The hotel restaurant was designed like an auditorium. Tables and chairs rose to the back, balconies housed VIPs, and a stage stood in the centre. I wasn’t even sure where the kitchen was, but there were waiters going around taking orders.
I put a strawberry in my mouth and studied the sweaty comedian on stage. She wasn’t getting many laughs. Frankly, no one was paying attention to her; they were chatting amongst themselves, and the waiters running around didn’t help.
Nikola was acting strangely. She stared at the ceiling, brows furrowed, tongue protruding at an angle, pen tapping a scrap of paper on the table… She paused her thoughts to shove a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Mumbling something, she scribbled on the piece of paper. I didn’t even know she was literate, but there she was, writing! At least, that’s what it looked like…
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Hmm…” She scribbled and slowly answered, “Halit wants me to write him letters.”
“Oh. I should write one too.” I thought of Sterling and Otto.
She nodded. “You really should. He was pretty cross when I told him I forgot.”
“So, what are you writing about?”
“Nothing much, just everything I already told him yesterday.” She sighed. “He wants me to write them again. Men.” She grumbled.
“Told him?” My eyebrow arched. “Told him yesterday? How did you do that?”
“He called me.”
“What?”
“You should’ve told me it rings. It felt so weird - ringing in my head.” She shook her head. “I thought I was going crazy. I still don’t know how I connected. How do you connect?”
“Connect what?”
“The message scroll. How do you connect when they call?” She questioned as she scribbled.
A creeping doubt widened my eyes. “Wait, what message scroll? Where did he get the message scroll from?” Well, he could’ve bought one…
“He used the one you gave us, duh.” She arrogantly stated what I feared.
“He used one of the message scrolls I made!?” I growled.
“Yeah.”
“Wha- wha- what!? Does he know how expensive those are!? How rare they are!? You can’t buy them. They’re the only ones that can reach us in a  dungeon! And he used them to talk to you!?” The words foamed out my mouth. I’d made several scrolls over the last few months and had given a few to the boys… But they were meant to be used in an emergency! Scrolls that can connect long distances and reach into the dungeons are rare and should never be used to just talk.
“Wait, he used the scrolls you made?” Terrie was listening and realised why I was angry.
“What’s the big deal?” Nikola asked, as inept as ever. “He said he wanted to hear my voice.” She smiled.
“Because it’s meant for emergencies! Not chitchat!”
Terrie poked my shoulder and said, “I know you’re upset, but…” Heads were turned toward us.
I almost yelled at them but decided to ignore them. Pointing at her letter, I grunted, “Tell him not to use any more scrolls.”
“Ah?”
“Write it in capital letters! Tell him: no more scrolls!”
“Fuck.” She pushed my hand away. “Okay.”
“No more scrolls.” I frowned.
“Okay. Here,” she exhaled, “Sherrie’s being a bitch.” She spoke every word she wrote. Her annoyance ripe in her tone. “Don’t use scrolls.”  Stabbing the period at the end of the sentence with poignance, she asked, “There! Happy!”
“Hmm…”

***

After breakfast, I went to the city park. There he was, playing chess like usual, looking as handsome as ever. His cotton candy eyes focused on the game.
Muire was playing against him. The weight of her chin in her palm. Though a soft smile lifted the corners of her lips, she didn’t look very happy, her eyes admiring his looks instead of the game. And, unexpectedly, she seemed relieved to see me.
“Oh, you’re here again.” She cheered up. “Here, you can have my seat.”  She didn’t want to play against him. That was understandable; he was never happy with people who beat him. It’s never a good idea to play him if you want to stay on his good side.
“You’re quitting?” He scowled.
“Yeah, you can play against her.” She said.
I took the seat while eyeing him with a frown. He noticed my unhappiness and said, “I can’t sneak out. And I barely know you.”
“What?” Muire was confused.
“Nothing.” I was shocked that he said it out loud. Is he trying to get me killed! “Nothing, just… Let’s play a new game.” I helped him rearrange the pieces, wiping away the beads of sweat forming on my brow.

Muire stood beside him the whole time. So I didn’t have many opportunities to flirt with him. And I didn’t have any more plans. All I could do was follow the script and try to lose… In the game, I could lose to him after a few tries, but that was after years of practice… “Hmm…”
It was annoying, but over and over again, whenever I thought I was getting close, he’d ejaculate, “Ah, I lost!” And proceeded to show me an obvious way to beat him.
And I’d say, “Right.” And rearrange the pieces to start a new game.

The twilight hour was upon us, the sky a violet-red. We played our last game for the day.
“It’s time to head back.” Muire urged him.
“Wait.” He shooed her words away. “This is close.”
This was the longest game we’d ever played. From the looks of it, it seemed we were close to a draw. Which wasn’t enough to get a date, but I tried my best to lose regardless.
Then when it was my turn, Muire quickly grabbed my knight and moved it for me. “There.” She said. “You lost. Now let’s go home.”
“What?” He was confused.
An exhausted sigh fell out of her mouth. “Look. You only have two options. To move the queen here or here.” She demonstrated. “Either way, she can move her king and mate you.”
“Oh, you’re right.” He moped. His hopes for a draw were dashed. A claw of sadness scarred his beautiful face. My nostrils flared, brows furrowed. I grunted at her. She ignored me. With a sad sigh, he gathered  up the pieces for the night.
“We’ll play again tomorrow,” I promised him. I had no other options; I’ll have to play him till I lose. I wasn’t going to pass up on 52000 points.
He nodded, “Okay.”

***

Brigitte came out of the shower, ready for another night of bar hopping. I, too, was prepared to head to a bar.
“You’re going out.” She stated.
“Yeah,” I confirmed, stuffing the magic snorkel in my coat and putting the deception ring on my finger. The deception ring will deceive anyone below level 50. If they try to read my level, they should think I’m level 15. I made it to fool the ringmaster, but I saw no harm in putting it on now; you never know who might be at the bar.
“Where are you going?” She asked.
“The Fat Fish.”
“Oh, I was thinking of going there.” She nodded.
“You were?” An eyebrow arched. “Do you know what kind of bar it is?”
“What kind?” She was confused. Of course, she didn’t know. Why would she? “Well, I heard it serves mermaid cuisine. So it might be expensive.” She whistled.
So she was hoping to get a free meal out of me. “Alright, let’s go together.”

***

Lake Effiy was a tiny saltwater lake densely forested by bubble-tip bushes. They swayed in the breeze. Brigitte plucked off a stem from one of the bushes we passed and squeezed the bubbled tip. It popped, releasing weightless orange seeds that drifted off with the wind. She made a play of grabbing the stems as we walked down the gravel steps to the bar. Popping them above her head, she let the feathery seeds float away.
The bar was large and wooden. The back of the bar was partially submerged in water. A big sign hung over the front doors, saying, The Fat Fish. And thanks to mechanical magic, a seductive neon merman danced beside the sign.

Smiling men and smiling women. Classical music soothed our ears. The bar was elegant yet rough. Paintings of famous women hung on the walls, their autographs scribbled somewhere. The head of a golden fleeced bear hung above the counter, and next to it was a plaque that read, ‘Top 100 Bars  in Minkin 360.’
The moment we reached the counter, Brigitte leaned over to the bartender and whispered, “She’ll pick up the tab.” And pointing her thumb at me, she questioned with a meaningful squint of the eye, “Right?”
The brown-haired bartender’s apathetic eyes regarded me. I nodded. “Yeah. You can put her bill with mine.”
“Thanks.” She patted my shoulder with a smile and said, “Okay, I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“It’s at the back.” The bartender pointed to the back of the bar. “Not the black door. The white doors. Read the sign.” Eyeing me, she mumbled, “No one ever reads the sign.”
“Got it!” Brigitte saluted as she walked between a line of stools on one end and cushioned chairs and tables on the other.
I took a seat at the counter. And the bartender asked, “So, can I get you a drink?”
“Yes. Hull whisky with coke - half and half. 3 drops of tangerine lemon. And a bowl of sweet Pomeranian pecan.”
Suddenly her eyes shifted around, and she regarded me with suspicion. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “On the rocks?”
“Yes. 2 and a half cubes. Please.”
Her eyes widened, and leaning over, she sniffed me… “But you’re human. What kind of ice?”
“Yes, is that a problem? Southern.”
“How can a human know the…”
“Code.” I finished the sentence for her. “This location was recommended to me by a friend. Honestly, I’m glad. I don’t have to go all the way to  the sea.”
“A friend?”
“Yes, a friend.” For a brief moment, our gazes were locked. But I didn’t have time to waste, so I asked, “Is the boss in. I’m a customer.” She scrunched up half her face, and stroking her chin, she scrutinised me. “I get that I’m a gorgeous woman, but how long are you going to stare?”
“Pft.” She spat out air. “Let me go talk to my… supervisor.” She walked off a corner.
I looked around at the people in the bar. A pretty boy flashed me a smile. I smiled back.
Maybe after I take care of business, I’ll get something to squeeze for the night.