Paresthesia Pt. 08

"You're not going neutral on the stick," Ken says, "That's why that keeps coming out. And I know you keep not going neutral, so I do the uppercut, which beats out the forward heavy slash. And the moment you start going neutral, then we have a match going. I'm just trying to help you learn."

"But you know all the secret moves," Hannah whines, "How am I supposed to learn all the secret moves?"

I roll over and realize that I am not in trouble. Good. I never deserve to be in trouble because I am perfect and spending and the most precious darling the world has ever known. I sigh and stretch under the blankets. Not my blankets, not my pillows, not even my bed. That might be a problem. Seemed to start happening more and more once Hannah and I finally hooked up again.

"And why does the butterfly always get me? It's a butterfly. I'm the big guy in armor. Big guys in armor beat out the butterfly."

"Magic butterfly. Big guys in armor lose out to magic butterflies."

"Oooooh. That makes sense. Do I have a magic butterfly?"

"No, but you have a 360-command grab. That's something."

I don't understand the words. But it is nice to hear them. Ken and Hannah are having fun. Granted, it is fun without me, but that makes sense. They've had another several years of a professional relationship that I just don't. Some alarm goes off and that seems like a good enough reason to roll out of bed and actually face the day and all it entails.

I have my pants and that's somewhat of a surprise. I also snag an odd loose robe from the closet. The morning after shuffles around the concept of ownership and clothes. I will give it back. Probably. Eventually. It is very comfortable and flowing. Breezy, but still trapping a bit of heat. If he says nothing, then it's mine. That's the rule.

"Morning, babe," says Hannah without looking away from the screen.

"Morning. Are you winning?"

"She isn't," says Ken, the same loose focus on his face. I don't like this game. Mainly because it seems to have stopped them from actually making coffee. There's the bag out and the pot's on, but I still have to do the rest of all this.

"Your phone's been blowing up by the way," Ken says as Hannah swears again, "Didn't look in case it was a bad guy thing. Don't want to spoil any of the surprises."

"I did look," says Hannah once she's calmed down, "But I don't know your password to get in."

"Isn't that kind of invasive," I ask. I finish the work and let the machine do its task. I would only get in the way.

"In theory. We were just going to take naked pictures of ourselves and then hide them. I think that's an okay invasive."

"Debatable. But I appreciate the thought."

The thin in question is still on the table across the couch. I have to cross the line of sight and they simply hate me for it. Booing and jeering, doing everything in their power to get me down in front.

"Round table," says the text, "noon. Lunch. Usual place."

And the time on front eventually does make my heart stop a bit.

"Hannah, we gotta go."

"No, we don't. I have to beat him first."

"Doppel's calling a round table."

"Square table. It's held at a square table so he should call it a square table. Not a round table. I swear to god if you hit me with that butterfly again, I am going to hit you in real life."

"You can just jump over the butterfly."

"Fuck you."

"But then I can do the uppercut."

"Evan, just one more game. Just one more. And then we can go."

I sigh and hold up my hands. I tried to be the responsible one. But I failed. That's fine. I need to fail every so often. And besides, the coffee still isn't done. The bad guys would understand. Not really a group for rules and expectations anyway.