Chapter 7 by imphic

Are you thirsty?

Player 2 has entered the game

You decide to keep your joe black. Ruth stands up, gives you pecks on your cheeks, and walks back to her booth.

You bring a finger across your chin as you stare at the Rulebook. You consider what safeguards you should put in place. You don't want this falling into the wrong hands. And you don't want your own hands to be the wrong hands and develop a god complex from it; best to stay small ball with it.

"Not bad, for a neophyte, " a honey voice nearby says.

Startled, you look up to see a radiant redhead. She stands tall and elegant in business dress which flatters her hourglass shape. She looks to be in her 20s. Her pale visage holds a poised expression while her hands hold what looks to be a Rulebook.

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"...Thank you," you say after an interminable pause of leering and thinking about what her having another Rulebook could mean.

Her slight smile widens as she walks over take her coffee from the counter without taking her big eyes off of you. Your already bemused face becomes what would technically be described as WTF. The baristas and customers seem to be manquinning.

"Mmm..." the redhead cooes while teasing the nipple ring of an nonreactive buxom black server. "I never liked most cafes ambience," she adds and sips her drink. She takes out of her bag an electronic scrambler, activates it, and sets it on the counter.

You frown, realizing you've allowed this ginger too much power in the situation. Yor glance at your pencil and the Rulebook.

"I wouldn't," she warns in a casual tone. "But it's you choice." She sips again.

Your throat is a desert as you decided.