Jackaby's Accidental Home for Tragic and Nefarious Fellows

4/4 things can fall into place

Jackaby was not having a very good day at all. Considering he often did not entirely have the best time most of the time as there was just so many things happening all at once that were less than the most fun things in the world. He'd planned to get at least a nap that night but instead he was called on around 2am because somebody happened to decide that was the perfect time to get publically mauled by something with wings. There was, in fact, nothing with wings apart from a perfectly ordinary bat that just happened to have gotten close enough to start a brief vampire scare, which made things slightly harder to settle down the MUNDUS NONSTER crowd of frankly dreadful people that decided this was the perfect chance to swarm en masse to share their ludicrous propaganda points. They could have almost had a point if the Seer did not readily prove that not only was there no inhuman causes for the murder, but also that there was no murder at all. 
That said it did get very close to there being a murder once he revealed that the whole thing was a publicity stunt to try and demonise the citizens that weren't human. But Jackaby had a surprising amount of luck when it came to only getting very close to being murdered without actually getting murdered. It did help that he had not taken out a little pouch of stun spores in one of his pockets that he managed to distribute upon them so he could get away with nothing more significant than a bloody lip. Poor formerly-agent-now-officer Kit had almost been able to have a normal day before he was sent out to drag the offenders to brood in a cage for a while, and worse, the poor man had to deal with Jackaby's ranting about the ridiculous rashness of the uninformed and their readiness to cry monster so they could justify attacking anything they didn't understand so they did not have to have their ignorance challenged.

So, even with the sunlight streaming its cheery patterns across the city, Jackaby was not in the best of moods when he trudged his way back to his house, the edge of a headache just beginning to tug at his temples and his injured bottom lip throbbing uncomfortably. 

It was with this frankly unfair reminder that he had the weight of worlds resting upon his shoulders that he practically flung himself inside. Even when he was not feeling his best he still had a sort of twitchy manic energy about him, in fact if the notes that Abigail made and shared with Charlie were to be believed, the worse he was feeling the more twitchy and manic he would get, pacing and moving about until one final inconvenience sent him to a total collapse for a while. Abigail only had the misfortune of dealing with when it got that bad once, but Hank Hudson, who knew him for a lot longer, had told her it used to happen a lot more often when they were younger.

In the mood he was in, one would have to forgive him for just wanting to make himself a nice cup of tea, retreat away to his workspace and do something marvelously repetitive and intricate enough to keep himself occupied for a while. But he barely got beyond the entrance and into the lounge room before he found himself needing to do things again. Or still, technically, as he hadn't really had the chance to stop doing things enough to restart them.

Thistle had perched himself upon the lightly scorched table that had once been a church pew before being very thoroughly repurposed, looking very intently at whatever it was he was working on in that moment. It was nice to see that he was doing things, as there had been a time where it had seemed impossible, but it had gotten to the point where he had managed to develop exactly two new desires. The first was a small one, but that was okay because the first one was always going to be a bit weird and tricky to develop, and had happened quite by accident. He'd taken a sip from Jackaby's teacup by mistake and promptly declared to all present that he wanted to only ever drink good tea from that moment on. The second was more abstract, though largely more wholesome. It was that he wanted to earn his place among the others in the house.

As he worked, the elf was busy mouthing something silently, though it was clear that it was a spell from the way he shined, glowing with the light that he drew inwards and out to what he was working on. Jackaby had been content to leave him to his work, but unfortunately he had the eyes of the Mad Mage upon him a moment before he's planned to move off on his way again. Tragically, his gaze landed directly upon the Seer's bloody lip and bruised jaw, two things that he had intended to sneak off and treat before anyone saw him.