Part 8 of the How He Got Here series

Part of the arc: Unclegrumble Origin Story

UG never walked off with anything. He’d simply used a service nobody had ever billed him for, and cartel accounting doesn’t distinguish between theft and an unpaid invoice — either way, it goes down as a debt. Somewhere in the filing, a clerk logged him as exactly that: a debtor, first name only, an accent for a description, and nothing else to go on. It took years of patient legwork before that trail led anywhere.

Lichmyface got the job the same way he’d gotten the last one — sent to collect, his own Greener Pastures in hand, the standard threat ready to deploy the moment the door opened. It opened on a gnome who looked at him for a long moment, unbothered by an undead enforcer standing on his doorstep with cartel property tucked under one arm.

“You’re very quiet.”

Nothing.

“Tea?”

Whatever Lichmyface had walked up those steps intending to do, it didn’t survive that offer. He never delivered the threat. He never took the Greener Pastures back out. He simply stayed, the way you stay somewhere that turns out, against every expectation, to want you there. Nobody ever formally closed the file. He’s been there since.

He poured two cups anyway, out of habit more than hope. Lichmyface doesn’t eat, drink, or sleep, and has accepted the offer of tea every evening since regardless. The cup sits by his elbow, cooling untouched, and gets tipped out and replaced the next day exactly the same way. Nobody’s suggested stopping. It would feel like giving something up.

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