“Morrow got fairied,” I told Kanesha the next day.

She laughed. “Oh dear. Not…”

“The one I had a prank war with. That I won.”

“And he doesn’t believe in fairies.”

“Except the kind he doesn’t like.” I was really firm in my opinion that Morrow was the real bigot.

“Kind who doesn’t like?” Mike, coming back in in his uniform and sporting a shiner.

“Morrow. He’s as bigoted as he accuses others of being. I really hope the other guy’s worse off.”

“The other guy’s being fitted for an orange jumpsuit,” Mike said, cheerfully. “But he popped one off on me while Warwick was trying to get him cuffed.”

“Is Warwick okay?” I asked, reaching into the fridge for a can of soda and offering it to Mike.

“He missed him.”

I rolled my eyes. “I won’t ask what the guy did that he felt it necessary to up the ante by punching a cop. He’s lucky you didn’t shoot him.”

“So, what happened to Morrow?”

I told him while I pulled out the salad we’d made earlier and started adding the chicken to it.

He laughed. “Oh dear. He’ll be constantly stumped trying to come up with rational explanations. He’s a total Scully.”

Kanesha raised an eyebrow. “Scully?”

“Before your time.” A pause. “Should watch it some time. Just not the last season. The last season jumped a school of sharks.”

I wasn’t sure what he was talking about either, beyond some old TV show, but I got the point. Whoever or whatever Scully was, they had certain things in common with Morrow. Like not believing in fairies.

“As long as he never works out I had anything to do with it. I mean, I didn’t deliberately set it on him, but…”

“…but you probably attracted it to him. They seem to like you,” Mike noted.

“There are worse things,” I mused. “Have some salad.”

I thought I wouldn’t have to worry as much about Morrow now.

I was, of course, wrong.