Bane

December 31, 1979

Clayton's face turned pale, and from his pallor, varying shades of red until his face was crimson. "How?"

"I'm pretty sure you know how."

"Boy."

"Dad..."

Clayton took a deep breath, and exhaled, his face cooling to its normal color. "Okay, this isn't a bad thing. A little sooner than we hoped, right? How did you manage - when did you manage?"

"You know that weekend you took David to see Grandpa? Well. Starting there... and uh. We didn't stop."

"This definitely puts a speed on things." Clayton dug his hands into his pockets. "...but, uh... I planned on giving you something for tonight, anyway."

"Is that something a whoopin'?"

Clayton looked grim, but he laughed out loud. Louder than Jonathan would have preferred. "No, boy. You did your schooling. All the waiting was for her to graduate. It wouldn't be the first time someone in The Order did this. I'd have preferred you waited... but I understand."

"You do?"

"I didn't exactly wait."

"I don't want to know about you and mom, please."

Clayton drew his left hand from his pocket, and scratched at the back of his collar. "No... maybe a year or two before your mom. I'll spare you any details. For now."

"We're were going to tell after Christmas formal."

"You'll do no such thing. We need to get on damage control. You two will go to the dance tonight. When you pick Nadjia up, you're going to propose in front of Nida, and Amir."

"Alone?"

"Ain't nobody else went and put a baby on her oven but you, boy. Man up. You did your schoolin', and she's done hers."

"She has a year left."

"I don't see that working out in her favor, do you? You'll propose, she'll accept, Nida and Amir will graciously accept, I'll make sure of that, and then Nadjia will have to homeschool the minute she starts showing."

"Are you mad at me?"

"I'm surprised."

"Are you?"

"At the whole late part. I'm not saying I'm okay with your proclivities, but you do understand there's such a thing as contraception. For a reason."

"Keep it down, dad. Please."

Clayton began picking through the tuxedos again. "Three suits. Two for wear, one for funerals... and this. Clayton drew a tuxedo from the rack. It was black, and the coat was cut long, and straight.

"That looks like something you'd see a gambler wear in a western."

"You'll look perfect. You'll need a black shirt, an a red tie."

"That's pretty grim look."

"No, son. It's very Walker. It's bold. In a dance full of adolescent penguins, you'll be the only one who stands out."

"I don't know if that's a good thing."

"You'll see." Clayton drew his right hand out of his pocket, and with it a small box. "In this box is your great grandmother's wedding ring."

"Isn't that mom's?"

"Yours now. Rather. Nadjia's. You'll arrive early. Do exactly as I instructed. Then go on with your evening, and we'll let your mom, Nida, and Nadjia start planning."