Breakfast, Boners, and a Banshee

LOCATION: HARROW HOUSE – THE DINING HALL OF EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

Gideon came down the stairs like a man walking into his own execution. Because technically, he was. Alar at the head of the table. Seraphine sipping tea with the same smile she used before disowning people.

Then the door creaked again.

Vivienne walked in. Barefoot. Wearing an oversized robe that might have been his. Hair flawless. Confidence set to maximum.

She smiled sweetly at the room.

"Hi! I'm Vivienne. Gideon's girlfriend."

Gideon choked. Audibly. On nothing. Just the raw power of embarrassment.

Seraphine raised a perfectly plucked brow. "Girlfriend?"

"Nope," Gideon wheezed. "Not—she's not—she's just—not that."

Vivienne took the seat beside him. Leaned in.

"You want me to say I'm your mistress instead?" she whispered.

He almost died on his toast.

Alar said nothing. Just stared.

Vivienne smiled at him. "Love the robe. Vintage death cult vibes."

Alar blinked. Once.

Seraphine, swirling her tea, finally said, "Well. At least you're good at something, Gideon."

He stared at his plate. Wished it would swallow him.

Vivienne just winked.

Seraphine leaned forward, voice perfectly polite and dripping with curiosity. "So tell me, Vivienne. Where exactly did you two meet?"

Vivienne smiled. "A dark place. Bit dusty. Lots of soul-crushing energy. It was... magical."

Seraphine tilted her head. "Sounds like a vault."

"Close," Vivienne said with a grin. "Basement, actually. He let me out. So brave."

Gideon buried his face in his hands.

"So brave indeed," Seraphine echoed, smirking. "And here I thought he couldn't even open a locked door without tripping over his own sarcasm."

"Oh, he tripped," Vivienne said. "Just not over sarcasm."

Gideon groaned.

Alar finally spoke. "You're... unique."

Vivienne looked at him. Just looked. Calm. Casual.

"So are you."

A silence followed that had weight. Like the house itself was listening.

Seraphine set down her teacup. "Vivienne, dear. What are you exactly?"

Vivienne sipped from Gideon's juice glass without asking.

"Depends on the day. Today, I'm charming."

Seraphine blinked slowly. "Clearly. And you've chosen Gideon, of all the available oxygen thieves?"

Vivienne laughed, full and wicked. "What can I say? I have a thing for broken projects."

Alar actually made a sound. A grunt that might have been amusement. Or constipation.

Gideon finally muttered, "I hate all of you."

Seraphine patted his hand like he was five. "That's nice, dear."

Vivienne stole a piece of toast from his plate. He didn't stop her. Mostly because he was too busy dying inside.

Alar cleared his throat — the kind of sound that could silence riots.

"Gideon," he said, calm and commanding, "you're going ghost hunting today."

Gideon froze mid-sip of juice. "Me? Again? Already? Didn't we just have breakfast?"

"See it as part of your training," Alar replied. "Or a consequence of bringing chaos to the table."

"I vote we blame Vivienne," Gideon muttered.

Vivienne grinned. "He's just mad I took the good toast."

Gideon groaned and dropped his head to the table.

---

POST-BREAKFAST: THE LEDGER'S WRATH

Gideon stomped into the hall. The Ledger floated behind him, spinning like it needed anger management.

> "Girlfriend?! Girlfriend?!"

"She said it, not me!"

> "AND YOU LET HER SIT WITH THE FAMILY."

"You try stopping her! She doesn't listen to physics!"

Vivienne glided up behind them. Still smug.

"We going ghost hunting today, boys?"

> "No."

"Please?"

> "Absolutely not."

Gideon muttered, "You're staying here. That ghost yesterday almost turned me into pudding."

Vivienne stepped closer. Real close.

She leaned into his ear.

"You let me tag along," she whispered, sultry and deadly, "and I'll pretend I didn't notice the boner you had this morning."

Gideon flushed purple.

> "Permission granted. Bring her."

"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY SUPPORT."

---

LOCATION: OLD MOURNING HALL – HAUNTED, OBVIOUSLY

The trio stood in front of a collapsing music hall that smelled like regret and burnt violins.

Inside? Cold. Dusty. Haunted.

Real haunted.

The spirit shrieked from the stage, all foggy limbs and rage. A real banshee type. Loved screaming. Hated boundaries.

Gideon stepped forward.

Drew his chalk.

"Okay. No big deal. Seal the soul. Balance the debt. Don't pee myself."

> "You forgot 'don't embarrass the entire Harrow line again.'"

He drew the first glyph.

The ghost attacked.

He threw a seal. It dissolved like paper in soup.

Vivienne sighed. "Men."

She stepped in. Hands glowing. Hair dramatic.

She danced toward the ghost. Not literally, but it felt like a dance. Every step was confident. Every move deliberate.

She reached out.

Touched the ghost.

It howled.

It shrank.

It disappeared. Into her. Like a whisper swallowed by a storm.

Gideon stumbled back.

> "That was not regulation."

"What did you just do?!" he asked, staring.

Vivienne turned. Eyes glowing faintly. She licked her lips.

"She was loud. I turned her down."

Gideon just stared. The Ledger fluttered.

> "Okay, I'll say it. That was kind of hot."

Vivienne smiled at Gideon. Touched his chest lightly.

"You're fun when you panic."

---

LOCATION: CARRIAGE BACK TO HARROW HOUSE

Gideon slumped in the seat.

Vivienne laid across from him like a queen who accidentally took over a castle.

> "That ghost wasn't in the accounts," the Ledger finally said.

Gideon raised a brow. "What, again?"

> "She absorbed it. I don't know what that means. I don't like not knowing things."

Vivienne stretched.

"Don't worry, Ledger. I'm full of surprises."

> "...I hate surprises."

Gideon sighed.

Vivienne smiled sweetly at him.

"You know you love this."

He groaned and the carriage rolled on.