Pistols and Tea Leaves

"Godric! Leaves! I need more tea leaves, Godric!"

"Wrong name, mate!"

"ER...what is your name, mate?"

"It's Edwin."

There was a scoff and huff of both disappointment and sympathy. "I am so sorry, Eddy."

"Edwin."

"Right, well, Edwin...what can we get for you, today?"

"You were the one asking for more tea leaves, you medical accident."

"Excuse me..."

A worried young woman stood at the counter, looking at the twins with horrified inquiry. "Are you two this mean to everyone?"

"Oh, doll, no. We're brothers. This is Frederick. He's the sort of lad that you would use as a blueprint to build an idiot. I am Edwin—"

"About that, Eddy... As an outsider, what do you think of the human race?"

"You dolt, when we close up shoppe, I'm gonna slice you up so sma—"

"No, no! I'll...I'll just leave."

"You lost us another one, you dolt!"

"Well, it's not exactly my fault that you keep throwing insults at me, every two seconds!"

Edwin's finger was on the trigger and the gun was up in the air before he took his next breath; if someone had entered at that moment, they would have thought that it was a double-image, or possibly a mirror. Each boy had a black pistol pointed at their temple, fingerless-black gloves keeping their hands surprisingly warm. They both had black hair and blue eyes, although Edwin's were a shade on the lemony-green side, and both stood relatively close to six feet tall. Very few could tell the difference between the brothers, but they had no difficulty at all, with that task.

"Godric! Alexx! Come out back; we've got business."

The duo quickly sheathed their weapons, not bothering with the safety; you weren't a real man unless you'd been shot in the foot spontaneously by your own gun at some point or other. A final glare was shot between the brothers before they simultaneously turned and walked toward the back of the shoppe; they usually had their fits when no one else was in the large shack, but there were those small occasions. Such as this day, in particular.

"Why do you two always call me that, anyway? Godric? It makes me sound like I'm from Medieval Ages and I've just been dubbed to knighthood every time."

"Dude, you're a magician."

"Wizard; there is a difference."

"Eh, whatever you say, mon frère."

"But, seriously. Why do you call me that?"

Bob pitched in, swiping the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead with a sigh. "You kind of are like a knight; like Arthur. Or, better yet, Merlin. No, you're the modern-day-Merlin, minus the king as a best friend."

"And the luxury and the training and the knighthood and the—"

"Yeah, yeah, we've got it, half-baked baboon," pitched Frederick with a slight smile, which was quick to disappear at Bob's correction.

"I believe the term you were going for, there, was 'buffoon,' Alexx."

"Shut up."

A click, quickly followed by the sound of ignition, caught the two's attention. Edwin, back to his old habits, again, had lit a cigarette. "That's disgusting," his brother offered with a sneer, pulling the collar of his shirt up to his nose and coughing for good measure. "Do you know how many people die from that crap every year?"

"Yeah? And you're point? I'm not going to die from smoking, 'Drick. As you said, I'm a wizard of many talents."

"No, I called you a magician."

"Illusionist might be a more proper word for the situation," Bob intervened, once again, but was all too rushed to shut his trap by the glare he received from the twins.

"It won't hurt me; I'm basically immortal, and I'm pretty much forever in this form. Don't give me anything on me being unhealthy."

"Yeah, well, you might not die from first-hand, but you're certainly putting your dearest brother and only other friend at risk of second-hand!"

A sigh and a quick step later, the cigarette had been crushed beneath the toe of the man's steel-clad boot. "All right, no smokes around you two, then. What was it that you wanted, Bob?"

"Right—we got more tea leaves, and I think we got a little more than anticipated. You know how our income has been slowly decreasing and all..."

"Freddy likes to keep things chipper and happy; don't depress him now." Edwin's lips ached for the feel of the paper he had recently tossed to the cobble stone alleyway, but he would refrain. For his brother.

Thunder clapped overhead, and a single rain drop landed on the blonde's nose, causing him to jump. "Relax, Bob. It's just a little water; nothing holy, you little vampire. Let's just get these crates inside before they get wet and mold."

The group worked quickly, taking turns manning the register whenever a customer would appear under the eaves; the warmth of the building and shelter from the rain was just too tempting for some of them. This was Edwin's favourite weather: for one, it brought in more customers during the first ten minutes than would on a sunny day in two hours, and it was kinder on the eyes. Frederick, however, despite having such a cold-hearted and emotionless second-job, was quite the opposite of his brother, but liked the attention that their little shoppe got during the time, nonetheless.

"I think I'm going to sign out and head back to the flat," Edwin announce around four-thirty, fingers flirting with the chain that hung around his neck; whatever it supported was hidden beneath his white t-shirt and maroon letterman. He hadn't worn the jacket since his first year at uni, but he figured that, since it still fit, he ought to sport the coat a little more often.

Frederick's head appeared in the window that separated the small kitchen from the serving area and nodded, pointing a kettle of cold water at his brother. "Put in the right time, mate! I'm tired of you getting full pay for when you leave early."

"Whatever," the 'wizard' retorted over his shoulder as his fingers flew over the keyboard of the computer next to the register.

"Don't burn anything!" he warned the two as he stepped out the door, buttoning up his jacket as he splashed down the walk to the flat he'd bought separately from his brother two years previous. He was considered the 'bad boy' type, by some, but was hardly thus. Sure, he was a little more rebellious than his brother and Bob, but he had his quirks. Even his only tattoo, small black cursive letters on the inside of his wrist, was a little bit silly. "Stay your tongue," it read. He never listened to his wrist, but he thought of it as both ironic and funny.

Once the flat was in sight, he slowed, enjoying the pitter-patter of the rain battering gently against the roofs of cars and shingling of buildings nearby; not all of the shoppes in the town, like the Not-So-Secret, had flat tops. They were singled and an angling style that formed upside-down v-shaped eaves that gathered the water and recycled it into the water purifying machine that some people had installed.

There was no need to bother with a key as Edwin magically unlocked the front door to his small, makeshift home, pushing the wooden slab aside with another long breath. "Kippa?"

A very suave Turkish Angora bounded into the room, mewling with hellos. She rubbed up against his leg, her white coat coaxing his dark-wash jeans, her gentle voice echoing through the narrow hallway as the Maine Coon quickly joined the welcoming committee. "Move, Mitis," Edwin commanded, gently swatting his foot at the large male.

Mitis Gigas, or Gentle Giant, bore a golden and white tuxedo pattern on his silky coat, his creamy tail flopping from side to side as it waved behind him in the air, delicate paws tapping at the wooden floors in a small sort of dance that he did when excited.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm home. Now let me get out of the foyer, and I'll turn on the tub with some catnip. Does that sound good?" The two felines probably understood only two words in that sentence, being 'tub' and 'catnip,' but were meowing and they dodged his feet and tossing their coats as they made their way into the bathroom.

Edwin had decided to live in a flat, rather than an actual house, when he'd first moved to Canada. He had always been relatively uncomfortable with the building he'd grown up in and, often times, while growing up, found that he preferred the city-life whenever him and his brother had gone to visit their father in the city back in London.

Kippa leaped onto a stool in the kitchen and instantly began to prowl the countertops while her better half remained on the wooden chair. They were both anxious to splash in the bath.

With a sigh of defeat, the human collapsed under the pressure of the green and blue-eyed gazes set on the back of his neck when trying to ignore their staring. "Fine. Of course you know those dumb words, but nothing else." He set to it, completing the task without, remarkably, getting soaked by the splashing kitties in the tub. It truly was a sight, but it was what the cats enjoyed doing, thank goodness; there was a reason he'd chosen those two breeds.

"Birds are flying over Europe's skies,
Please tell me, why ca—"

"Frederick, please, I just got home. This had better be impor—"

"Edwin? I'm sorry, but you have to get back here. Now." The man paused his pace toward the linen closet and couldn't help but ponder on his initial thought about the name his brother had just called him. He'd remembered his actual name, not some phony 'code name' that he'd come up with to make him seem cooler and more 'realistic' as a wizard.

This meant something truly was wrong.