Wakey wakey eggs and backey

Joey woke from a deep, dreamless sleep.

For a moment, something felt… off.

His brain, still half-asleep, tried to piece it together.

Then he smelled it.

“…Bacon?” he mumbled out loud, frowning.

That didn’t make any sense.

He blinked, sat up slowly—and then it all came crashing back.

The road. The tooth. The rhyme.

Cassandra.

A small shiver ran through him.

He looked around his room quickly, half-expecting it all to have been some kind of bizarre dream.

Then he saw it.

Her dress and cape, hanging neatly over the back of the door.

“…Oh,” he said quietly. “So that actually happened.”

Joey scrambled out of bed, ran a hand through his hair, and made a quick detour to the bathroom before heading toward the kitchen.

Sure enough—

Cassandra stood at the stove, still wearing the oversized shirt and shorts he’d given her, finishing up a plate of eggs and bacon. She moved with effortless confidence, like she’d cooked in a thousand kitchens just like this.

Or better.

She glanced over her shoulder as he entered.

“Good morning, Joey.”

“Uh—good morning,” he said, still catching up. “You didn’t have to make breakfast.”

“I know,” she said simply, sliding the food onto a plate. “But consider it a thank-you.”

“For…?”

She turned, leaning lightly against the counter, watching him.

“For not being an idiot last night.”

Joey blinked. “…Oh.”

A faint smirk tugged at her lips.

“Don’t look so surprised. Self-control is rarer than you’d think.”

Joey rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very aware of himself again. “Well… it seemed like the safest option.”

“It was,” she said.

He sat down and started eating—and immediately paused.

“Wow,” he said through a mouthful. “This is really good.”

Cassandra gave a small, satisfied nod. “You don’t survive as long as I have without picking up a few useful skills.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence.

Then Cassandra straightened slightly.

“Alright,” she said. “Serious question.”

Joey looked up mid-bite.

“How are you holding up?”

He blinked.

“Honestly?” he said after a second. “I think I’m still in shock.”

She said nothing—just watched him.

“I mean…” he continued, gesturing vaguely with his fork, “I had a completely awful day at work. I’m walking home, kicking rocks, and now…” He looked at her. “Now I’ve got a vampire—who looks like you—bound to me because of a nursery rhyme.”

He let out a breath.

“I feel scared, excited, lucky, guilty… and like I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do next.”

Cassandra studied him for a moment.

Then she smiled—small, but genuine.

“Better than expected,” she said.

“Really?”

“Oh, absolutely. Most people would’ve already tried to ruin their lives with this kind of power.” She tilted her head. “You’re… pacing yourself.”

“Accidentally,” Joey admitted.

“Still counts.”

She pushed off the counter and walked a slow circle around him, studying him again—this time more critically.

“Posture,” she said suddenly.

Joey blinked. “What?”

“Sit up straighter.”

“…What?”

“Joey.”

He straightened instinctively.

She nodded once. “Better.”

“…Are you coaching me right now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She stopped in front of him, arms crossing loosely.

“Because if I’m bound to you,” she said, “I refuse to spend the foreseeable future attached to someone who slouches, second-guesses himself, and apologizes for existing.”

Joey opened his mouth.

Closed it.

“…Wow.”

“You’re welcome.”

Despite himself, he laughed.

“Okay, fair. But what brought that on?”

Her expression shifted slightly—sharper now.

“You said you had a terrible day at work,” she said. “Why?”

Joey sighed, leaning back—then immediately caught himself and sat upright again.

Cassandra smirked.

“…Crystal,” he said. “My manager. She’s—” He paused. “A nightmare.”

Cassandra’s eyes flickered with interest.

“Go on.”

“She hates me,” Joey continued. “Ever since I corrected her in front of other employees once. Now she gives me the worst shifts, the worst jobs…” He gestured to himself. “She’s the reason I smelled like a grease trap last night. Had me cleaning everything solo. Stuff that’s supposed to take two people.”

Cassandra’s expression didn’t change.

But something in her eyes did.

“Is she incompetent,” she asked calmly, “or just cruel?”

“…Both,” Joey said. “There are rumors she only got the job by… making certain promises to the owner. Then used that to her advantage later.”

Cassandra hummed softly.

“Ah,” she said. “Ambitious. Short-sighted. Predictable.”

Joey gave a small laugh. “You read people fast.”

“I’ve had practice.”

She stepped closer.

“How would you like to fix that?”

Joey frowned slightly. “Fix it… how?”

Her smile returned—but this time, it had teeth.

“We start small,” she said. “Confidence. Presence. The way you speak. The way you carry yourself.” She reached out and adjusted his shoulder slightly. “People like her don’t just target weakness—they rely on it.”

Joey swallowed.

“And if that’s not enough?” he asked.

Her eyes met his.

“Then we escalate.”

There was something in her tone that made his stomach tighten.

“In ways that are… persuasive.”

“Cassandra,” he said carefully, “we’re not going to hurt her, right?”

She tilted her head.

“Define ‘hurt.’”

Joey stared at her.

She smiled—slow, dangerous, but not cruel.

“Relax,” she said. “I’m not interested in tearing her apart.” A pause. “Yet.”

“…Yet doesn’t help.”

She laughed softly.

“No, Joey. What we’re going to do is much more effective.” She leaned in just slightly. “We’re going to take away the things she values most.”

“Like what?”

“Control,” Cassandra said. “Reputation. Credibility.”

She straightened.

“And we’re going to do it in a way where you walk out better than before.”

Joey sat there for a moment.

Processing.

“…Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m listening.”

Cassandra’s smile widened just a fraction.

“Good,” she said. “Because today…”

She tapped the table lightly.

“We start fixing your life.”