“Nyx, Ozzy! Good to see you both out and about!” 

Pouting as he and Nyx step out of the school supply store, a new box of crayons in tow, Ozzy turns to the source of the voice that had called out to them: an old Tonu with laugh lines around his mouth and a craggy stub where his horn used to be. Instinctively, Ozzy clutches his plushie closer to himself, more out of shyness than fear—he knows this old man well; he’s at the house often enough, after all: their landlord, Torgos Hornelius III.

“Hi, Mr. Hornelius,” Nyx greets. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, just picking up a gift for my niece,” he says. “Her birthday is coming up, but I’ve no idea what to get for her. My wife was always much better at picking out presents than I was.” A long sigh huffs out of Mr. Hornelius’s nose, and Ozzy shies away from it. “I’m sure I’ll find something, though… ah, well. Perhaps I’ll try again tomorrow. It’s close to supper time, and I’m famished.” 

Just then, Ozzy's stomach growls—loudly. His eyes widen, but then he curls over himself, clutching the Paint Brush Plushie to his tummy as though that will retroactively muffle its hungry roar. How embarrassing!

Mr. Hornelius’s bushy eyebrows rise. “My, my! Sounds like someone else is hungry, too. Come, you two; I’ve just had a chat with Hubert and he’s got some new hot dog flavours he’s dying to try out. My treat.”

Nyx holds up a hand. “Oh, no, that’s okay, you don’t have to—we were going to go see the Soup Faerie again—”

“Nonsense! It would be my pleasure to have a hot dog with the two of you.”

A wavering smile comes over Nyx’s lips, and she rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. “Then I guess we’ll have to take you up on that. What do you say, Ozzy?”

Despite the embarrassment still burning hot beneath his fur, Ozzy nods. A hot dog really does sound good right about now…

The smell of grilling meat and mustard wafts over to Ozzy as they approach Hubert’s Hot Dogs. His stomach growls again, another embarrassing reminder of just how hungry he is. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for them to order or get their food, and the three of them quickly settle in to eat. 

“Hold on!” Mr. Hornelius says, just as Nyx is about to take her first bite. She pauses, mouth still open, and Ozzy giggles, but Mr. Hornelius isn’t joking around. He holds up one finger to stall them both, rummaging in his pocket for something. 

That something turns out to be a camera.

“Let’s take a picture to commemorate a wonderful day,” Mr. Hornelius says, and Nyx’s mouth finally closes into a smile.

“Oh, all right,” she says. “Come here, Ozzy.” 

She puts an arm around him, and Ozzy leans into her, trying to balance his hot dog in one hand and his plushie in the other. He nearly drops them both in the process, and then nearly loses his balance again when the camera’s flash goes off, and both of those instances of clumsiness somehow, miraculously show in the picture—

But he’s still smiling in it.

“What a perfect picture,” Mr. Hornelius says, admiring the photograph in his hands. He passes it over to Nyx, and she smiles down at it too.

“Yeah… it is, isn’t it?”

“Until…”

They part with Mr. Hornelius after finishing their food, Ozzy wrapping the handle of his paint brush plushie up in a napkin to make sure he doesn’t get any grease stains on it. The doors to the post office swing open and Nyx confidently strides in, greeting the old Chia at the counter. 

Benjamin Stampley smiles at the sight of her. “Hello, Nyx! And young Oizys, too. What can I do for you today?”

“He goes by Ozzy now, most of the time,” Nyx says with a smile, and Ozzy is grateful that she corrected Old Man Stampley so he didn’t have to. “And we’re here to pick up some mail I missed yesterday. Mr. Hornelius told me someone came by to deliver it special, but since I was working a little later than usual at the Toy Shop, I missed it.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Mr. Stampley says, turning to shuffle through the various filing boxes behind him. “It seemed important. Had its own special courier and everything; it was nice to catch up with that one mail carrier from the Space Station… Marilia, I think her name is. Lovely Grundo, most dedicated post-worker you’ll ever meet, but almost never gets any time away…”

Suddenly, Nyx goes tense. Something in her posture and expression changes, even though she hasn’t moved a single muscle other than to flex her hands on the countertop. It makes Ozzy nervous. 

“Ah, here it is!” The old Chia turns back and passes Nyx a letter—an envelope with a big, red, stylised ‘V’ on it. 

Nyx lets out a sudden breath. “Th-thank you,” she says, smiling. She accepts the letter and tucks it into her bag to read later. “Really. I appreciate it, Ben.”

“Oh, I’m just doing my job.” The old man bows his head. “Ah! Speaking of which, come by if you’d like to pick up another shift. We’re a little short-staffed right now, since our usual carrier’s been off with a bad case of Itchy Scratchies.”

Nyx takes Ozzy’s hand in one of her own, while she waves at Old Man Benjamin Stampley with the other. “Will do. Thanks again!”

The doors shut behind them, and Nyx lets out a breath. “Well! That’s all taken care of. What do you say we head home now?” she says, bright and cheerful even though she still seems a little frazzled.

“What’s in the letter?” Ozzy asks. 

Nyx’s smile falters, but just for a blink. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing… But hey, didn’t you say you were going to finish your drawing tonight?”

“That’s right!” Ozzy gasps. He reaches for Nyx’s arm and tugs on it heartily. “Come on, Nyxie, let’s go home! I want to finish it before bedtime!”