you with a soda after all that wading through quicksand.”
“I think I’d manage,” she replied lightly, lifting a single shoulder in a shrug. “Though I suppose I’d have to enlist a few seagulls to help.”
She let the teasing linger between them for a moment before finally answering his question. She glanced out at the ocean, her gaze briefly following the roll of the waves before she turned her attention back to him.
“I was feeling restless,” she admitted, shifting her weight slightly. “Figured some fresh air might help. And I needed to grab a few things from the store, anyway.” She looked at the small bag next to her as proof before adding, with a faint hint of shyness, “I actually knocked on your door before I left. Thought maybe you hadn’t eaten.”
Her fingers curled slightly around the paper handles, almost as if second-guessing whether she should have mentioned it at all. She hadn’t wanted to intrude, but she also hadn’t wanted him to think she was shutting him out completely. The way he had looked at her before he left earlier had lingered in her mind more than she had expected. Minnie lifted the small bag slightly, glancing down at it before looking back up at him. “It’s not much,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Just some crackers, chips, and a few sodas. But if you’d like, you’re welcome to share.”
She wasn’t sure why she felt a bit nervous extending the offer. Maybe because she didn’t want him to think she was offering out of pity. It wasn’t that at all. He’d lingered in her mind since their conversation, and despite how quickly she had bolted the door behind him, she had found herself wishing she hadn’t ended things so abruptly.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the bag’s handles before she gave a small, almost self-conscious laugh. “If nothing else, I could bribe you with a soda after all that wading through quicksand.”
He raised his eyebrows as a look of disbelief settled on his face. Why would she knock on his door? But she was right, he hadn’t eaten. His mind had become too filled with noise for him to think about being hungry. Meph looked at the small bag she clutched in her hand. Nothing in a bag that small was going to fill a guy his size up, but her offer to share was appreciated. Meph returned the self-conscious smile and said, “You bring the sodas, I’ll get some burgers delivered. Do you have anything you don’t like on a burger?”
Meph pulled out his cell and called a local burger joint that he made a connection with when he helped with a grease fire when he was in there grabbing a bite. Because they didn’t have to call the fire department, they didn’t have to make a claim with their insurance company, which saved them a few thousand a month. They offered Meph free delivery to anywhere in Sunset Beach. “It’s Meph, can get I five burgers delivered to the beach at the second mile marker?” He ordered himself three burgers and her two and a large order of fries for them to split. He was specific with how she wanted her burgers and made the guy repeat the order back perfectly before he hung up. “They should be here in about ten minutes,” he said as he tucked his phone back into his short’s pocket.
Now that they were going to be spending a little more time together, he thought he should address the elephant on the beach. “I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable earlier. I am,” he lowered his eyes and kicked at the sand nervously, “not good with talking to people.” He looked out at the water and saw how the sun was almost touching the surface, throwing the orange, yellows, and reds across the waves. “We might be eating in the dark.” he said as he observed the position of the sun. “I can build us a small fire, if you like?”
Meph pulled out his cell and called a local burger joint that he made a connection with when he helped with a grease fire when he was in there grabbing a bite. Because they didn’t have to call the fire department, they didn’t have to make a claim with their insurance company, which saved them a few thousand a month. They offered Meph free delivery to anywhere in Sunset Beach. “It’s Meph, can get I five burgers delivered to the beach at the second mile marker?” He ordered himself three burgers and her two and a large order of fries for them to split. He was specific with how she wanted her burgers and made the guy repeat the order back perfectly before he hung up. “They should be here in about ten minutes,” he said as he tucked his phone back into his short’s pocket.
Now that they were going to be spending a little more time together, he thought he should address the elephant on the beach. “I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable earlier. I am,” he lowered his eyes and kicked at the sand nervously, “not good with talking to people.” He looked out at the water and saw how the sun was almost touching the surface, throwing the orange, yellows, and reds across the waves. “We might be eating in the dark.” he said as he observed the position of the sun. “I can build us a small fire, if you like?”
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