Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG

Slowly, I swallowed and placed the glass back onto the table.

“Aw, no spit-take?” Tara pouted. “Thought I’d timed that perfectly.”

At a quick mental prompt, Azure took form in my shadow, creeping down and crawling beneath the tablecloth.

“Find out what she knows.”

“Your wish is my command!” Azure replied cheerily.

He wouldn’t be as strong here, in the city. If we were in a realm of flauros, like a dungeon or trial, given enough time he could have told me almost everything about Tara, from what she’d had for breakfast to her deepest, darkest secret. In the real world, he’d be limited to surface-level thoughts, which shouldn’t be a problem, seeing as how she broached the topic herself.

I smiled, baring my teeth. “Interesting ice-breaker.”

Tara nodded. “I get told I’m interesting a lot. Mainly by men, though. So I’ve never really been able to piece together if I’m actually interesting or if interesting is just code for ‘nice C-cup.’”

By some small miracle, I ignored the bait and kept my gaze at eye-level, using Awareness to scan the room without appearing to do so. No one else looked out of place. Nothing in the parking lot had set off

If this was an ambush, she was the only one springing it.

“Depends. Where are they looking?” I asked.

“Usually at my chest.”

“Then it’s a mystery, I suppose.”

Tara squinted at me. “Huh. You’re catty, I didn’t figure you for catty.”

“We all make mistakes.” I said blandly, doing my best to buy time for Azure. The conversation lulled as the waiter brought out bread and butter, and Azure returned with good news and bad. The good news was that she had nothing concrete. She was irritated at how long I’d made her wait, but more curious about what she’d seen. The bad news was that she was observant, savvy, and had an eye-for detail, and she’d been snooping around more than I’d realized. Tempering that slightly, Azure was fairly sure she hadn’t talked to anyone about her observations.

“You always start out first dates with an accusation?” I asked, smoothing the napkin over my lap once the waiter was clear.

“Nope. Really wildin’ out right now.” Tara rested her chin on her palm. “First date is usually buttoned up, conservative, calm.” She made finger-quotes. “‘Non-offensive.’ The nosy, meddling side of me rarely comes out until date three.”

“So you’ve expedited the process.”

“More like you Byzantined the process.” She stared at me like I was slow. “First, I see you around the building. Not usually my type, but my type tends to be fluid, so I try not to draw that conclusion too early. Eventually, I put together from context that you’re the guy who got hibachi’d to keep this place from going full-on hunger games that me and my brother would have inevitably been slaughtered in, and hey, suddenly, you’re one-hundred percent my type. I keep my fingers-crossed and my eyes open. And now—now I’m probably talking too much.” She stopped at that, her expression glum.

“No, keep going, I’m enjoying this.” As soon as I said it, it shocked me to realize that I was. Though my guard was still up, with all the cloak and dagger in my life as of late, it was refreshing to hear someone be so straightforward.

She carried on as if she’d never stopped. “So I’m there, working the seven-to-three, fingers-crossed and eyes open, when you finally come in. Unfortunately, you’re not alone. Fortunately, you have a kid brother. One who’s clearly too-cool-for-school that you seem to be earnestly trying to connect with. Score. Suddenly we have common ground, something we can connect on.”

I grimaced, knowing what was coming.

“Only, it’s not going so hot.” Tara shook her head, her expression sympathetic. “God, I wasn’t even trying to listen and I could tell that kid was ripping you a new asshole. Just tearing you to shreds.”

“Trying for a blowout.” I agreed quietly, without even realizing I was talking. There was no harm in confirming that much. She’d seen it. “Easier to keep someone out of your business if they want nothing to do with you.”

“But you didn’t give it to him. The blowout. Though from what little I heard, that would have been more than justified. He gave you a royal beat down, and you just sat there and let him vent. Like how do you even do that?” She sat back hard, cocking her head at me.

“Tension at home?” I guessed

Tara rolled her eyes, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Ethan and I… we were always copacetic, you know? Like there isn’t that much to fight over when you’re just trying to keep the lights on and everyone understands that. But…” She extended a hand toward the roof. “After the first event, he was one of the civilians elevated to User status and I… stayed a waitress.”

“Started getting ideas about who needed to take care of who.”

“Oh, did he.” Tara chuckled. “‘No worries sis, I’ll just throw myself into danger so we can have more money.’ Like that’s not the last thing I would ever want for him.”

“Like you’re just supposed to forget how young he is. All the mistakes you had to cover for. Because fucking up in the old world, that’s recoverable. Hard, sometimes, but part of growing up.” I filled in the blanks easily, with thoughts I’d had countless times myself.

“But now, if you fuck up out there…” She slid a finger across her throat. “Several types of dead. Easily. In a second.” Suddenly, her expression went from aloof to stern. “Stop being so understanding and making me like you more. I’m trying to set the scene here.”

I held my hands up in mock surrender, mildly amused. “Are you always this radically honest?”

“Definitely not.” She cringed a little, offering a half-smile. “Considering how I almost died last time, I guess the timer and whole second-event-on-the-horizon-thing is driving me to be a little bolder. Which is probably stupid, because in my experience guys hate that.”

“I’m not like the other boys.” I said, layering the statement in as much irony as I could muster.

“Gross.” Tara rolled her eyes again. “Anyway. I see this pick-me—”

“—Hey—”

“—get absolutely obliterated by his brother. My first instinct is to shut it all down. He’s having a bad day, probably not the best time to talk to him. But then…” Tara tapped her cheek. “I get an idea. A way to my flag my interest and maybe make his day a bit better. So I write my full name down—”

“With a heart over Strickland.”

She pointed at me again. She pointed a lot. “Exactly. Hoping he’ll get the message. Then, after a lot of wondering if he just wadded up the receipt and threw it into the trashcan—”

I winced preemptively.

“—He finally hits me up. Only it’s late at night. He’s smart enough not to go straight for the kill, starts out by asking about getting coffee, but I’m getting serious booty-call vibes.” Her smile faded a little. “Tested the waters, and he went for it. Little disappointing, but I figure, that’s fine. He’s cute, probably saved my life, and since he lives in the same building and will inevitably want a repeat performance, this might be a convenient way to blow off steam.”

“And then the fucker immediately flakes on you.”

“Exactly.” She drew the word out in disbelief. “So, I’m curious, and more than a little annoyed. Still, maybe it’s legitimate, maybe he has a good reason. I’m half-expecting a hungover apology in the morning, but that never happens. Naturally, I assume he has a girlfriend, had a moment of weakness and gave into temptation. Shitty, but it happens. I keep an eye out, for my own voyeuristic satisfaction if nothing else. No girlfriend. A few nights later, I spot him leaving, alone. But I never see him come back. What I do see is him, coming into the restaurant in the mornings, dark bags under his eyes, absolutely beat to shit, nursing injuries. He hides them well, but I see it in the way he cringes when he moves wrong. Off doing User things, has to be. I catch him leaving a few more times, but again, I never see him until the mornings. So I have to wonder, where the hell is he going, and if he’s taking that much of a beating every night, why does a region leader never bring anyone with him?”

Azure was right. She didn’t have anything. Nothing more than a series of coincidences. But if she mentioned those coincidences to the wrong person, it could make my life considerably more difficult. And if she was as perceptive as Azure thought she was, it was better to avoid a direct lie. Stay as close to the truth as possible.

I smoothed the tablecloth. “It’s… how I started. Working alone. I imagine the same way as a lot of other people, in the early days. Like you, I’m used to being the only person my siblings can rely on. That’s all a little different, ever since the first event.” I looked out the window for emphasis. “They have a village now.”

“Your life has changed.” Tara nodded along.

“For the better. But, there’s a part of me that misses being self-reliant. There’s a certain solace in it, when your life is the only one you’re responsible for. And that’s a far cry from then way things are now.” I said, not having to fake the wistfulness in my voice. “Sure, I could probably tap a few people from the Adventurer’s or Merchant’s guilds to tagalong. That would probably be safer. But if I’m being honest, going out there, exploring, looking for realms of flauros…”

“It’s your way to recharge. You’re an introvert, and it’s the only time of the day you aren’t around people or responsible for something.” She bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

“Exactly,” I smiled, then let the smile ebb. “Maybe it’s reckless. It’s not meant to be, it’s just…”

Tara shook her head. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I get it.”

We both jumped as the waiter appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. “A complimentary bottle for the table.” He placed a bucket of ice on the table, removing a green bottle and filling a glass. I nearly opted out, before Tara stopped me with a quick shake of her head. Begrudgingly, I sat back and waited as he finished and left the bottle to the side. “What will we be having this evening?”

Christ, I hadn’t even glanced at my menu. Didn’t help that every dish was written in Italian, and other than spaghetti, the rest was Greek to me.

Tara carried on, nonplussed. “I think I’ll have… the osso buco—is that garnished with gremolata?” When the waiter confirmed that it was, she nodded. “Perfect. And he’ll have the spaghetti alla chitarra con polpette di vitello.”

I relaxed, giving her a look, to which she stuck out the tip of her tongue.

Before the waiter left, he clapped me on the shoulder and leaned down with a wide-smile. “We deeply appreciate everything you’ve done.” Then disappeared just as quickly.

I waited a few seconds, then asked. “What the hell did you just order me?”

“Spaghetti and veal.” She blinked. “You said earlier you wanted spaghetti and I know you like veal from the restaurant.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“What did you get?”

“Veal.”

“Then why are none of the words the same?” I wondered.

“Dunno. I speak fine dining, not Italian.” She peered at my bubbling glass. “Are you straight-edge?”

“Complicated.”

“Obviously, but I was referring to the champagne.”

Again, I felt a strange compulsion to be honest with her. I carefully took stock, mentally reciting memorized information, making sure there wasn’t some sort of spell or skill-affect screwing with me. Nothing. Neither or picked up on anything being cast.

If anything, all my inner-voices were quieter around her.

And I didn’t know what to think about that.

“There’s an alcoholic in the family.” I admitted. When Tara immediately paled, I waved a hand. “It doesn’t bother me on a fundamental level. Don’t mind being around other people drinking either.”

“Cost benefit analysis.”

“Hm?”

“The decision to not drink.” Tara said, taking a long pull of champagne, staring at me over the rim. “Whatever short-term jollies you get from a trip to vodka—no, wait, not enough self-loathing—well-whiskey land isn’t worth risking the chance you have the gene.”

Azure’s read was perfectly on the mark. She was dangerous.

“Partial credit.” Had to give her that.

Her eyebrow shot up. “Got it wrong?”

“Not entirely.” A small voice stopped me. This wasn’t the sort of thing I usually shared. Yet, despite that, I shared it anyway. “The alcoholic gene factors, but it’s not that I won’t, or that I don’t want to. It’s that I can’t.”

“Very vague. Enigmatic. If that’s what you’re going for—”

“There’s no headroom. No accounting for errors. If I fuck-up, things go bad in a second. It’s always been that way. Sometimes it doesn’t matter, and things go to hell beyond my control. And when that happens, I need to be ready. So naturally, I’m constantly expecting the worst and preparing for it. Given that, most of the time I clutch it out.” I thought about the tunnel. “But sometimes I don’t. And it’s hard enough to deal with the fallout of failure when I didn’t voluntarily do anything to impair my judgment.”

Well, that was a mood-killer and a half. From my understanding of how these things went, this was probably the point where she’d go quiet, we’d finish our awkward dinner in silence, and never talk to each other again.

Only she wasn’t looking away. Her expression was coy, almost playful. “How would you change my outfit, given the chance?”

What? “What?”

“Answer the question. Come on, I want your opinion.”

I looked her over, keeping my expression neutral, careful not to linger. From the golden dress, to the matching earrings and perfectly coiffed hair, I had no notes. She clearly had a far better grasp of fashion than I did.

“Do you have boots or sneakers in your inventory?”

She half-shrugged, smoothly swapping our glasses so it appeared like I’d partaken of the champagne. “Flats, in my bag.”

“Then nothing.”

No way she was running in those heels if everything went to hell, but of course, she had a backup plan. I wasn’t attracted to her. But that was hardly her fault. It’d be fair to say I’d never really been attracted to anyone. But I could appreciate the presentation, the effort she’d put in, and the attributes that inevitably made her attractive to others. Museum rules. I enjoyed looking, even if I had no desire to touch. In some ways she felt like a kindred spirit, similar to me, yet entirely different.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Why the fashion consult?” I asked.

“Guess I was curious.” Tara took another long-pull, evening out our glasses. “If you’re a controlling asshole with unreasonably high expectations of everyone around you, or really just that hard on yourself.” She glanced out the window thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, if you’re that disciplined, I’m guessing you’re not even here for me. Centrally located restaurant, window seats. That’s all intentional, isn’t it? You’re showing me off. Or at the very least, making a public demonstration that you’re not worried about the timer.”

Feeling slightly guilty, I channeled Nick. “What sane person wouldn’t want to show you off?”

Her eyes went dark, glittering with challenge. “Fair warning. Don’t give me the hot-cold treatment unless you want me to drag you to the bathroom, right fucking now.”

I stopped channeling Nick and shut the fuck up. Then spent an inordinate amount of time mentally reviewing the restaurant’s possible escape routes.

Suddenly, Tara laughed until she was tearing up.

I bristled. “Great joke.”

“No, no. Trust me. That wasn’t a joke.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m laughing at how quick on the draw you are with the poker face. One second you’re—you know—vibing, quietly enjoying yourself.” She raised a flat hand and drew it downward, expression transitioning to deadly serious as her hand passed. Her voice took on an alarmingly accurate depiction of my deadpan. “Then you’re about to make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

I took a deep breath, allowing myself to relax. “Considering how reserved you are at work compared to now, something something pot and kettle.”

“Finally.” Tara leaned forward. “Come on. Hit me.”

“What makes you think I have anything to say?”

“Other than that infuriating smirk on your lips and the fact that we’ve already established that you’re catty?” Tara folded her hands and rested her chin on them. “I’ve been poking at you for the last half hour. It’s only fair play.”

“You’re not going to like it.” I warned her.

“Don’t tell me what I will and won’t like.”

Whatever this was, whatever she thought she felt towards me, the only justifiable reason was that she didn’t know me. And I had a feeling, based on our encounter so far, that if I didn’t give her a genuine answer, she was just going to keep pushing. Maybe it was better this way. I wouldn’t give her everything, not enough to send her running, simply enough to ensure any reasonable person would lose interest.

“Fine.” I drained my water glass, placing it on the table with a clink, then leaned forward and studied her. “You dropped out for Ethan, but he’s not why you didn’t finish your degree.”

Tara’s smile vanished.

I kept going. “You didn’t ditch PR. You’re too passionate about it. It wasn’t a loss of motivation or being overworked. With night classes or online courses you could have easily finished it with the time you had, probably tacked on a master’s while you were at it. Not to say you were stagnant. Anything but. I’m guessing you kept up your studies independently, read what you could when you could, and at some point realized finishing your degree academically was pointless. You found a mark, some under-tapped market that the archaic monoliths of corporate PR weren’t reaching. And in that vacuum, you found opportunity. Smart money says you were networking, trying to form the connections to get that particular effort off the ground.”

Tara’s mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but no words came out.

“Not at any fault of your own. Dome surprised everyone, fucked up more plans than god. You kept your head down, kept working at the same place. You’re a hard worker. Not exactly a deep insight, anyone who sets foot in the restaurant can see that, but I still think it deserves mention—because you perfectly suppress your true personality, and the professional mask is so good I didn’t catch a hint of it. Which is saying something. But it takes a toll. You’re—” I stopped, noticing the glassiness in her eyes.

“Keep going.” Tara whispered. “I’m enjoying this.”

Okay.

“You’re…” I swallowed. “Sexual. Possibly hyper-sexual, not that it’s anyone’s business other than yours, but you asked. I’m guessing having to stay so strait-laced at work aggravates that, but there’s something else. A note of thrill-seeking to it. You were willing to hook-up with a guy you knew practically nothing about and had never held a conversation with, and I’m not egotistical enough to believe there-was-just-something-about-me. You’ve done this before.”

“So I’m a whore.” Her expression was cold.

I shook my head. “No. Semantics aside, it may not even be about the sex. Unless I’m completely wrong, I’m guessing risk-taking is part of your coping mechanism. The way you deal. Not knowing what you’re walking into amps up the risk-factor, and therefore, the enjoyment. Same reason you confronted me so openly about my ‘secret life.’ Willingly exposing yourself to risk and chaos helps make the stringent control you have to enact more bearable.”

There was a long, tense silence. Tense enough that when the waiter arrived with our steaming plates and placed them on the table, he delivered them wordlessly and retreated. I was almost entirely certain I’d said too much.

This is where she tells me to fuck off.

Tara shifted, the strap of her dress slipping down one shoulder. Her warm breath washed over me as she whispered. “I’m wet.”

I swallowed.

“I’m… ace.”

The spell was broken. Almost immediately Tara leaned as far back in the chair as she could, her eyes wide. “What.”

My words came out in a rush. “I mean I probably am, I don’t know, it’s never really been relevant until now—”

“Stop.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, the bootycall—”

“—Was entirely accidental.” I admitted.

“And this isn’t a ‘I always thought I was asexual until I met you, Tara,’ situation?”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t work that way.”

She blinked several times, holding a hand out to one side in confusion. “Was I imagining it? Do we not have chemistry? Because I’ve been on a lot of first dates and this is the first time it’s felt like we’re in danger of setting the place on fire.”

I snorted. More of that trademark honesty, even in the face of rejection. “You weren’t imagining it.”

“So you felt it too.”

“Yes.”

“Just not in a way that involves taking me back to your penthouse and tearing my clothes off.” She confirmed.

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

“This has been a waste of your time.”

Tara scoffed. “Hardly. Ignoring the possibility you get all weird and start avoiding me because of the awkwardness of me thirsting over you at dinner, I’m pretty sure I made a friend.” She eyed me. “And you got a chance to confirm something pretty crucial about yourself. That’s hardly a waste of time, even if we’re all monster food two weeks from now.”

I drummed my fingers on the table. She was being magnanimous, but the scales still didn’t feel even. “About Ethan.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This isn’t exactly common knowledge. I know you can keep a secret—”

“And how do you know that?” Tara asked, amused. “If anything, I’ve probably given the impression I’m a blabbermouth.”

I fought the instinct to glance away, remembering what Azure had told me. She’d seen more than enough to gossip, yet she’d kept her mouth shut. And that was before she even knew me. Maybe I was giving her too much credit because I liked her. That concept was almost entirely new to me. But it felt right, and this was more of an open secret than anything else. “Call it a hunch. Tyler’s been working on a program for kids and teens with User status.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Tyler, as in leader of the Adventurer’s Guild Tyler.”

“Got it in one. Anyway, your situation isn’t unique, even within this region. There’s no small number of kids with combat classes who are either orphaned or suddenly have a newly strained relationship with their civilian parents. More whose parents are too busy or too scared to teach them. Plenty of them ranging out into dungeons on their own, and we both know how many people died during the last event, children included. Tyler thinks the best course is to get the kids used to their classes and powers, as well as combat, in a semi-safe setting.”

“Semi-safe.” Tara repeated, unsure.

“Right.” My eyes slid to the side. “No one’s died. Most of it is giving them easy quests on the surface and sparring with each other. But nothing can really prepare you for live combat but live combat, so there is occasionally some danger involved. Every couple weeks, the adults scout a low-level dungeon, either confirm that there are no problematic monsters or clear those monsters out, then supervise as the kids go through it. They’re compensated for any work they do and they keep the loot they find. They’re also, for all intents and purposes, considered full-fledged members of the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“Given that, how would they be deployed?” Tara asked cautiously.

“They’re considered reserves. Tyler has a bigger soft spot for kids than I do. In all likelihood, the only reason they’d be deployed would be in dire straits, if there was a good chance the entire region’s getting wiped out. And they’d be augmenting the adult squads, not deployed on their own. Anyway, it’s not perfect, but it’s something.” I shrugged.

“Safe to say, I’m very fucking interested. Ethan would go for that in a second.” Tara brushed her chin with her thumb. A light flicked on behind her eyes. “The reason this isn’t common knowledge is that the Adventurer’s Guild doesn’t want the other regions to think they’re training child soldiers.”

I nodded. She caught on quick. “Tyler’s still working on how to spin it.”

In truth, I wasn’t sure there was a good way to spin it. Regardless of what our intentions were, it was effectively what we were doing.

Tara’s eyes flicked back as she chewed on her bottom lip. “What about the other regions?”

“Hm?”

“You said my situation wasn’t unique.”

“It’s not.”

“Then we’re not the only regions dealing with it.” Tara mused. “If Tyler was willing to open up this program to children in the same situation in other regions, it would dissuade suspicions, especially if you were willing to take on teachers from those regions.”

“Unaffiliated with the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“Exactly. Beyond the obvious advantages of helping kids who need it, it’d be a chance to bridge the divide, encourage unity across the regions.” She continued, growing more animated.

And open us up to spies large and small. Naïve.

Tara’s expression turned sinister. “Imagine the pipelines that would open. Not to mention a mountain of good will. They’d have to limit the outsiders exposure to our region, of course, no reason to give away information for free. And kids talk, so it’d probably be better to keep the outsiders in a separate group from the local kids. But think about it. If you have the option of attacking the region that’s been helping keep your kid alive or turning on the other guy, how exactly do you think that’s going to go?”

It was insidious, beautiful, and just a little bit evil, all wrapped in the package of doing something that was legitimately good. Something Tyler would one-hundred percent go for. It wasn’t something I’d broach to him until after the second event was over or avoided—inviting the children of other regions over just before the transposition was guaranteed to be a bad look—but after? It had a hell of a lot of merit.

The gears in my mind turned. I’d been shirking my duties as Region Leader. In no small part because I worked better from the outside. As support, rather than the star of the show. At first, I’d believed it to be little more than a title that occasionally made a decision. But the longer I stayed here, the clearer it was that these people, regardless of their history, looked up to me for saving them.

And the only thing more surprising than that, was that I didn’t want to let them down.

I’d been thinking too long, evidenced by the crestfallen look on Tara’s face. “That’s… probably a little stupid and unethical—”

“Do you want a job?” I asked suddenly.

/////

We spent the next hour ironing out the details. Tara would work for me and Kinsley, effectively doing what she’d always wanted to do. Running PR. Coming up with ways I could help my region and helping me work on my image. I’d all but discarded the idea of using her as a beard before—to my utter shock—she brought it up herself, on the basis that she’d go a long way to softening the “almost-literal-chip-on-my-shoulder” and staving off unwanted attention. We’d meet once a week as a “date” in somewhere public. I tested the water, asking if she’d be willing to undergo something like a geas, and she was surprisingly fine with the idea, citing that it wasn’t all that different from an NDA, something public relations types typically signed as a basic matter of course.

Yet, I couldn’t shake the shadow of a doubt that I was missing something. It wasn’t something Tara herself had done, it was something else, something in the negative spaces I couldn’t quite define. I was used to fighting tooth and nail to get what I wanted, tapping into every reserve I had to cinch out an ideal outcome. Yet with Tara, things had gone smoother than I could have possibly dreamed.

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Maybe your luck’s finally changing.” Azure said.

I ignored him and walked Tara to the curb. Evening was fast approaching, and Sunny’s number was finally up. But I found, to my abject surprise, that the anticipation and bloodlust that would typically accompany that thought simply wasn’t there.

Tara balanced on the curb and looked back at me in a daze, her once-perfect hair askew in the breeze. “This has been… a lot.”

“More than I bargained for as well.” I glanced down the road. The white shuttles served as public transport around the region, now that the diesel-chuffing buses of old were more or less out of commission. “Sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“No.” She brushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear and shivered. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. And you sort of just changed my whole life, so, I kinda want to be alone and process.”

As the shuttle approached, Tara opened her bag and swapped her heels for flats, balancing easily on the curb as she did so. Then winked. “Just in case something happens and I need to run.”

“Your wisdom knows no bounds.”

She climbed the steps, paused to wave, and then she was gone, shuttle headed back towards our complex. Her absence left me with a strange feeling, and a lingering unease I couldn’t put my fingers on.

Absentmindedly, I pulled up my UI and scrolled through my messages.

Next.

Next.

Perfect. Only he was messaging me as Matt, which made this tricky. I hit him back, asking if he’d be willing to help out a friend and confirmed payment, then passed along Sae’s contact details. She’d be the only connection to me, keeping Myrddin out of it.

I paused on Kinsley’s message, wavering in indecision. In the distance I saw the brake lights of Tara’s shuttle as it stopped, picking up another few passengers before the brake lights faded and the shuttle took off again.

Finally, I tapped the call button, and swiped the UI away, watching as the shuttle disappeared around a distant city-block corner.

“If it isn’t my broodiest, least responsive employee.” She chirped.

“Ha ha.”

“Date didn’t go well?” She asked.

I shook my head. “The opposite.”

“You’re shitting me.”

I rubbed the ever deepening lines of my forehead. “I need a favor.”