Tiny comforts.

Gears ground against one another, and with the use of pattern recognition, extrapolation of possible outcomes and good, old-fashioned trial and error, John solved his way through a series of puzzles. Machines whirred and sorted trace elements into completed compounds that burned as fuel for the greater engine he constructed. All so he could maneuver a marble across the screen by means of a MacGyvered thruster. It took a special kind of determination to turn a simple task into nearly literal rocket science. John loved every minute of it.

After everything he’d been through in the last half-week, returning to his element felt natural. It was a relief to be able to fail without consequence and see an immediate positive return on his success. It was hard to tell if he was winning the ‘Great Game’ or, if the feeling he couldn’t shake was true: ‘He’d already lost.’

John hesitated in the middle of the puzzle he was working on and pressed pause, leaning back from the computer to turn in his chair and look at his bed. The sheets were still soaked with the water he’d brought back from the everdeep and he hadn’t bothered to remove the laser-cut armor from it. They lay there as symbols of his mixed failure and success, and he stared at them as he contemplated his current reality.

An unfortunate side effect of puzzle games: they got his brain moving…

I let myself get overconfident today, and it almost killed me. It’s not the only mistake I’ve made recently either. I’ve been extremely lucky, which is the only reason my recklessness has paid off. I assumed my powers could get me out of anything, so I got blindsided by a curse that rationally is the first thing I’d throw at a mage if I could. There’s so little I actually know about magic; I don’t know how it functions or how normal people learn it, but they definitely don’t just pick up spells and instinctively know how to use them like I do. I’m cheating.

John focused on that word. ‘Cheating.’ He’d done it in games before, who hadn’t? A certain boss seems impossible so you use an exploit to hit it from a space it can’t reach or you pack a wheelbarrow so full of explosives it could level a continent and then throw it at the boss during a conversation and watch him get engulfed by a miniature sun. He didn’t feel the least bit guilty about having done it, but there was something that realization solidified.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Cheaters never develop proper mastery of the game mechanics in the games they play. The same advantage that allows them to exploit a system means they never are reliant on learning how to play within the rules that govern it. That was what he’d done so far.

He’d assumed that every time he was pushed into a corner that his powers would create a solution, because they had and could. Then he’d been nearly stripped of all of them and **** to run and hide for his life. It’d been a sobering experience, and since he’d survived it, John was grateful for the rude awakening.
I need to build on the fundamentals I’m missing. Yes, I can fight, but that doesn’t mean I know how to pull off my rotation or position myself correctly. I’m basically playing a boosted character right now and trying to raid on it. I need to spend some time in the Training Grounds and brush up on my Abyssal knowledge, badly. Something to talk to Erica about.

A cold wind blew in through the broken window and John glanced from it to the mess his return home had left behind. He should probably clean it up before his mother got home. Assuming she did today…

With a sigh, the Gamer stood up and walked over to his bed to transfer the ruined armor to his inventory. Hopefully he’d be able to use Forge to repair it. If not… well, it was probably time to look into better equipment anyway. The auction should have several pieces for sale or improved materials to use in crafting. He’d take a look after he dealt with the problem right in front of him.

John peeled the sea-salt soaked sheets from his mattress and bundled them up, deciding against using his inventory to carry them downstairs. It felt right to put in the effort. The cold weight was a good reminder that he needed to try to get himself more in shape. He couldn’t always rely on magic to solve his problems. It took a bit to remember where the laundry detergent was, but he eventually found it underneath the sink and got the machine running. The spin cycle warmed up and John watched it for a few moments before turning to wash the residual salt water off his arms.

The hot water almost burned his skin, but he sighed happily as he felt it sweep away the last traces of the Everdeep. He spent a couple minutes just enjoying the warmth before wiping down the reddened skin and grabbing new sheets to carry back to his room.

Halfway there, he stopped on the upstairs landing. The sounds of the game he’d been playing were coming from his room, but John didn’t remember ever unpausing it. He shoved the bundle of cloth he was carrying into his inventory and called out his weapon in its place, slowly creeping down the hall as quietly as he could. When he reached his room, John tensed up and glanced inside.

“Why is this stupid thing so heavy!”

A small girl with wings was doing her best to use his mouse, despite it being almost half her size. She’d managed to alt-tab out of his game and opened the file search function on his computer. John stared at Adorabelle in confusion. Why was she here, and what was she looking for?

He tensed and readied himself to lunge at her… but something held him back.

Relax. Not everyone is out to get me. Especially not my friends. There’s got to be an explanation for this.

“C’mon… you have to have the goods here somewhere. Where is it…” She had to hug the mouse to slide it around and the action looked utterly ridiculous.

John cleared his throat and stepped into the room, “Alright. What do you think you’re doing?”

The fae moved in a blur and slammed one hand down on his F4 key while her foot kicked Alt, then she rolled over and tried to pose while laying on the keyboard. She suppressed a wince at how uncomfortable it was and said, “Hey, fuckboy…”

“Why were you messing with my computer?” John ignored her clumsy attempt at misdirection, crossing his arms and giving the pixie a look.

“I was not! I was just… uh… checking it! This metal box was making strange noises and I didn’t know what it was. Cumpooter,” she mispronounced it in such an intentionally wrong way that John had to stifle a smile. “That’s a strange word.”

Right, and I’m a seven-foot-tall crocodile with a fetish for feathered dragons.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He raised an eyebrow, “You’ve never heard of or worked a computer ever before and have no idea how human technology works… except for the part where you’re lying and you know exactly what Alt-F4 does. Be straight with me, Adorabelle.”

Please don’t be doing anything bad…

Conflict wrestled in the fae’s expression, but she eventually threw her hands up in the air, “Fine! I was trying to find your porn! Happy now? Jeeze, you were a lot more polite last night, but I guess that’s just cause you finally managed to talk someone into your bed! Fucking pervert…”

John stared at the hypocritical little pixie with a laugh bubbling up from his chest. The insulted look on Adorabelle’s face only drew out an even heartier chuckle. He felt tears forming as she gave him a cute pout and fluttered off the keyboard in a puff of sparkling glitter.

“What’re you laughing at? Stop it. Stop it!” she demanded, flailing at his general direction. “It’s not funny!”

“You’re right. It’s hilarious,” John managed to wrangle his amusement enough to speak, wiping tears from his eyes. “Thanks. I needed that.” He exhaled and drew himself together, growing serious again, “So, why are you here?”

Adorabelle gave him a confused look, “What do you mean? You’re the one who called me here, you jackass! You tell me!”

I did?

“I was just minding my own business trying to do my job. Have you got any idea what Titania is like?” She rolled her eyes and put on a hoity toity fake voice, “‘Oh, Adorabelle, darling! I heard you made a new friend, is he nice? When will I get to meet him? Does he like flowers? What kind of mortal is he?’ For fuck’s sake! I’m not getting married, ‘Mom’!”

John could sympathize with the idea of an overbearing, if well meaning, mother. He winced and nodded. “That sounds like a pain.”

“Does it? No way! That alcoholic biddy’s been insufferable about our relationships ever since Oberon ran off with Aurora and got turned into a stag. Live vicariously through someone else!”

“Turned into a stag?”

Adorabelle’s expression fell and she seemed more serious than he’d seen her, except maybe for when she’d watched Vanessa’s horrible footage with him. She hesitated, “Yes. He was butchered and served up at a diplomatic dinner brokered between the courts. Titania might be obnoxious and a wino but Aurora is a fucking monster. She strung him along and then murdered him for a laugh. There wasn’t even a point to it. Crazy bitch started a war for fun, as a joke.”

Jesus christ.

Every time John was adapting to the Abyss and thought things were normalizing, life threw another curveball. As bad as Mrs. Wentworth was, she didn’t kill for fun. That was the kind of thing that Vanessa would enjoy… John was glad she was dead. He was less enthusiastic that he felt that way. Celebrating someone’s **** felt wrong.

“His imperious horned ass should’ve known better,” Adorabelle said with a shrug. “Now he’s dead. There’ll be another one in a couple decades anyway. Titania’s too lonely to leave his Mantle lying around.”

John wasn’t sure what to make of that. Any of it. This was a topic that felt above his station and like it had a very long story behind it… so he archived the question for later. “Alright, but what do you mean by ‘you called me here’? I don’t remember doing that.”

“Really.” The fae fluttered closer and spread her arms, gesturing at herself, “You don’t remember the part where you thought that your life would be infinitely improved with the presence of yours fucking truly? Cause you did. Turns out one of the features of our stupid contract is that anytime you bitch and moan about me not being around I feel it!” She refused to meet his look and her cheeks burned a bright crimson, “I was just going to ignore the whole thing, but no… Someone with relationship issues insisted I come and visit.”

It wasn’t hard to tell the fae wasn’t being entirely honest, and the way she attempted to cover her feelings didn’t work when she kept glancing back at him with a worry-tinged look. John smiled.

Aw, that’s cute. She’s…

“You were worried about me.”

Adorabelle’s hair was literally raised by a tiny flurry of wind. “I was not!” she protested. “She… I… was just… uh… looking after my interests! You still owe me!”

“Right, right. Sure. So, want me to even up your tab?” John asked with a grin. His two sojourns to Ulthar had taught him more than he’d ever thought existed about **** and he’d picked up the skill to mix a few simple recipes that the liquor downstairs would match nicely. “I’m pretty sure I could brew you up a martini or something.”

“No…” the fae looked down at her feet with a pout.

“How about some Arcadian Shalebuzz Rum then?” he dangled the name of the most expensive barrel from the tavern in front of his guest. This time, Adorabelle’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of thirsty greed.

“You have some? Really? How?” In her eagerness, she had to wipe away a little drool from the corner of her mouth, “They don’t let just anyone buy it! I heard you have to either be obscenely wealthy or have serious connections to land a meeting with one of the vinters...” The fae trailed off and her expression fell.

“Of course. You’re just pulling my stem, aren’t you, fuckboy? There’s no way you’d have that kind of… Shalebuzz… Ha, ha. Very funny.” Adorabelle narrowed her eyes and gave him an angry glare, kicking her feet in his direction. “Jerk.”

Holy shit, I thought that stuff was just an expensive vintage. How the hell did Bearnard get us three barrels?

“No, I’m really not. I uh… I own a bar.”

“What? In your dreams, maybe.”

Technically correct, which is the best kind of correct.

John shrugged and reached out to pull his desk chair over, sitting in it as he tried to figure out how to best explain the situation. It seemed crazy. “Kinda, yeah. I own a bar in this city, Ulthar. It’s in a place called the Dreamlands, so I can only visit it when I’m sleeping… Hold on, I bought it last night. Don’t you remember?”

“No!” The fae girl stared at him with a look that was quickly turning into one of jealousy, “I feel like I’d remember the part where you went, ‘Oh hey, I’m going to buy a lifetime’s supply of booze in cat hell, how do you feel about that idea?’ Which, by the way, didn’t happen!”

That’s strange. I had to have bought it around then… ah well, must’ve been after she went to sleep.

“Well, I own a bar now. I hired a barkeep too; his name’s Bearnard.”

“Oh. Well that was a good idea. He’s a big, old, cuddly bear, right?”

It was John’s turn to be astounded, “How the hell do you know that?”

Adorabelle shrugged with a smile. He knew that smile, it was the expression of a person who was not about to answer the question and knew exactly how much it annoyed the asker. John sighed. He kind of deserved it.

“Whatever, fine. It’s called the Crossroad Tavern. As long as you don’t drink me out of business, you’re welcome to have drinks for free anytime you stop by. We’ve got a few barrels of that rum and some other rare stuff.”

The fae’s jaw dropped, “No fuckery? You’re serious?”

“Why not?” John shrugged. How bad could it be?

“Deal!”

The air buzzed with energy and John felt a part of himself reach out to encircle the pixie, entwining her energy with his. Something filled within him and a window popped up.

You have repaid your debt to Adorabelle of the Summer Court.

While John contemplated what had just happened, his guest whirled around him in circles, burning off her excitement, “Wooo!” She spun with a shower of sparkles and landed on his desk in a puff of glitter, brushing herself down. “Fuck yes, I’m getting smashed on the good stuff!”

“Right now?”

“Winter’s chill, no!” Adorabelle rolled her eyes in such a dramatic fashion she managed to make it visible on her tiny form. “Not after coming all this way. Do I look like I’m made of teleportation bullshit?” There was a hint of misdirection in her words and John saw straight through the fae’s attempt to cover up her true feelings. She caught the way he was smirking at her and blushed, “Stop that! Don’t I get a welcoming gift or something? Be Hospitable and offer me a drink!”

John diplomatically decided not to comment on the fact his guest was an incorrigible alcoholic.