“That’s, uh,” Zoey said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Your class, you mean.”

“Yeah. My class.”

“Don’t tell me you’re uncomfortable with the idea of ‘bonding’ another girl.” Seeing Rosalie, so typically stoic, air-quote and sneer the phrase was a bit funny. “You’ve fucked—how many girls in the past twenty four hours? Me, the slime creature, the attendant, and I saw you eying both Fe and Sabina. You aren’t remotely subtle. I’m surprised Anja was safe. This is where you draw the line?”

“No,” Zoey said, ignoring Rosalie’s accusations, “I meant, are we even sure I can bond to more than one person? Or would it break yours?”

“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

“I guess. I’m just—” she cut herself off.

“Say it.”

“Never mind.”

“Say it, Zoey.”

Zoey waved her hand, starting to blush. “It’s nothing.”

Rosalie stopped walking and crossed her arms. “If we’re going to be party-members, you will voice your opinion on team decisions.”

“I was looking forward to it just being us, okay?” Zoey flushed. “I thought we were going to, you know. Have some time together. Just us. For a bit longer.”

Whatever Rosalie had expected, it hadn’t been that. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, which was a distinctly not-Rosalie reaction.

“Like I said, it was stupid.”

“This—this isn’t a vacation, Zoey.”

“I know.”

“A functional party fills every role. We’ll get more done. And it’ll diffuse your lack of experience.”

“It makes sense. I know.”

Rosalie opened her mouth a few times, as if to push the point, but Zoey had agreed with everything. 

She huffed and turned back forward.

“We’ll … we’ll have ‘us’ time between shards,” Rosalie mumbled, almost quiet enough Zoey couldn’t hear. 

“What?”

Rosalie stalked forward. “We’ll be looking for a guardian, striker, or another lancer. At this advancement, even a half-role support is enough—so you have that filled. I can fill either offense or defense, so I want a teammate specialized in one or the other. I’ll lean heavier into whatever they don’t.”

“Is that the standard strategy?”

“There is no standard strategy. Team composition isn’t a solved science. Opinions vary. I told you mine.”

“Well, yours is the best out there, I’m assuming.”

“Mmm,” Rosalie said, not outright agreeing, but both of them knowing it was true. “Still. It might take some searching to find a good fit.”

“Just one more? So three of us?”

“For now.”

“How big do parties get?”

“Five is ideal.”

“For all advancements? Now, or later on?”

“All advancements. But it’s a question with a lot of variability. I’m already generalizing. I was doing fine solo. Some classes can. Some classes—boosters, the obvious one—can’t. Five members provides a balance between sharing loot and tackling shards smaller parties can’t.”

“So why are we going with three?”

“Because five is a headache,” Rosalie said flatly. “Even two is a headache, so far.”

“Hey.”

“Are you denying it?”

Zoey had been an annoyance for Rosalie, all things considered. “It’s still not very nice.”

“I’m not very nice.”

“Bullshit,” Zoey said. “You’re a sweetheart.”

“And you have an addled brain, if you think that.”

“You’ve got a hard exterior, but gooey insides. You didn’t have me fooled for a second.”

Rosalie pointedly ignored her, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed how Zoey’s words had worked. 

They arrived at the LFG board. 

Zoey’s eyes scanned the hundreds of listings crammed on the expansive pinboard. The papers tacked in were short, functional, and informative. Standardized. Name, advancement, role, availability, and finally, a short description where they discussed what they were looking for, and any other relevant information.

Rosalie pulled out a notebook and started writing. “Girls only, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Zoey hesitated before her next words, knowing they were stupid. But she couldn’t help herself. “This is weird. It feels like we’re looking for someone to have a threesome with.”

Rosalie went stiff. A disbelieving expression turned, slowly, to face her.

“Doesn’t it?” Zoey asked.

“Unbelievable,” Rosalie said. 

###

Rosalie worked fast. She collected a smattering of potential candidates and got to work tracking them down. The guildhall receptionist helped point them in the right direction.

They barely got more than a few sentences into Rosalie’s first interrogation before Rosalie was shaking her head and stalking away. Zoey shot an apologetic look to a bewildered flame-woman.

“What the hell was that?” Zoey asked, jogging to catch up.

“Inadequate.”

“Why?”

“Second advancement in three months? No.”

“That’s bad?”

“It’s average.”

“... and average is bad.”

“Average is horrendous.”

“We can be that picky?”

“I’ll resort to a duo before we settle for a dead-end.”

Truth told, Zoey was feeling like the dead-end, right about now. She’d been pretty useless in the first shard, and without a chance to have practiced, she’d be useless going into the second. At least she had the ‘identify weakness’ skill from her second advancement on her Rune of Sensuality, so she could be marginally more helpful, but still. Her partner was quite clearly the creme de la crop, and Zoey was …

Zoey.

Promising only because she’d had an amazing class thrust onto her. Didn’t feel great.

“Still. I don’t think you should’ve been so rude.”

“We’re on a schedule. I’m not going to conduct a full interview when I know my answer.”

“You could’ve told her why.”

“That would have been rude. Better she think me odd, than for me to berate her for being average.”

That was … actually a fair point. Rosalie was being considerate—in a roundabout way—by stalking away and not listing out a person’s deficiencies. And not even deficiencies, but simply how they failed to meet Rosalie’s excruciating expectations.

“Besides,” Rosalie said, “I’m not sure having sex with a solar is something you want to be doing on the regular.”

She tucked away the race name for the floating flame-people. “I mean,” Zoey said. “I’ll try anything once. Who knows? Maybe it’d be fun.”

“They don’t even have sex organs,” Rosalie said. “And yes, they’re as hot as they look.” She shook her head and stalked forward. “But knowing you, you would enjoy it.”

“Nothing a bit of burn cream couldn’t fix,” Zoey grinned.

The second, third, and fourth interviews—interrogations—went in a similar manner. It wasn’t until the fifth that Rosalie’s questions extended past opening pleasantries.

“And you?” the fox-woman—Delta—returned.

“Four weeks.”

Delta whistled. “Damn, blondie. You had your nose to the grindstone. That’s fast.”

Zoey stayed quiet, absorbing the easy lie that had slipped from Rosalie’s lips. She had told Zoey it had taken her two weeks to hit second advancement—or less, since two weeks was simply how long she’d been in the Fractures. And four was fast? Enough to draw out an impressed whistle from someone Rosalie herself saw as a potential teammate?

Her partner was more competent than she’d thought. Competent enough she needed to lie to avoid drawing attention. Well-known enough she gave fake names to guildhall receptionists.

Who was she, really?

Not that if she was some famous figure, Zoey would know the name. Alien world, and all.

“I set a quick pace,” Rosalie said. “You would be expected to match it.”

“Sure,” Delta returned easily. “Not tryna toil in obscurity, forever. I’m taking it you’re shooting for the big leagues?”

“I have no intention of living a safe and easy life.”

Delta laughed. “Right. So, shards. What advancement? Third? How many you putting together?”

“Second will be fine,” Rosalie said. “We’re staying small. You’ll be our third, and last.”

“And who’s this?”

“Zoey,” Zoey offered. She’d been trailing behind Rosalie for the better part of an hour, and she’d prefer to regain some agency, because as things stood, it felt a bit like she was a lost child following meekly behind Rosalie. She’d said maybe a dozen words to their potentials. “It’s nice to meet you.”

They had found the fox-woman at the bar of the guildhall, working her way through a tankard of what Zoey assumed to be alcohol. She didn’t seem drunk, or even flushed. She was leaned back on the chair far enough it was supported only on two legs, precariously balanced. Her fingers tapped the table as she took Zoey in. 

The up-and-down of Zoey’s body was slightly less than chaste. A grin split her lips. “Zoey. That’s a cute name.”

Was she being hit on? “Thanks. I like yours, too.”

Delta opened her mouth to continue the dialogue, but Rosalie cleared her throat, pointedly dragging her attention back. 

Zoey paid closer attention to the fox-woman’s curves, the orange-and-white ears sprouting from her head. They were … well, they did something for Zoey. She was coming around on this whole, half-animal thing. It was pretty cute.

Delta was dressed not casually, but how Zoey assumed she’d be venturing into dungeons: in full leather armor, her bow set across the table. Why she didn’t store the weapon in her inventory … Zoey couldn’t say for sure. Advertising? She was ‘looking for group’.

But the fact her curves showed through even a full set of (slightly mismatched) leather armor promised a body that Zoey would be greatly appreciative of.

“You’re a striker,” Rosalie said. “How strictly?”

“I hurt things. Not much else.”

Rosalie nodded. “Good. I can fill defense. How much attention would you need?”

“None. I can run solo, need be.”

Rosalie kept nodding. The answers were what she wanted to hear. “My partner’s class is strange,” Rosalie said. “You’ll need to have an open mind.”

Which gave Delta pause. “Excuse me?”

“The prerequisites for her supporting skills are odd. You may have to perform some … slightly uncomfortable actions to facilitate it.”

Zoey winced. The clinical nature Rosalie described her Bond skill was bringing a heat to Zoey’s face, though, how else were they supposed to handle the situation?

“ … what?” came the reasonable response.

“What’s the exact wording, again?” Rosalie asked Zoey. Zoey wasn’t handling things much better. Pink tinted her cheeks. 

Zoey saved her from having to go further. It was Zoey’s cross to bear, so to say. And she could deal with the awkwardness better than Rosalie. Not without a blush, but still better.

“We’ll have to be intimate,” Zoey said. She didn’t broach the whole, ‘release seed onto or inside’ part, because the exact wording was so much worse than being roundabout; it could be left implied.

Delta stared at her. “By intimate, you mean …”

“Sex,” Zoey said. “Or not sex, but, uh. Intimacy. More than kissing.” Okay, maybe she was just as awkward about this.

“Right,” Delta said.

A long pause.

“Look,” she finally said. “Why bullshit? If you wanted a threesome, the answer would’ve been yes, until you tried … whatever this is.”

Rosalie started sputtering, but Zoey laughed. It broke the awkwardness. For her, at least. “I know it’s odd. My class is … perverted. I can let you read my anima, if you don’t believe me.”

Delta’s eyebrows shot up, and Rosalie immediately said, “No, that’s not necessary.”

Zoey might have underestimated how personal the offer was.

“You’re serious?”

“No, she isn’t,” Rosalie said.

“Why is it such a big deal?” Zoey asked.

“What?” Delta asked. “Big deal? Are you—”

“She has memory problems,” Rosalie said, glaring at Zoey. “She doesn’t know what she’s offering.”

“It’s fine.” Zoey really didn’t get why it was a whole ‘thing’. So Delta would know her runes and skills. At first advancement on most of them, it barely gave away anything. Wouldn’t she learn them just by being on a party with her?

“Memory problems?” Delta asked. “What the hell is going on, here?”

“You’ll need to take our word for it,” Rosalie said. “She’s not sharing her anima.”

“Why not?” Zoey asked.

“Take your word that she needs to fuck me? To use her skills?” Delta asked. “Are you insane?”

Zoey raised her palms up and said, “Both of you. Please. Be quiet.” Things were getting too chaotic for her liking.

She turned to Rosalie first. “There’s no avoiding it. Why would she believe us?”

“We’ll simply move to the next, if she doesn’t.”

“It’s my choice, isn’t it?” 

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

A frustrated expression appeared. “Because she can’t be trusted.”

“With what?”

“Your situation! How incautious can you be? Do you have any idea the circumstances you’re in?”

“No, I don’t. I would’ve figured you knew that.”

Rosalie rubbed her forehead. “It’s not … you can, it’s just … I, personally, wouldn’t.”

“This is, hands down, the most bizarre team offer I’ve ever been given,” Delta said. “But I’m starting to believe you. Maker. Zoey, you don’t need to show me your anima. How intimate are we talking?”

Zoey blinked. What had convinced her? She supposed the shape of her and Rosalie’s conversation didn’t make sense as some kind of ‘ruse to a threesome’.

“Uh,” Zoey said. “Just a handjob, I guess.”

“Sorry. Handjob?”

Zoey paused. She guessed the equipment down there wasn’t immediately noticeable, not if someone wasn’t looking for it. “Yeah. Handjob.”

Delta absorbed the announcement. Her eyes flicked to Zoey’s lower half, probably making out the protrusion in her pants. She must have passed over it on her first up-and-down.

“What the fuck,” she eloquently said. “You have a cock?”

Rosalie was pinching the bridge of her nose. “How else did I expect this to go?”

“Yeah,” Zoey said. “I get it if that’s a deal breaker.” 

“But … why?”

“Why do I have a cock?”

“Are you a man?”

“It was given to me as part of my class,” Zoey said.  She prevented her nose from wrinkling at the question. She assumed fantasy-world wasn’t quite up to date on modern-day perception of gender identities.

“Maker,” she said for the third time. Zoey assumed it was more or less the equivalent of a ‘Jesus’ exclamation. A grin fell onto her lips. “Lucky bastard. You have your other equipment, too?”

Zoey snorted. Some of the tension broke. “Both, yeah. And lucky. I guess. It hasn’t been all bad. Weird, but not bad.”

“Blondie’s right. Strange circumstances—the hell’s going on with you?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Memory problems?”

“Can’t remember much. Rosalie’s been helping me along.”

“How’d you two meet?”

“I woke up in a shard. First advancement in everything. No memories.”

“Shit,” Delta said. “You two made it out, though.”

“Rosalie’s efforts.”

“No joke. I can tell old blood when I see it. Could’ve carved through it herself, I bet.”

Rosalie crossed her arms, though Zoey didn’t know what the phrase ‘old blood’ meant. She could infer.

“Okay,” Delta said. “Okay. Whatever. But you’re taking me on a date, first.”

“What?”

“You expect me to just bust out a handy, right here? Treat me with some respect. Sun’s not down—a girl deserves a date before she pays out, don’t you think?”

“I—I—” 

She glanced at Rosalie, for some reason, who threw her hands in the air. 

“Clearly you’ve taken the lead on this situation,” she said scathingly. “So figure it out.”

“Sure?” Zoey said. “A date? That sounds fun. Uh. Where?”

“Where does a girl like me deserve, in exchange for a handy?”

Well, that was a trap question if she’d ever heard one, and by Delta’s grin, it had been intentionally so.

Damn. She was actually starting to like this girl. 

“I’m broke,” Zoey said, “and I don’t think Rosalie will spot me. But wherever you want, if I can afford it.”

“Right answer,” Delta laughed. “Dinner’s fine. We can get to know each other.” She slammed down the last of her drink, then stood, slinging her bow over her shoulder. “Assuming I met your requirements, old blood?”

“Barely,” Rosalie said tightly. “But yes.”

Delta laughed. She patted Zoey’s shoulder as she passed. “Come on, cock-girl. Let’s go get something to eat.”