Mister Landcaster was a big, gregarious man with a voice like a foghorn and a personality to match. When an almost-hyperventilating Emily asked him if they needed help, he took one look at her, then eyed Teddy, who was swimming in her new hoodie, before he barked a laugh. “Girl! We always need the help!”

Emily and Teddy were ushered to the back rooms where a few other volunteers were setting things up. Mister Landcaster decided that she was too pretty and that Teddy was too young to be out and about with the ruffians, so they were set to doing the dishes in the back.

Emily expected Teddy to complain, but the girl took to drying with gusto. “I’m going to do my part to help my comrades,” was all she had to say on the matter.

She chose not to look the gift bear in the mouth.

Doing the dishes was . . . surprisingly cathartic. The back rooms for the soup kitchen were a bit dingy, with old, cracked tiles. The water had to be stopped every few minutes so that the hot water tanks at the back could warm up a bit more, but it was all impeccably clean, and the place smelled like her kitchen back home when her mom had another cooking show phase.

The other volunteers chatted among themselves a bit, but they didn’t force Emily to participate, something she wholeheartedly approved of.

It was a nice backdrop to work in, filling all her social needs for the year in the time it took for her to wash up a few dozen plates. She learned that someone called Abigail was pregnant again, and that her wife was very proud about it; that a scary Villain called Broccoli, of all things, had turned into some sort of sky pirate; and that the local knitting circle had lost a member recently because of infighting.

It was all quite titillating and interesting, and Emily didn’t have to say a word other than to ask Teddy to help her take out the trash.

An hour or so in, she noticed that the water in her rinse bowl was getting a bit nasty. She flicked the tap off and took a deep breath.

“M-miss?” she asked one of the friendlier-seeming women who was chopping up carrots.

“Hmm? Yes, dear?” the lady asked without looking away from the machine-gun clatter of her knife tearing through vegetables.

“The dirty water, um, I can’t just dump it in the drain, so do I, uh . . .”

The woman paused and looked up. “It’s only soapy water? Bah, take it out the alley in the back. There’s a big old drain by the trash. A bit of bone and some vegetables tossed down there won’t cause anyone any harm.”

“Oh, okay,” Emily said.

She scurried back to the sinks and started to lift the heavy square bucket of dirty water out. “What are you doing, Boss?” Teddy asked.