[Content warnings: Coarse language, innuendo, violence, animal carcasses, demons, vague discussion of parental abuse and reconciliation, light body horror, blood, complicated queer relationships, oblique reference to the Shoah, vague mentions of kidnapping trauma; It is a cute story, but know that going in.]

JeNais was the only one who had the information Aiden needed, and he refused to be intimidated. He would get what he needed at all costs. Even if she was one of the most intimidating people in Ashcroft.

She didn’t like Storybrooke, so Aiden had to go out Ironside to find her. She was alone at a different café, sitting out front quietly while pretending to read a book. It was unnerving the way that she watched the people around her without anyone noticing. But Aiden refused to be intimidated. Even if she was the only person at this place who was hotter than he was.

She was the picture of a Hollywood starlet from decades before Aiden was even born. A leggy woman in tight jeans and a tighter black sweater. JeNais was what Aiden would refer to as ‘artfully stacked’, generally said with a sarcastic smirk and a pair of hands cupped out in front of his chest. She wasn’t actually all that tall for a woman, but she seemed taller. In the way that something threatening always seems bigger than it is. Her hair was fuller than anyone who came from a world where CFCs in hair sprays were banned, and a stark blonde that had to have come from a bottle, albeit in the sixties.

Aiden had seen things far more intimidating than a bombshell. Lace had said it was fine to talk with her, that she was reformed. She was good now. But Aiden was also dating her son, and Lace had a questionable frame of morality itself. Still, it wasn’t going to get any easier, so he took a deep breath and strode up around to sit at her table.

“Hello, Aiden,” her voice was a husky silk, the kind of transatlantic accent it was easy to imagine lasciviously singing to a president. “I was wondering when you’d get up the courage to sit down.”

Aiden’s pulse immediately spiked, and he didn’t imagine it had anything to do with disquiet. He suddenly started looking for exits. Conveniently they were right on the sidewalk. “How did you know I was here?”

JeNais smiled what she had probably hoped would be a reassuring smile. “You’ve been watching me for the last twelve minutes and forty three seconds. Your hair is whiter than mine. People like us stand out.” She looked him up and down in his shabby clothes. They were secondhand, an old ratty Nirvana tee shirt and short shorts. “Even when we don’t want to.”

Aiden consciously shoved down the panic, but didn’t completely put it away. “I was behind you.”

“Oh, that?” JeNais’ perfect ruby lips curled into a smile, “I have eyes in the back of my head.”

“Oh come off it,” Aiden snorted.

“No, really.” She turned around in her chair to face the other direction and parted her hair. There a perfect yellow pupil stared back at Aiden.

A tingle telling him to run ran from the tips of his short velvet covered antler buds down to his little tufted tail. She couldn’t see those, could she? Or was she just calling him gorgeous? Aiden closed his eyes and looked away, going whiter than usual. “Oh.”

JeNais turned back, smiling. “I imagine that everything is acceptable with Lace? If he were in danger, I imagine you’d have been a bit quicker.” She tapped a perfectly manicured finger to her lips, the red nail short. “Ah, trouble in the bedroom, perhaps? It was all working fine last I checked, I can’t really make any modifications after his creation you know, it doesn’t work like that. Or maybe it’s on your end? Should I teach you some tricks?”

There wasn’t much that could make Aiden blush, but she still caused his cheeks to burn. He wondered if it was magic, or just talent. Still, he knew when to take an in when he saw one. “Actually, that is what I wanted to ask you about.”

“Ah?” Her predatory smile deepened, “well, let me finish my coffee and we can go back to my boudoir for...” The look she gave Aiden gave him the impression he was under a jewelers loupe, and had too many flaws. “Training.”

“I, what?” Aiden stumbled, and retreated defensively. “No, you dumb slut. I meant Lace’s birthday.”

JeNais let out a laugh that was genuine, but still sounded like it had been practiced and perfected over the last sixty some odd years. “Birthday? Je nais, I am born, but none of us are birthed.”

“You know what I mean,” Aiden grumbled. Less than a minute and the frustration took the edge off. Not entirely, though. There could be a knife or gun under the table. “When did you, you know, make it.”