"Oh! It's 'NotHaunted2029' with a capital N and H," Milo plopped down in the armchair Rook had vacated.
I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"IT has a sense of humor," he shrugged, pulling out a crochet hook and a ball of bright red yarn from his bag. "And they're still bitter about the ghost in the server room incident last year."
I decided not to ask and logged in, immediately opening a browser to check my email. I had dozens of unread messages, mostly spam and a few concerned notes from coworkers wondering why I hadn't shown up for my shifts.
While I scrolled through my inbox, I glanced over at Milo. He was hunched over his project, his fingers moving deftly as he worked the hook through the yarn.
"What are you making?"
He looked up, his face lighting up with enthusiasm. "Fall sweaters for my mini skeletons!" He held up what appeared to be a tiny red sweater, about the size of my palm. "They get cold at night."
I blinked, staring at him. "Aren't skeletons immune to that? They don't have skin? Muscles?"
Milo gasped, looking genuinely offended. He clutched the tiny sweater to his chest as if I'd insulted his child. "They have feelings!"
"Be that as it may," I tried to be diplomatic, "they still don't need clothes, do they?"
Milo opened his mouth to argue, but his gaze suddenly shifted to the counter. His eyes widened in horror.
"No! Jeffrey! Spit that out!" He shouted as he jumped from the chair.
I whipped around to see the mini skeleton he'd placed by Frank's bowl leaning over the edge. To my horror, its tiny skeletal hand was dipping into the water.
I screeched, the runes on my arm flaring to life as I leaped off the couch and ran to the counter. Jeffrey turned toward me, his skull somehow managing to look mischievous despite having no facial features. In his bony hand was my betta fish, flopping desperately.
"Frank!" I grabbed the fishbowl, hissing at the mini skeleton. "Put him back, you little monster!"
Jeffrey made a sound like chattering teeth and pointed at me, his tiny skeleton body shaking in what could only be laughter.
"Jeffrey!" Milo scolded, rushing over. "Apologize right now and go out into the hallway!"
The mini skeleton hung its head, making apologetic clicking noises as it gently placed Frank back into his bowl. The fish swam in frantic circles, clearly traumatized by his near-death experience.
"I am so sorry," Milo ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Jeffrey is just excitable?"
"Excited about fish murder?" I checked Frank, who seemed physically unharmed but was still swimming in agitated circles.
Milo sighed and pointed to the door. "Hallway. Now."
To my surprise, the mini skeleton pouted. How does a skull pout? He trudged toward the door. Milo opened it a crack, and Jeffrey slipped out.
"He'll think about what he's done," Milo assured me. "I've never seen him do that before. He must have been curious about Frank."
I set the fishbowl back on the counter, but farther away from the edge. "Is he going to be okay out there by himself?"
"Oh, he won't go far," Milo waved dismissively. "The necromantic tether with him only stretches about twenty feet. He's probably just sitting against the wall sulking."
I returned to the couch, the blue glow on my arm gradually fading as my panic subsided. Milo sat beside me, looking genuinely contrite.
"Ireallyam sorry about that," he looked down. "My skeletons are usually better behaved."
"It's okay," I sighed, closing the laptop. "Frank seems fine, just a little shaken up. Like his owner."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"So," I turned to face Milo. "Tell me about yourself. How does one become a necromancer with dancing skeleton minions, anyway?"
