Come up with an excuse.

"Oh yeah, I found this downstairs..." you start as your mind races for some plausible explanation. You grudgingly reveal the portable drive to the blonde. "I... didn't know what was on here so I didn't want to throw it into the junk or sell pile."

Stacy snatches the drive from you and looks it over. You can't tell whether she recognizes it for what it is or not, but she doesn't look like she wants to let it go. She scrutinizes you with narrowed eyes for a painstaking minute as her fingers play with the device. You do your best not to look guilty.

Finally, Stacy says, "I'll hold onto this, thanks."

You exhale softly and feel your body deflate the tension that had been building up. There is a knock on the door and a switch goes off in Stacy's head. "Alright, time to go!" she announced, shoving you and Amina towards the door.

"What? You don't want to introduce us to your friend?" you tease, feeling more in control of the situation now.

"It's none of your business, now get out!" Stacy say, opening the door.

"Oh, hello!" says an elderly gentleman standing behind the door. Dressed in a casual t-shirt with a pocketed vest on top, dark glasses and khaki pants, he looks like he is coming off of a Sunday stroll in the park. This is the type that Stacy is into?

"Hi there," you reply, stunned. "You're Stacy's 'friend'?"

"It's not like that, you jerk," Stacy intercedes. She is flustered and can't even look you straight in the eye anymore. "This is... uh.... Professor Lindeman... he's helping me... with a special project..."

"Uh... yes yes..." Lindeman chimes in, "My friend here needed some... well, I came with a new batch of... supplies for you..."

Your senses tell you that something seems off about this conversation and you eye the two suspiciously.

"Out now!" Stacy orders you and Amina while brusquely shoving you out the door. You barely have time to turn around before Professor Lindeman and Stacy are out of sight behind the closed door.

"Did you find that odd?" you ask Amina.

"They seemed to be hiding something," Amina concurs.

"Yeah... but what...?"

"I would assume something illicit."

"So they are definitely banging..." you nod conclusively. "I could use that against her, but I'd need proof. Maybe we could wait for them to finish and pressure the guy to spill... How long do you suppose an old man like that could last?"

"Uh master? I don't think they are actually having sex..."

"You think it's some sort of kinky fetish thing? That would explain why she didn't want to talk about it..."

"No, I mean, I think that man is selling her ****..."

Suddenly, the strange disconnect of Stacy being into that old man washes away with that epiphany! "Of course! There's no way she's into old guys... that explains everything! Well, no the fact that I'm not her type, but it explains a lot," you surmise. "Plus, if I threaten to tell her mom about the **** thing, she'll back off making me do stuff for her."

"But master..." Amina says meekly, "shouldn't you be stopping this?"

"What do you mean? It's her life, she can do what she pleases, it's not harming anyone else."

"She's harming herself and those that care about her, aren't you her friend?"

"The only things she's done to me this year are mock me for losing my clothes and **** me to clean up her storage room. That's hardly the friendliest of relationships..."

"You helped me, when we first met, even though you didn't know me..." Amina points out. You did do that, against that thug that was chasing her. Is this so different?