If my sister is gonna walk on the dark side of righteousness, I ravish her from home, and take her on a trip to Mom’s old homeland. Brindleton Bay, the city on the sea. More precisely around the harbor, where it smells like fish no matter the time of day or month of the year.

Our first stop is the pub on the wharf, a cozy little place with warm colors and good drinks. It’s the first time Cléo goes to any bar-like place, which makes sense as she’d never be allowed in on her own. Dad wanted to come too, but I was intransigent. This was an experience between sisters.

Not sure I’d ever seen Cléo look more grateful.

The weather sort of sucks when we get there, which is a bit annoying. I’d hoped  Cléo’s first time in the Bay would be perfect. I’d forgotten that my sister is actually a plant. The rain puts a large smile on her face.

I’ve only been here once or twice, on my own — I love my family, but even I need some time alone from the people who’ve surrounded me for decades, and this is my spot. The bartender knows me.

(Actually, the bartender has been trying to talk her son up to me for months. Little does she know, I’m about as interested in starting a relationship as I am in becoming a blue, sparkly skeleton again. Maybe even less.)

Anyway, she winks at my little sister, knowing full well she shouldn’t be in there, and drops two full glasses in front of us.

Sugary drinks, Chantilly and cherries, with a drop of liquor. It’s syrupy, sweet, and the alcohol warms us up — the perfect comfort-drink from the weather outside. And the bar inside is just the right type of warm.

We can barely hear each other over the soothing drumming of raindrops on the roof above, but where there’s a will, there’s a way… And even though the concentration in alcohol is minimal, it’s more than Cléo’s blood has ever known, and she’s feeling talkative.

Some sisterly advice, probably lost on her rebellious mind, but I’m glad we get to bond.