"After all, doctors don't graduate high school and start performing surgeries! They need expertise. So do sexers."
"Is that what they're called?" I shouldn't have asked, but my curiosity was destroying me.
"Yes." Grandma nodded. "Sexers. But like I said, I wasn't a chicken sexer, per se. I sexed the feathers."
Jace pursed his lips together. "You… sexed the feathers?"
"How does one—"
"Beth." Jace started coughing wildly.
"Oh dear!" Grandma reached for the kettle. "Do you need more tea?"
"No!" Jace and I said in unison.
"Sleep." Jace yawned. "Beth will take care of me. Promise."
She turned just as Jace brought the cup back from his lips and held it out. "Well, good job!"
He beamed.
I rolled my eyes behind Grandma.
"Now, I'll leave you to sleep. Beth, if his throat keeps getting sore, be sure to make him a mustard sandwich with onions. It's hell when you wanna kiss your honey goodnight, but it works like a charm. Ta-ta!" She took her tray and left.
"I think she just killed my stomach." Jace burped and then groaned. "Holy shit, it tastes like chicken feathers. I'm dying! She poisoned me!"
"Stop being dramatic. She was just trying to help."
"No, that woman is a lunatic!" he yelled. "Chicken feathers? Sexing chickens? She was trying to call our bluff! Need I remind you that she put Viagra in my tea?"
"Well you showed her," I said dryly. "So brave."
"Tell me, Captain Jack, where's the rum?"
"Arrgh."
"Nice." Jace laughed. "You sound like a pirate with a cold, and, by the way, your accent sounded like a cross between an Australian and very confused Canadian. Good job, eh?"
"I hate you."
"You nicknamed me Thor — you love me." He grinned. "Thanks for taking care of me, by the way, and for helping me kill the plant."
I should have slit his throat when I had the chance; instead, I picked up a feather.
"Thirsty?"
"Are you threatening me?" He seemed amused at the prospect.
"Yes, better be on your best behavior, or I'm calling Grandma in to nurse you back to health."
"She'd kill me."
"I know."
"My death would be on your hands."