Demons and Diners

Tales and Traditions (Epilogue)

Phil had flat out refused to tell me what happened, leaving on the excuse that he had a few things to take care of, but PJ filled me in afterward (note to self, he really is shit at keeping secrets) - he'd gone to settle things with Elizabeth, but she refused to just take the money he offered and leave the diner alone. She'd attacked him first, and he, as PJ put it, "did what he had to do." I didn't request any elaboration on that one.

When a text from Chris informed me there'd be a party later in the week to 'celebrate', I had immediately run off to find Phil.

"Phil," I'd already tried his office, where I assumed he'd be if he had 'things to take care of', but the room was dark and empty. So I backtracked to his room, where I'm currently standing and knocking. And Phil isn't answering.

Before I can allow myself to think too hard, I turn the handle and push the door open. Phil's lying, in human form now, on his bed, and he eyes me suspiciously; the question I was about to ask dies in my throat.

"I never gave you permission to come in here," he says bluntly, and I duck my head.

"Sorry, I just, I couldn't find you and I was worried because Chris said you're throwing a party but you said you hate parties and I just wanted to make sure you were okay and-" Phil holds up a hand, so I stop abruptly.

"No, I have never given you permission to open my door, and yet this is the third - fourth? No, third - time that you've come in. I need to work on the sentience of the magic I instilled in those things," this part he mutters to himself, staring past me, and I jump when the door slams shut of its own accord. Then Phil chuckles, and it jogs my memory.

"Why, though?" I ask, and his grin sobers to a half-smile.

"It wasn't my idea, but PJ was right about it. We need something to come together, after Elizabeth tormented my staff at the anniversary party. And they all love a good party," his voice drips with sarcasm, and I huff a laugh. His eyes shift, then, like he's remembering something, and he takes a deep breath. "Her death is not something to celebrate," his voice is low, detached, and I move to sit on the bed beside him.

"Life's too short to waste time being unhappy," I offer, though it occurs to me half a second later that his life is not so short - hell, he might be immortal for all I know. I can tell he's read my thoughts when he chuckles and pulls me into his chest.

"Perhaps not short, but you're right. Besides, I have quite a few reasons to be happy," he presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I can't help the small smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

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The remainder of the week is uneventful, and I'm surprised to find I'm actually a little excited for the party this evening. I'd even gone with Chris ahead of time to Ollie's, and left with a suit. I'd protested at first, but Chris had insisted - and even left with a tuxedo, so it did seem that the attire for the night would be more formal than the original anniversary party.

I'm just finishing clearing a table, the last before we close, when the shift manager beckons me over. It's the woman with the iridescent skin, Jemma, from the night of the explosion - I've since learned that she takes over when both PJ and Chris are in demand, as they are tonight.

"Hey, Dan, you're off for the evening - I'll finish up, but PJ said you should stop by his room before you go to the party?" I nod, though I'm unsure why he'd want me to stop by, and toss a quick 'see you later' over my shoulder as I make my way to my room.

I check the time once I'm in my room, pleased that I'm not yet running late, and go take a quick shower - though it is a force of willpower to get out of the hot stream of water the moment I'm finished. I grumble against the chill of the air against my flushed skin, rushing back to my room, and quickly get dressed. I hadn't been a fan of the pattern on my dress shirt at first, but I trusted Ollie's judgment. Now, in the mirror, I'm second-guessing myself. I stare for a long moment, analyzing every aspect of the man looking back at me, before a buzz from my bed startles me out of my trance.