Date 5: Interlude

Laurel watched Joan ramble as the two-and-a-half contestants sat in the library.

Joan was a cute little thing, but cute was dangerous. Cute made you start imagining someone as a person instead of a pawn, and that was dangerous for everyone.

At least Joan felt normal to her.

Laurel sat opposite the chair where the two bodies—one in a copy of Chloe’s form and the other in what looked like Alan’s wet dream—were wedged together, holding hands like they were daring the universe to object. Joan's wet dream body talked as if she could solve her life by thinking hard enough.

“But like… girls don’t like trans women, usually,” Joan sighed. “It always felt fake. I wasn’t a girl and… you can tell. You can tell when they’re humoring you.”

Joan’s gaze dropped to their clasped hands.

“And if you’re a bisexual guy—” Joan made a face, like even saying it was stepping into a trap. “A lot of women act like that’s… contamination. Like it means you’re not really theirs. Like you’re a threat.”

They swallowed.

“So either I find a one-in-a-million situation—Nicole Maines tier girlfriend is somehow mine—or I try to date guys and deal with all that bullshit, or I just… stop trying and let the loneliness win.”

“You absolutely need to get laid,” Laurel said, cutting in so cleanly it felt like a mercy.

Joan blinked, stunned into silence.

Laurel leaned back, stretching her legs out like she owned the place and daring the hotel to argue.

“You think way too much,” Laurel continued. “You’re cute, you’re single, you’re not a sociopath, and you’re not his mother. That’s already better than me, the creepy twins, or the giant snake.”

Joan’s mouth opened, the Chloe mimic this time, and closed like they couldn’t find the correct response key.

Laurel kept going, because she’d never been good at stopping once she started.

“Your roommate’s only a problem if Alan can’t ignore that she’s a divorced single mom pretending to be his age with black magic.”

Joan’s faces went blank. “What’s wrong with the twins?”

Laurel exhaled through her nose.

“One’s a walking corpse,” she said. “The other is either a spy or a trauma grenade with legs. Christian might get her shit together eventually, but Chloe’s dead in the water with the Audience.”

Laurel paused, then added, almost thoughtfully:

“And getting your shit together on Harem Hotel is unlikely, to say the least.”

Joan looked down. “I think he likes the giant snake.”

“Sure,” Laurel said. “He thinks she’s cool.”

She leaned forward slightly. “What have you learned about Crawlers, after spending a few days as one?”

Joan’s voice softened. The Chloe-bodied version of them spoke first, wistful.

“Um. They’re fun. It’s… so easy in a Crawler body. Everything is… stable. Strong. You don’t feel fragile.”

“Yeah,” Laurel admitted. “They are.”

Her smile flickered. She looked pleased despite herself.

“Ari was a great little devil. She figured out shit I wouldn’t have guessed. She’s not built for romance, though.”

Joan blinked. “Elaborate.”

“Oh, you didn’t realize?” Laurel’s smile sharpened. This was a fun topic when she didn’t let it get too serious. “Ariadne’s bloodline is young, but the model is old,” Laurel said. “It’s basically an upgrade to a eunuch.”

Joan’s brows rose on both faces.

“Ancient warlords needed someone trustworthy around heirs and harems,” Laurel said, voice turning lecture-y in the way she did when she was enjoying herself. “Historically, that meant cutting off someone’s nuts and calling it security.”

She shrugged.

“Morale issues. Trauma issues. Revolts. You get it.”

“And then someone got clever,” Laurel continued. “A big, friendly snake body solves a lot. Giant snakes need a human protector if you don’t want angry mobs with torches. So they stay close to the warlord, the king, the person with an army and a narrative. They’re amazing guards and terrible cavalry. They can’t replace their masters even if they wanted to, and they're great with kids.”

Joan frowned. “I don’t get the last part.”

“They can’t trip,” Laurel said, like it was obvious.

Joan stared.

“Anything else that big can stumble,” Laurel said, impatient now. “Fall on a kid. Kill them without meaning to. Sorcerers learned the hard way that centaurs and wolves are cute until they’re not. A giant snake in tight spaces is efficient, hard to fight, and doesn’t accidentally crush toddlers.”

She paused, eyes narrowing.

“And they can’t hide if they bolt. Too weird. Too noticeable. You can’t disappear a ten-foot talking serpent. That’s the point.”

Joan absorbed that with slow discomfort.

“I would have thought children would be scared,” Joan said finally.

“Small children have no survival instinct,” Laurel replied. “Some get scared, sure, but a talking monster is interesting. They mostly want to touch it. They mostly want to climb it.”

Laurel’s smirk returned.

“Moms freak the fuck out. That’s different. And honestly? It’s kind of funny.”

Joan’s shoulders tightened. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“C’mon,” Laurel said, and her tone went unexpectedly protective. She had forgotten how much this annoyed her. “Why would Ariadne ever hurt a kid? It’s insane. You piss off the humans, you lose your only plausible cover story, and you get hunted. Also, children are a terrible food source. Slow to grow. Slow to reproduce. And we humans kill predators who target us.”

Joan made a small noise.

“Ariadne’s gut is built for plants,” Laurel continued. “Cellulose. Lignin. Seaweed. Carrion, if she’s ****. Weird shit. Her dad’s amazing with human kids.”

Joan shook their head, still uneasy. “I get your logic. It still feels terrifying. Ariadne around my little sister is… not a comforting image.”

Laurel’s expression went flat. Her voice dropped.

“Do you have any idea how many normal adults around children are threats?” she asked.

Joan swallowed.

“Laurel—”

“No,” Laurel said, sharper. “Listen.”

She closed her eyes, rummaging through memories like she was pulling a knife out of a drawer.

“The world is full of people who look safe,” Laurel said. “And institutions that protect themselves before they protect kids. Animals with fingernails are a bigger threat, because they know they're playing the game."

She opened her eyes again.

“I’m not saying the number.” Laurel’s jaw tightened. "Scandals pop up like mold. And everyone acts surprised every single time. You think the Church, or the Boy Scouts, are the exception? Nobody's looked at every public school, because someone has to watch the kids while parents are at work."

Joan’s face had gone pale. That was more noticeable on the face Alan had asked for, as Chloe's skin tone was darker.

“H… holy shit.”

Laurel shrugged, as if she hadn’t just dropped a brick into the room.

“Yeah. The world sucks. We should burn it down,” she said lightly. “Win Harem Hotel and wish for fire. Problem solved.”

She grinned because she couldn’t help herself.

“Sorry. We got distracted.”

Laurel tilted her head, appraising Joan again, as if returning to the original topic with clinical focus.

“I think we were talking about how to make my biological son ignore that you used to be a dude?”

Joan’s face went bright red.

“That seems like a much less creepy subject,” they managed, “yeah.”