Diane allowed her son to answer for himself, against every instinct. Jackie nodded reassurance at her. Josh didn’t answer, instead turning to Diane, his eyes pleading, his face looking similar to Troy’s for the first time in his life.

“You don’t have to ask permission,” she said. “Speak your mind. Say what you want.”

Josh swallowed. He was quiet. The Troys were quiet. Everyone waited. When he spoke, the words were soft but clear.

“Okay,” Josh said, and the Troys flashed proud grins. “But you’ve been gone fifteen years. She raised me just fine without you, so it’s a little, um, it’s a little shitty for you to talk to me like I need you. Sorry, Mom, for saying ‘shitty.’

“I mean . . . Jackie. Jackie runs her own store, and she’s awesome. She’s doing great. Right, Jackie?”

“You tell him, antlers.” Jackie smiled with her voice, not her mouth. Josh blushed, one hand gently and unconsciously touching the structure coming out of his head.

“I’d be interested in getting to know you,” Josh continued. “But you don’t get to send four or five of yourselves. You don’t get to be everywhere. You live in Night Vale or nowhere. And when you’re there, it’s all of you or none of you.”

Troy opened his mouths. He closed his mouths. He looked, with sober eyes and drunk eyes, around at himself.

“Lucinda,” Jackie said.

“Huh?” he said.

“My mother’s name is Lucinda,” Jackie said. She turned and limped away, having nothing left to say or any desire left to hear.

A few, but not all of the Troys, nodded knowingly at this. A few, but not all of the Troys, looked at their shoes.

“Is this all of you?” Diane said.

“Most of us,” the Troys said, in unison.

“Get the rest of you together. You’re moving home. Now, Troy Walsh.”

Diane followed Jackie, but Josh stayed, watching the men, all of them gaping at him, doing nothing. Then, one by one, they went back into the bar. The especially drunk one leaned on the doorframe and held his son’s stare for a moment, then he was gone too.

“I don’t think he’s coming, Mom.”

Diane and Jackie just kept walking. There was nothing left to say. Either the right thing would be done or it wouldn’t.

Josh stayed where he was, watching the empty outside of the bar. He felt like crying, but his current physical form wasn’t able to do that. He had thought for a moment that things would be different, but they were the same. He looked down at his hooves for a long time, trying to gather himself enough to give up and leave. He brought his head up at the sound of a door opening.