Petits Pois à la Menthe

When Mira had said she had an itinerary of activities she wanted to do, Caleb had been expecting a very hectic, quick-moving day. Certainly did not expect to be lounging in a cafe sitting room with a faun wearing a fake mustache giving him a thumbs up from across the counter. Across from him, Mira was peering at the paintings on the wall while she sipped at her flat white. Caleb was still warm from being outside and had ordered his dirty chai iced.

The trip over hadn’t been too bad; he now had two umbrellas hosted at the hotel with Arietta’s in the mix, so he had choices. Mira seemed to recognize that even though he was managing on the boat, it was still taking a lot out of him, so she hadn’t been speaking until they arrived at the cafe to make their order. In and of itself, the process was strange to Caleb; there was no payment for their drinks, he supposed BP was considered too valuable for trading for things like that. The only thing you had to contend with was the mustachioed faun wiggling its eyebrows at you suggestively.

As Caleb took a sip of his drink, Mira set hers down, “Last time we were on a date together I rebuffed your attempts to learn more about me.” The statement was flat, not a question, just a statement of fact, which left the master somewhat confused on how to respond.

Still, he set his drink down and nodded, “Yeah, I believe you said it was unrealistic to expect us to really get to know each other in this time frame?”

The agent tapped her finger on her smooth latex-covered knee, “Yes, and while my opinion has not changed necessarily, it likely is worth sharing some things. You and I have a preestablished relationship, and while our previous date’s daliances should have gone far to break a lot of hang-ups surrounding the employer-employee divide, I was encouraged that sharing some more intimate details may go a long way.” Her words came out precise and measured, like she had rehearsed them many times to avoid saying anything she might deem unnecessary.

Stirring his drink on the table, Caleb felt himself weighing Mira’s words in his mind before finally asking, “Who ended up changing your mind?”

Mira frowned, “As I said, I haven’t changed it, but Eliza was the one who encouraged me that it may be more beneficial to…” She gestured vaguely with her hand as she searched for the word, “convey more of myself to you.”

Caleb gave a small half-smile, encouraged that even in shutting herself away, the professor was still doing what she could to help others. He took a sip of his drink. “So what did you want to discuss then?”

“Romantic history felt most appropriate, given the nature of our relationship. It occurred to me I know much more about your romantic life than you know mine, so I thought to even the scales over a relaxing coffee.” She turned her gaze to his chai, “This will have to do.”

Putting on a face of mock insult, Caleb lifted the cup, “Hey, it’s got espresso in it, it’s halfway there.”

The agent smiled in response, “Yes, it will, so I suppose I should start with the basics. I have had a total of five romantic partners throughout my life, both male and female.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, “In your introduction, you said you didn’t have time for romance.”

A mischievous twinkle sparked in Mira’s eyes, “Yes, and that I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to listen to my broken voice. Both statements were true, but also revealed next to nothing of the reality. I was quite proud of that, before I knew the true scale of this game they would have us participate in.” She took a sip of coffee, “The reality is just that, I was too busy to be dating, I did it anyway, and it was invariably what tore my relationships apart. Partners complaining I was never around, didn’t have time for them, wouldn’t make the effort, etc.” She listed them with the practiced ease of someone explaining why they had been fired from a job, “After I lost my voice, I had two partners at different times, one was a man I knew from my opera days, and the disconnect of who I was and who I am made the relationship shatter. My most recent relationship was with a woman I met through a colleague, who worked in a museum.

Caleb paused and then was unable to stop himself from saying, “I didn’t know you were bisexual.”

“I’m not entirely sure that I am,” Mira said, plainly confusing Caleb further. She met his eye, saw his confusion, and gave a measured smile, “When it comes to a relationship, letting someone into my life and sharing intimacy with them, I have never had a preference. Particularly when I was singing, I was already surrounded by so many beautiful, talented women, I thought originally I might be a lesbian, but to put it plainly…I have never desired sex with any of those women, only ever with men. It is a confusing thing, but something I was fine with reconciling. I was perfectly happy in all my same sex relationships, and happy to engage in sex to make my partner happy…Alas, it didn’t always work out.” She frowned and danced her fingers along the surface of the table, “My last partner did not believe I was ‘present’ enough or properly ‘desired’ her, so that ended things.”

She lifted her cup to her lips and looked at Caleb through lidded eyes, “So now you know my history, in much the same way I know yours. If any remnant of our former relationship existed, I hope this has done enough to shatter it.” She gazed down at her drink and then sipped, “As if we have much choice at this point.”

Caleb set his own cup down, ice clinking against the glass, “Do you mind if I ask something plainly?” His eyes were steady on Mira, and she could see a resolve that was absent last week.

“I encourage it,” Mira set down her own cup and put her hands in her lap.

“With the game structured as it is, and the position it puts you in, I will do anything I can to help get everyone through this, but I’d like to know,” The master leaned in, hands laid flat against the table, “Are you attracted to me and intending to start a real relationship, or are you aiming purely to survive this game?”

Mira narrowed her eyes, “Caleb, of course I-” she was stopped in her tracks as the poker returned, hotter this time, building on the heat that was already present. The lines of white hot pleasure felt like they were leaving grooves internally that throbbed with need and echoed even as the sensation faded. The agent was practically panting, head down and bent over, as she cursed and slammed a fist on the table.

The master leaned in and touched her shoulder, “Mira, are you alright? This is the second time I’ve seen this happen.”

Biting her lip, she turned to face Caleb while still hunched over, “It’s a sabotage, it’s alright, I engaged in it willingly with the one who placed it on me.”

Caleb’s face screwed up in concern, “Can you tell me what triggers it? It might let me help you avoid it activating.”

“I can-” She seized as the sensation gripped her again, “You’re fucking kidding me!”, it was like her insides were aflame and hollow with a burning desire to be filled. As the strongest of the waves ended, she still felt a nagging emptiness dragging at her. She clutched onto the side of the table, white knuckled, her hair slightly matted to her face in sweat, which she reached up and pulled back. “I will not tell you, I am afraid of it being abused,” she said through gritted teeth, apparently, the trigger was as sensitive as the most pedantic of English teachers.

Caleb frowned and nodded, and moved from his seat to help Mira back to hers. He had an inkling of what was going on just from the context, but if Mira didn’t want to say anything, he wasn’t going to risk another attack happening.

The agent took a few minutes to catch her breath quietly as she could while avoiding eye contact. Caleb sipped his drink and was surprised to hear Mira speak up again, “To answer your question…”

Caleb raised a hand, “If it’s going to be a problem for you, you don’t need to answer.”

Emphatically, Mira shook her head, “No, I don’t want you to think I’m dodging it. You spoke plainly with me, so let me be plain with you. Caleb, physically, I find you quite attractive. You are handsome, well-muscled, and I have seen you in a suit; I know you clean up well. I have no compunctions about the idea of having sex with you.”

The master gave a wry smile, “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”

Mira returned his smile, “But, I want a partner who challenges me, who I find myself seeking out intellectually or emotionally because of their ability to bring out the best in me.” She gave Caleb an evaluating stare, “When you came here, you were so self-effacing that the idea of you touching me was abhorrent. Now? You’re fine. I could see myself enjoying physicality with you. But a relationship? I don’t see it, not now.”

He would be lying if Caleb didn’t feel a small blow to his ego. Hard-pressed not to feel discouraged when a beautiful woman states she has no romantic interest in you, but he had to be fair. No one had asked for this situation, and regardless of where they were now, he was determined not to leave anyone behind. “Well…I won’t lie, being told twice in a week by people I care apart that they just want me for my body is the most simultaneously flattering and harsh thing I can think of. That being said,” He matched gaze with Mira, “Do you at least see the opportunity for us to be friends?”

Mira blinked as if the question caught her off guard, and slowly dropped her cup, “Caleb, I see how hard you’re working for everyone here and me. I…” She paused, thinking how to couch this or redirect it, before shaking her head, “We are friends, for what it’s worth, I consider you a friend.”

Caleb relaxed in his seat and leaned back before reaching out and grabbing his drink and taking a sip, “Well, I can live with that then, so…” he raised an eyebrow at Mira, “What’s next on the Itinerary?”

“Ah, well, let’s see…” Mira clung to the question like a life preserved as she tried to turn all attention onto the list she pulled out of her bag as if it would protect her from the embarrassment she felt at this moment. Friends. Admitting that to Caleb had been more embarrassing than if he had just asked to have sex. What a freak.

Lucian was moving through the warehouse where many Fauns were busy moving crates of various decorations and props. He had been told that the supplies for the next challenge were in and were ready for inspection. His steps echoed across the concrete, and despite the noise, he let out a slow breath and enjoyed the absence of the show. No monitors in front of him, no Reyna nagging him from the sidelines, just muted fauns and heavy wooden crates.

The faun in front of him was a particularly obscene-looking female with exaggerated features only covered up by a hard hat, some mirrored sunglasses, and suspenders, an outfit mimicked by most of the fauns on the floor as if it were the set of a hardware-themed porno. The faun led him to a long crate and, with some emphatic gesticulations, reached down and picked up a crowbar before throwing it to the demon.

“The order was filled quick, not that I am surprised, the Harem Hotel supplier is very efficient. Hell could learn a thing or two.” He pressed the crowbar into the gap of the lid and the main section of the crate, and with a minor snapping noise, wrenched the long crate open. The interior was lined with a lot of hay, and he had to dig in to find what he was looking for.

Pulling his hand out, in his hand was an old-fashioned pepperbox. Looking like an old-fashioned revolver, it was made of polished steel with theatrical engravings and oiled wood. He nocked the percussion cap in test, before easing it back down and taking a look at the three-barreled end. He set the pistol down and reached back into the box a found a large case filled with metal balls and what appeared to be a shimmering silver notepad.

After closing the box and setting it down, he looked to the Faun, “Were we able to get the requested Item that the master will be using? I figured it might be a bit more difficult.” The faun seemed to sweat nervously before gesturing back at the box..

Lucian smirked and leaned back into, pushing aside the straw until he found it, “Ah yes,” He retracted his hand a pulled out a long, thin umbrella. He opened it with a quick flick, the spring-loaded mechanism causing it to come out much faster than a normal umbrella. He then flicked his wrist, causing the handle to cock like a pistol before the tip of the umbrella sparked and smoked with a blank fired.

The demon chuckled as he closed it, “Sorry, Dakota, you’ll get it back soon, but I figured you’re not letting the contestant use it anyway. Consider it payment for that mask that went 'missing' from our inventory.” With another light chuckle, he set the umbrella back into the box, “Good, that should be everything aside from the arena all settled, we’ll get that sorted and-” The demon paused, noticing a piece of paper fluttering slightly in the hay.

He lifted it and was surprised to see it was a note addressed to him. He quietly read it out.

Dearest Lucian.
As someone who has had similar done to myself it behooves me to inform you that a portion of your 'backstory' has been broadcast on your season. I implore you to remember this was not done to you at the hands of humans, who are only playing the game you have **** on them, but by the forces that made it possible.
Sincerely Shar.

There was a crackling sound, and the Faun that had been guiding Lucian jumped back as scorching flames erupted from Lucian's form, causing the floor beneath him to crack at the sudden temperature change and scorching the side of the container that he had been inspecting. The edges of his skin were black and ruptured like charcoal, and his mouth fractured into a silent snarl before a hysterical growl roared through the warehouse, sending all the fauns scrambling for cover.

The demon clenched his fist around the note, reducing it to ash in his hand, “Thank you, Shar, for the kindness of informing me.” His eyes closed, and he breathed out, the flames dying down, before surging anew, bright white in Lucian’s grasp as his eyes opened, the cat-like slits of his pupils narrowed to a sharp line. “I will be investigating further and then…and then…everyone involved will pay dearly.”

Throwing his hand, the flames snuffed out at his fingertips as he turned to leave the warehouse. Whoever did this would pay; anyone who saw would pay. Even if he couldn’t scrape it from their minds, he would ensure they never shared it with anyone.

Back at the hotel, Eliza groaned under the comforter. She had it wrapped around her whole body like a cocoon. The air was stuffy as the carbon dioxide she kept exhaling filled the confined space until she eventually had to create a pocket to let fresh air in. She knew it was pathetic hiding in her room like this. She knew that she should get up, get dressed at least. Mira had told her as much before leaving. But without the outside pressure on her, it was just so hard to leave the spot she had grounded herself at.

That was when the knocking started. Gently at first. Then louder, more insistent in rounds of three. Knock-knock-knock, silence. Then again, louder, Knock-knock-knock, silence. Louder still, and then it became a nonstop hammering of knocks. Eliza was covering her ears, trying to pretend it hadn’t happened, but as it pierced through the silence, it became increasingly difficult to ignore until she finally threw off the blanket in frustration.

“Augh! Ok! I’m coming…” She stumbled out of bed and, in total disarray, made her way over to the door as the hammering stopped and opened it to see Noemi standing there. She was wearing glasses and smiling, a book in her opposite hand.

Eliza turned her head to the side and could barely make out the cover on the book and the title that read “Effective Leadership Strategies,” before Noemi gave a big grin and pointed at Eliza, “There you are, just the person I wanted to speak with.”

Looking to either side Eliza wondered who else Noemi could have possibly been looking for in her room when Mira was off on her date, but decided to look past it. “Noemi, I um…appreciate you coming over, but I’m not really up to seeing anyone.” She moved to shut the door only to find Noemi had already thrust her foot forward to keep her from being able to shut it.

“No, Eliza, see that’s what I’m here about.” She pressed her hand on the door and, with a grunt and a hard wrench of her hand, caused the door to swing open out of Eliza’s grasp, loudly clattering against the wall as she pushed forward. Eliza leaned back and stepped away, stunned as the Chilean stepped into the room, “I’m here to fix what’s wrong with you, in five easy steps!”

As Noemi pushed the book forward, Eliza felt her stomach churn in fear of what was about to come.