Love Lost, Chapter 13a: Phobias.
#25 of Love Lost
Love Lost, Chapter 13a: Phobias.
The young man was touching every inch of Grace's flesh, and there was nothing she could do about it without being charged with assault, or at least getting into serious trouble. He started with her extremities--arms and legs--and worked inward. He even pinched her gills. Finally he lifted her skirt over his head and spread her legs apart.
"...intact," came his slightly muffled voice.
"Thanks for noticing," she growled through her teeth. "Are you done down there? Hey!" She quickly drew her knees up and together, and as her balance shifted she fell onto her back.
Doctor Haskin withdrew his head from beneath Grace's skirt as she rolled away. "No signs of disease," he examined three small, moist, padded strips held in his gloved right hand, "swab indications all negative. Yes, done."
She crossed her legs as she righted herself. "Good. I still don't forgive you for the first time, you know."
He required a moment to remember the event that she referenced. "I have a job to do, little time to do it in, and I can't assume every pokemon that comes in here is going to obey a stranger."
"You didn't have to be so rough, though. You just shoved me over like it was nothing."
Doctor Haskin had moved to Ocimene because there was a position available; he was still uncomfortable taking critique from his patients since a talking pokemon would be a dubious claim wherever he went through veterinary school. As usual, he mostly ignored his vocal patients except as not to annoy them. "Since your trainer is not present, do you wish to receive the oral report."
"I haven't been allowed to say 'no' to any of your demands until now, what changed?"
"Nothing. Early level 38. Overall condition is fine and you are cleared for competition, but I'd like to see you back in three months instead of twelve. Since you are in active training, your trainer is supposed to be a little more concerned about your well-being than the League-requisite yearly check-up."
Grace crossed her arms. "You'll excuse me if my first impression of you and your practice discourages me from looking forward to being here. Is that all?"
"No, we have one more thing to discuss." Doctor Haskin drew a task chair beside his examination table and sat, giving Grace a slight height advantage. "Your skin is not sloughing properly. Am I right in guessing you're being fed on a human diet instead of properly-formulated pokemon food?"
Grace bristled at that distinction, and at the thought of what typical pokemon kibble looked, smelled, and tasted like.
"I'm going to write a prescription. It isn't anything special, mostly a selenium supplement plus a few trace extras. One dose with a meal daily for a week, minimum, longer if you don't start to shed a layer. Also, take at least one berry a day as a snack. Nutritional deficiency is something our machines can't fix, and for your species in particular, there's a long-term risk of losing the ability to regenerate your skirt and developing other related conditions." Doctor Haskin tucked a report card into a slot in the back of Joe's trainer's device and handed it to her opened, displaying a note about her prescription.
"Thank you for the warning. Is that all?"
He rolled away. "You can get that filled on-site: just head down the other branch of the hallway, there's a small pharmacy at the end. Take care of yourself, Miss Rainier."
His sarcastic tone re-iterated that he felt talking pokemon were somewhat uppity, but she liked the sound of being addressed by her title and surname, even if that surname was not registered.
As Grace left the examination room, Dr. Haskin closed her file on his terminal, triggering a chime in the lobby and causing a number displayed on the wall to change from '63' to '64.' Alice turned to enter the medical wing hallway and accidentally blocked Grace's exit.
"Hey, how'd it go, Grace?"
"Okay?" Grace shrugged, "I hate him, but he didn't strap me down and try to steal an organ, so I guess... Alice?"
Alice straightened her posture, which had sagged slightly. She spoke in a low volume as she brushed by Grace. "That's good. I don't like that kind of doctor."
Inside the examination room, Alice hopped onto the table and offered a trainer's device to the doctor. Haskin glanced over it as he settled it into his computer terminal's dock. It seemed like a pitifully out-dated and entry-level--if not intentionally expendable--device, yet its shell had a strange custom inlay of a blue-yellow-blue stripe pattern. "Two in a row, pokemon coming in without trainers," he commented, "I'm starting to wonder if they're needed at all, Miss--"
" 'Alice' is fine. I'm sorry if I'm supposed to have my trainer here. He can't be, though."
Haskin read a notice on his screen as she spoke. "And, I see why. It's been quite a while since your last exam, too."
"If you're thinking I was being neglected or abused, please, don't. It wasn't like that."
Haskin cleared his throat unnecessarily, "Let's just get started," rose from his chair, and drew a tongue depressor from a nearby jar.
Grace twisted her shoulders a little, and her torso with them, studying how adjusting her antennae's alignment affected how easily she could sense the emotional states of employees working at the pokecenter's pharmacy. A familiar psychic presence caught her attention, and she turned to face its source as it spoke in a harsh tone, "Pick-up, Fairbanks."
The pharmacist glanced up and nodded.
Grace smiled a little as Roscoe stood at the counter beside her. "Fairbanks? Is that a registered last name, or are you borrowing it?"
"Registered," Roscoe projected.
"Does the doctor give you attitude about it?"
Roscoe touched one of his spoons within its bracer to target a quick scan of her mind for clarification. "I do not see Dr. Haskin regularly. We prefer a private practitioner."
Grace looked back toward a pharmacist, who was approaching with a small and generously filled paper bag, plus a lone bottle in his other hand.
"A pokemon with your own last name and your own doctor. You've got a nice setup, Roscoe."
Roscoe took his sack and thanked the pharmacist aloud before returning to telepathy. "Having either of those is often a sign that something has gone wrong along the way." Grace received her vial and trailed behind Roscoe. He said nothing more to her and departed via the teleportation room.
Grace watched a news program in the lobby until Alice emerged with a small bag pinched between her thumb-claw and her trainer's trainer's device. Rising and gliding to her side, the gardevoir noticed that Alice was feeling down and spoke with a chipper tone, hoping to offset it. "It looks like no one's getting out of here without being prescribed something. What'd you get, Alice?"
Alice's ears drooped even lower than they already were; Grace sensed her embarrassment directly as well. "Anti-fungal washing powder. I thought the itching was because it hasn't rained in a while, but," she trailed off and looked down at the floor mat.
Together, they exited the pokecenter. "Rained?" Grace asked.
"I don't have running water, and won't anytime soon."
"I know you like doing things on your own, but I feel like you're misplacing your pride. I mean, you're choosing to let your hygiene slip at the whim of the weather instead of admitting you need to borrow our bathroom at least a couple times a week. We're supposed to be family now, remember, Sis?"
"Yes, but... there were some really rough times. Daddy always told me there was nothing lower in the world than a moocher, no matter how rich or poor he was."
Grace put a palm on Alice's shoulder. "I think he's right about that. So, it's a good thing you didn't ask us; we invite you. Besides, if you're thinking about being rich or poor, which do you think costs more? A few gallons of tap water, or that prescription?"
Alice's ears twitched. "Actually, regular bathing is going to cost me."
Grace could not figure out how without a hint, and settled on a quizzical facial expression.
"One of my regulars at Song's. He likes to, well, smell me. And, since the dry spell, my 'lucario bouquet,' as he calls it, has been getting stronger. His tips have been getting bigger, with it."
Grace started walking instead of gliding. "That's, that's very--"
"I know. But, since I refuse to do the other things that some of Mrs. Song's employees are often expected to do, I kinda have to put up with it, whether I get tipped or not."
Alice's emotional state was conflicted and embarrassed. Grace was unclear about what she was implying, and tried to divert the subject. "Haven't you thought about getting a different job?"
"Of course. Every day. I'd like to try cooking since that's something else I'm pretty good at, but you can't work in a kitchen without a clean bill of health; 'Any pokemon that serves food to the public must be authorized and up-to-date with medical clearance.' " She gestured with the paper sack she carried. "Not this time. Besides, I think you're supposed to be owned by someone who works there, too. I don't know how it works for a fiduciary."
Despite her lexicon and a pokemon's innate ability to understand spoken language, Grace became confused enough that Alice sensed it in her aura.
"Because Daddy owns me and he granted me power of attorney over part of his property--myself--it could mean that if I was hired, the employee-owner thing would take care of itself. Or, it could mean nothing. It might depend on who is the judge hearing the case, I guess. Either way, it doesn't matter right now. I need to clear this rash and to find a place that will hire a pokemon coming in off the street, first. It's funny, if you want to talk about pride: humans are so impressed with how well they take care of us that they assume if a pokemon doesn't have someone giving it a home, it must want to live in the wild and they do whatever they can to make that her only option."
Grace proposed they stroll around town and look for other options as they worked their way to the Rainier house.
Doubled automatic doors glided open and shut with hisses as Ivana entered her suite, truly a floor all to herself except for a necessary maintenance area. The level was a three-story marvel, created by the greatest artificial habitat designers in the business to form a space that was as much a luxury hotel room as it was a re-creation of the sparse forested peaks of mountains her rarefied lineage hailed from.
Disappointed by the news that her latest attempt to become a mother had failed, she stomped through artificial grass and artificial snow on the floor, between a number of artificial trees, to find her way to her bath, which featured an inset tub large enough for her to lounge in four times over. It had an array of shower heads hanging above it. She pecked a button to activate both tub-filling jets and those shower heads above, and another button to choose a temperature. She selected one of its higher settings, one which would painfully scald any human and many pokemon, but was necessary to overpower her own nature and let her enjoy a relaxing warm soak. Steam billowed up in plumes while she preened before a mirror until a chime indicated that her tub was ready for her.
Beneath the trickle cascading from the shower heads, Ivana twisted around to lie on her back, her head resting on an elegant pillow. Singing a few short but complicated songs, she activated her computer vocally, instructed it to shuffle one of her infrequently used play-lists, and started browsing Ocimene's trainer database. As the deep tones of the first song's vocalist reverberated through the waters of her tub, she remembered a chance encounter that seemed feather-worthy at the time.
She examined his medical reports, the stock whence he came, his league record, and footage from his bouts. He did not speak to her when she met him, but his voice in the recordings was enticingly sonorous. Unlike the human singing through her bath's speakers, however, this "Burner," I.D. ? FB-34862/B, spoke with that delightful trill that only bird-types could master. She cooed and imagined him romancing her for a little while, before demanding her mind skip to the good parts. Her wings and tail stirred the water as she tried to satisfy herself, but that only made the water colder and ruined the moment.
Ivana put the thermostat on its maximum setting, killed the music, and retrieved a useful and somewhat customized accessory, inserting it with some difficulty. Back in the water, which was well re-warmed, if not ready to boil, she demanded the computer scroll up a suitable cinema and activated her device. Fortunately for her current desires, pornography featuring male blaziken mating using a dominant human's technique were not too difficult to find. Unfortunately, they were universally with humans or pokemon with human-like bodies, but they would have to do. Very few bird-types would allow themselves to be mated on their backs due to a heightened risk of accidental injury. She knew it was merely her kink, but felt no shame by justifying it to herself--as she would submissively raise her tail like a common hen for no male that had not proven himself well worthy of her boon.
The articuno was too distracted to hear footsteps approaching from the maintenance access door. That was okay; he respected her enough to let her finish.
Breathing heavily and holding no rein on her abilities, the nigh-boiling shower rained down thousands of frozen droplets that accumulated into a small heap upon her breast until she achieved the satisfaction she sought. That heap did not last long beneath the shower after she relaxed.
Maximilian waited in silence, folding a paper crane to bide time, until Ivana removed her implement and discontinued the showering flow. He cleared his throat as an ice breaker, capturing her attention.
Ivana glanced at Max, pecked a few buttons, and sang to her computer. It loaded a somewhat classical play-list at low volume, and activated its translation software.
She sang again and her computer spoke for her. "Remove clothes. Join me. Water temperature, we compromise."
Max approached but avoided direct eye contact. "You are interested in more than watching me bathe."
"You can't give what I want. We can have fun together, despite." The computer was oddly adept at capturing and translating her inflected insinuations.
Max faced away with a blush. "I'm not attracted to your type."
"Ice type? Bird type? Pokemon type? Female type?"
He turned swiftly to glare at her, "All of the above!"
"I'm sorry. I won't give you what you like. We can have fun together, despite." The computer was oddly adept at capturing and translating her inflected insinuations.
"Madame, Mr. Well received his copy of your medical report, and sent me to ensure that you were taking your disappointment in stride and to provide any emotional support you might seek. That does not reduce me to the station of," he glanced at her discarded toy, "one of those."
Ivana's wings splashed as she thrust them out of the water and slapped them back down, freezing the water's surface into a rippled plate of ice when they touched; an action that both directed her anger and provided a convenient platform to help her climb out of her tub. She came upon her feet and with a few swift paces thrust her body against his, squawking forcefully into his ear. She stomped away and began drying off by freezing the water in her feathers and shaking it loose as tiny crystals while a translation came through. "I offered sharing emotional support equally. You don't decline for your tastes. You decline because you want superiority. Otherwise, you see yourself as one of those. Leave my parlor, Employee. Leave now!"
Maximilian did so. Ivana put away her toy, powered down her bathroom's luxuries, equipped herself with a small electronic device that clipped onto her left wing, and went for a long flight to blow off steam.
Mister Plovo's voice carried across his classroom with ease. "Joe, you've been tripled-up for the lab projects, right?" Joe confirmed his chemistry teacher's foggy day-old memory. "Move to table seven. A new student's joining the class; you get to bring her up to speed."
Solymar chuckled as Joe gathered his materiel. "Delightful. You can spill chemicals all over someone else's things, now."
Joe squinted. "Delightful. You can lift a finger and do some of the actual work for yourself, now."
She muttered an insult as he strutted away. Actual work? She just got her nails done yesterday.
"Did you have trouble finding the room?" asked Mr. Plovo as a young girl with striking red hair entered the classroom. She nodded and approached the teacher's desk for a brief sidebar, after which he introduced Scarlet Foley and sent her to her seat at Table Seven.
Joe attempted to introduce himself once she settled in, but she shushed him: "Don't ruin the surprise."
Mr. Plovo confirmed his attendance roll, half-skipping Scarlet whose presence was already verified. He soon came to the R's, and after receiving acknowledgment from Joe Rainier, Scarlet extended a hand and whispered, "Nice to meet you, Joe." He shook her hand gently and smiled with a slight blush as he repeated the salutation back to her.
Solymar leaned back for a better view of their exchange. Too far, interrupting Mr. Plovo as he began to describe the day's lesson plan with a loud thud when her knees slammed against the bottom of her lab bench, saving her from falling off of her stool backwards.
"Are you having difficulties with the direction of gravity in this room, Miss Delgado?"
She adjusted her posture. "No, Mr. Plovo."
"Good. If this happens again, we will skip ahead to our discussion of how adhesives work and see if we can't keep you in your seat. Now, as I was saying before we spontaneously remembered that our laboratory stools aren't recliner chairs, we would intuitively expect from our understanding of the octet rule that fluorine..."
"Psst, do you know her?" Scarlet whispered to her neighbor.
Joe glanced across the room and whispered back, "Barely. We have some mutual friends, but we aren't pals or anything."
"Mister Rainier!" shouted his teacher.
Joe looked at everyone looking at him.
Mister Plovo melodramatically hung his head. "Am I already regretting this arrangement?"
Scarlet dove in to save. "I'm sorry, Mr. Plovo; it was my fault. I asked him to fill me in on what we were talking about. My old class wasn't this advanced."
"Understandable, but this is lecture time so I have the floor. We all must pay attention to the lesson or you won't be alone in falling behind. See me after class and we can figure out what material you need to cover to get on-track with us, and save your inter-pupil conversations for the laboratory half of the period. Okie-dokie?" Scarlet nodded and Mr. Plovo resumed. "Good. So, last week's episode ended with a cliffhanger as our heroes were naming the elements known to be one electron short of a full octet, and the fate of our world rested in Mr. Rainier's capable hands. What, daresay, is the fifth element in the halogen family?"
"Uhh... Iodi--"
Mister Plovo activated an electronic device in his hand that featured buttons which, when pressed, emitted one of a number of rude noises. "Books closed, pencils out; that just bought everyone a pop quiz."
A collective groan washed over the class.
"Come on, Joe," Scarlet chided, "even I knew that one and this is the first time I've showed up for this class all year."
With expert timing in the art of acting when no one is looking, Solymar beaned Joe with a wadded up sheet of paper.
"Are you two okay down there?" Asha leaned around a shelf and saw a gardevoir wearing an expression of intense concentration and a lucario with splayed antennae, a tucked tail, and a nervous tremor.
Grace ignored the shopkeeper's question. "He's still in the van. I can hardly read him, but he's going to give up if he doesn't see us soon."
An electronic chime indicated a new customer's arrival. Another shopkeeper welcomed him. Grace was completely focused on the man in the van, but Alice sensed that the entering aura belonged to an acquaintance. Her shaking stopped, but she stayed low and hidden behind short aisle shelving.
Grace opened her eyes. "I'm losing him. He must have given up."
Alice rose with Grace's aid. "I hope so. I've felt auras like that before." She looked around the store and noticed whose familiar presence she felt. No longer invested in a tenuous connection with a stranger's mind, Grace detected him too.
The second employee flipped through a worn book with a stained fabric cover. "Well, it's sure seen some travel. Not sure about that city name, certainly isn't part of any region I know of. Might be one of those other side of the world places; you know, you hear about explorers wanting to discover new pokemon, go sailing or flying off the map, come back talkin' 'bout funny languages and wilds where there are no pokemon at all. The other regions thought Ocimene was myth-o-logical for a while, there, too, so it could happen. Anyway, if you want to sell it or trade it, I can give you something for it."
Sam declined. "Maybe another day. I hoped you might know of more like it, or at least where it came from."
Grace and Alice approached while Job left his counter and joined Asha in straightening their shelves.
"Hello," Alice began, "it's nice to see you someplace other than the park circle for a change."
Sam nodded and looked to Grace. "Have you two developed an interest in literature?"
"Not exactly," Grace replied, "but we've both developed a sense that warns us when trouble is coming. Alice felt a bad aura behind us when we were on the sidewalk. We ducked in here and hid. A man driving a yellow van passed by slowly. I caught a glimpse of him and got a weak connection, just enough to know that he parked for a while at the end of the block and waited to see if we would leave before he did."
Sam waved goodbye to the clerks and exited, leading the girls out and holding the door for them. "You were probably right to hide. During the summer, when we were in Fenchone, one of the trainers we fought against lost a smeargle, stolen because it had red spots. Alice, your colors may be normal, but your species is a little hard to come by in this region."
"I know how it is, Sam. How it really is. That's why I knew we needed to go someplace safe."
Sam nodded. "I need to go home, before I'm noticed for being not noticed."
Grace re-joined the conversation. "We're headed the same way. Well, if that guy shows up again and means business, I'm ready to fight him off if I have to, and I don't think Alice would be a push-over, either, now that she and Burner have been toughening each other up. With you here, too, do you think anyone would try to snatch up three pokemon off of the street?"
Sam tilted his head briefly. "I don't think that sort of person would bother with a near-sighted starter, but there are people for whom stealing pokemon is their daily work. They wouldn't be fighting for play like we do, they would be fighting for keeps."
The gardevoir recalled the first play fight she watched. "I know how that is, Sam." She thought back farther. "So does my mother."
With the home's furniture pushed out of his way, Burner mimicked the moves of well-trained and well-choreographed combatants in a kung-fu movie. Most of their moves were more about flash than practicality, but a flashy finish to a one-sided fight could not hurt, and remembering how well Sam had learned to dodge and counter his repertoire, something unexpected could become something advantageous. He threw fast punches, turned fast twists, performed recoveries from falls with varying levels of deft. A little too into the moment, he ignited a kick that scorched a small spot on the ceiling. He stopped and pondered, wondering if there could be a way to fix it before anyone noticed. Burner was about to look in the garage for any old paint tins that might match the interior when he heard the doorbell ring. A wide patch of frost on the window caught his eye as he answered it.
As soon as he opened the door a cyan form barged in, singing a complicated song. The device on Ivana's wing offered translation automatically, but for another pokemon, and bird especially, it was not required.
"I like your moves," it spoke as Ivana pressed herself against Burner, forcing him to take a few steps back before standing fast against her. She pushed harder, but he did not budge. "And you can hold your ground when you want to. I like that."
Burner slipped a claw between his belly and her breast to spread them apart. "I remember, you belong to the old man who was here. He wanted to take Grace. What does he want now?"
"This visit is about what I want. I want to trade. I want you to help me breed. It's a fair deal; I will be lucky to succeed, while your pleasure is guaranteed." She exhaled coldly into his face, causing him to wince and turn away, and allowing her to covertly cast attract with a gesture of her right wing. "Your master doesn't deny you a male's pleasure, does he?" She pressed against him again. He was warmer now. When he answered negatively, she pushed a little harder in both ways. "Perhaps he pleasures you. Do you experiment together? Don't be ashamed; it's natural curiosity."
He tried to push her away again, but something restrained him. With both hands he again failed, and instead began rubbing his talons through her feathers. "No, he--we--don't do that."
Ivana squirmed in response to his touch, flagging her long, ribbon-like tail feathers a couple of times before silently reprimanding herself in her mind and regaining her self control. "Then what do you do when you feel the urge? A young, obviously healthy male like you--" His stance stiffened, he pulled his arms to his sides, and he glanced away. "--you... do nothing? Nothing but suffer and wait it out? You truly can hold your ground when you want to. I really like that." She pressed against him mightily and forced him back another step, cooing a giggle as he jerked to catch his displaced center of gravity. Although they offered no grip, she embraced him with her wing tips. The air that filled spaces between them and stirred with her motion brought Burner to realize his body's reaction to the things she was saying and doing. She stepped forward again, letting her feathers fill that gap between them completely, at the cost of taking a somewhat uncomfortable pose, since her body was not built to stand erect like his. He was warmer still. "Don't you want to let go, learn what this feeling," she raised up on her toes to provide Burner with a sensation of her feathers gliding against his body, "becomes when you share it?"
Burner panted heavily. Roles reversed, his exhalation washed over Ivana's face, but its heat was not a cause for recoil; it merely made her feathers stand on end for a second. "Yes. But not now, and not with you."
Ivana settled down from her toed posture. Her body wanted to lean forward, but Burner was again immobile, so instead her neck curved to follow the contour of Burner's chest; her beak rested in the fluff of his chest's mane feathers. She spoke indignantly. "Why not?"
"I have chosen my mate."
The articuno laughed haughtily as she stepped away, but only by a meter. She spoke more elaborately, such that her translating device could not keep up. "I didn't say I wanted you to be my mate, although with a little training you might be worth keeping. I said I want you to breed me. That's why you should do it. No obligation implied, your happy home life here won't change. Your chosen mate or even your master won't need to know if you don't want to tell and we're careful about when we do it. How long do you intend to stay pent-up before she lets you do what mates do? And, if you aren't doing it together, are you really mates?"
Burner thought back to their interaction the night Alice painted the walls of their room. They did not couple, thanks to her vigilance, but they did share pleasure, and who was this fowl to question it? "Yes, we are. And what we do and don't is our choice."
"But you don't mate."
"We are not ready for an egg."
Ivana laughed again. "That's human talk. That's what happens when you let them make you talk like a human. I'll give you a pardon this time, though, since your file shows you were hatched with it. You are a pokemon, she, I surely hope, is a pokemon, too. If you don't want eggs, leave them in the woods; I've watched all your gym videos, anything that's half You will be able to fend for itself. Or, leave them at a pokecenter. Sell them or give them away, if you think they should suffer human ownership from day-one."
"We don't live like that. Wild pokemon may do what they want, but we--we do what we want, too. We do want our family to grow, but only when we are sure we can give our eggs the kind of love that we received when we became parts of this family. If what you said is how you believe an egg should be treated, I don't want to give you one; I don't want you to ever have one. You aren't welcome here." Burner pointed toward the door.
"You want me to leave?" Ivana stepped forward. "Make me, tough guy."
Burner intended to strong-arm her to the door, but he lost the will to do so as he made eye contact. Her attraction was in full effect. Somewhat annoyed by his uncooperative antics, she swallowed a little pride and decided to taunt him, for fun and to put him in a more physical mood. "Here, I'll make it easy," she turned to face the door and leaned forward, raising her tail and wiggling her hips. "Come on, blaze-kick my ass through that doorway. Or, you can do something else to it, if you would like to." She looked back, he stood fast but the effect she wanted to see was coming into full view. She came about, kicked the door shut, walked back to him, and embraced him. He could not help but do the same when he tried yet again to force her away. "There are some things about humans I like, like how they make love. Did your master give you a bed? Let's go there. Show me what your body wants to do with your mate's body."
He glanced toward his room. He did not want to move, but he could not stop her from pushing him inside it. Still furnished with only old spare bedding, Burner tripped on his make-shift futon as she bullied him, causing him to fall flat. The consequential presentation delighted Ivana. "I was hoping to be on the bottom, but there's always next time. And I promise you, one taste and you're going to be hooked."
"Hey, Joe!" Scarlet ran up behind Joe as he exited the school grounds wondering why his big red escort was not there to meet him. "How did you do on the pop quiz?"
"I don't know, I'll find out tomorrow."
"You have to know. Twenty questions, you know the ones you got right because those are the ones where you say 'I know this' and write the correct answer down; multiply by five per cent, that's your score."
Joe's silence answered for him.
"Sounds to me like you need a study buddy. Where do you live? I might be willing to help you out for a reasonable fee."
"Fee?"
Scarlet raised her arms and placed her hands behind her head, causing them to disappear into the loose curls of her hair. "I accept snack foods, drinks in single serving bottles, all major credit cards, and occasionally favors, but only when I know I can trust someone."
"I've got some League credits left over--"
"A trainer? Ewww. I'm never going to catch a break, am I?" Scarlet walked away with a hastened pace, turning once to blow Joe a raspberry and cast a finger-wagging wave.