Young Writers Society

Eve sat on her cushioned windowsill with her knees to her chest, staring at the matte metallic card as she twisted it around in different angles, watching how the sunlight made shimmer in hues of blue. The only logo on there was a white icon of a key.

She wondered why she was given this. It was on her desk since day one with no further clues or hints to what the key opened.

If it even was a key. Maybe it was a credit card. But it resembled a hotel key card, even if it was sleeker and fancier.

Eve hadn't told anyone yet since there wasn't anything much to share, but she did do some investigating. She noticed during the mansion pool party and her visits to staff for food catering that some of the restricted areas had a key-card only access. She hadn't tested it out yet, but... Eve did wonder.

Would this key open those doors? If so, why did she have access to it? Did the DMV want her to visit? Was there something she was supposed to see?

With a sigh, she slipped the key back in her front overall pocket, instead leaning her head against the window.

Nothing on this island was a coincidence. Not even the fact that the DMV gave her a big window overlooking the other cabins. It made for good people watching sessions, but it also meant that she stayed in her room most days and hours.

It wasn't atypical for the cabin. Clandestine frequently stepped out, but Hild and Clarity were comfortable staying in the privacy of their own room too. It was comfortable, but maybe she should explore more. Her time spent with James yesterday was actually very pleasant, but she did feel a little embarrassed that she could hardly answer his "how did you spend your time so far" question.

How did she spend her time this week? Mostly watching other people spend their time and then drawing them and imagining make-believe futures and scenarios in her head.

But she wasn't ever going to admit that.

With a quiet groan, Eve smashed a decorative pillow to her face, breathing out her pent-up frustrations before releasing it with a sigh.

Okay.

She'd do some exploring outside the vicinity of the cabin and the beach.



Eve had managed to quietly leave the cabin without anyone noticing her, which was starting to feel more and more like an Olympic feat considering that her cabin mates were very perceptive. She was relieved that she could slip not only her cabin but also the beach area without anyone noticing her.

The mansion and staff housing were north-east of the island, and it was easiest to walk by the shoreline since that was the main trail, but today she wanted to go off-trail, zig-zagging through the trees and foliage. She kept getting swept by branches and vegetation, and every few minutes she had to pat through her hair and clothes since leaves and burrs managed to cling on her-- but it was well-worth the privacy.

After all, cameras were always watching them, right?

She couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason why James seemed like he was filtering his words. Or maybe she was overthinking it. She frequently was.

Maybe she should start filtering her words to the camera.

Should she?

Was it bad that she wasn't?

Was everyone doing this?

Was she the only one who didn't really think much of the cameras?

At any rate, Eve figured it was harder for any camera to go through this path. It didn't really matter if they caught her walking since she wasn't doing or saying anything worth capturing, but she did wonder if this path would catch anyone's attention.

And apparently, it did. Or, would have.

Overhead came a loud snap from a tree branch. Before she had a chance to look up, the branch came tumbling down in front of her, taking with it what looked like a mounted camera and a very tall man who landed roughly on his side. Letting out a long, loud groan, he lied sprawled out on his back in visible pain.

Eve was taken aback by the sudden fall, her arms out instinctively in front of her as she took a step back and blinked. Leaves and small twigs stuck out from his ashy blond hair and beard. His nose was crooked, as if broken once and never fully set back. He was dressed plainly, and clearly suffering from the heat as well-- his shirt was drenched with sweat. Wearing jeans and work boots probably didn't help that. His hat was carried a distance away by the wind.

She hesitated, glancing up at where the thin branch had snapped from the tree. It was no wonder he fell. The branch didn't look like it could even support half his weight without buckling.

Why was he up there, anyways? And for how long?

"...Are you... alright?" she asked awkwardly, not sure what to make of this situation.

"I'm fi--" he wheezed, weakly turning over onto his side in a show of unaffected durability. "S'fine..."

"Are you... sure...?" Eve asked uncertainly.

He seemed hurt, although it wasn't like she could do anything about it.

From a bush somewhere off to the side, a germaknee shepherd wearing an army green harness leapt out. It darted straight for the writhing man and plopped itself down on top of him.

A good dog protecting its owner. It was too bad the dog couldn't protect the man from the tree.

"Thanks," the man groaned, "that's really helping, buddy."

The dog nervously licked his face in response.

Eve eyed the camera that fell from the fall, noticing the now-shattered lens.

"Are you part of the staff?" she asked, although she already knew the answer. She noticed him as a cameraman since day one.

The man lifted his head, looking like he'd only just noticed her, then dropped back down with a tired huff. "I am."

Eve furrowed her brows, staring at him. "Why are you out here?"

"Uhm," he said, "tech maintainence." He propped himself up on one elbow, looking up at her with a pained grimace. "What're you doing out here? There's...paths you could take instead."

She gave him a flat look. "To get away from staff."

The man turned his gaze back down to his shoes, looking quite chastised. "Oh. Right."

This was... weird. Eve didn't really know how to proceed at this point. Should she leave him? Her eyes drifted past him, back towards the small trail she was walking through.

The man at this point seemed to have recovered enough to stand now. Drawing to his full height, he wasn't quite as tall as Bo. He dusted himself off, though he missed at least a square foot of dirt on his back, and he adjusted the dog tags around his neck. His dog, meanwhile, dashed off to fetch the man's hat from the leaves.

"Well, straying from the beaten path is a good way to get away," the cameraman conceded, setting a hand on his hip and leaning on the tree with the other. He still looked semi-dazed. "Far be it from me to judge."

"Right," Eve said, biting back words that her plan clearly didn't work since he was the one who ruined it. "Okay. I'll just... good luck."

Giving him a nod, she walked around him, resuming her trek. A few minutes passed as she walked, and without looking back, she could tell that the man was following her. It wasn't hard to pick up since she heard the twigs snap behind her and his dog pitter-pattering and panting. This seemed to come in waves, like he was pausing every once in a while so they had a respectable distance between them.

Maybe he wanted to make himself known that he was going in the same direction so he didn't appear a creep. After all, she was going towards staff housing to say hi to Bo.

This was a little awkward, but Eve decided to not overthink it and just resume her walk. She'd rather get this over with.

They were crossing creek that went through the trail, but it seemed to be more of a puddle since the water wasn't running. It didn't matter too much, because Eve made the bad decision to walk through it since she wore her strappy sport sandals anyways, and she sunk.

She greatly misjudged the depth of how deep this oh-so-innocent puddle was, and it seemed to defy the laws of physics. With panicked flailing, she splashed her arms to the surface, desperately looking for land, but then realized that she could stand up.

Ah.

The water only went up to her waist.

Grimacing, Eve stared down at herself, completely wet. Her hair clung to her face and skin, and her cream-colored overalls were now stained gray with streaks of green algae. Disgusted, she flicked more of the algae and mud off her hands, shifting her weight between her feet as she realized she was also stepping on a bed of it.

There came another wheezing sound from behind her, but more amused than pained this time. When she looked, the cameraman was desperately trying to bite back a smile as he now approached and offered her a hand.

Eve half-rolled her eyes and ignored his hand, stubbornly refusing his help since she was perfectly capable of lifting herself out of this mess. Just as she set her hands on the muddy ground in front of her and took a step to heave herself up with her hands and leg, she lost her footing on the slippery ground and fell in. Again.

Eve fell back in the water, sputtering for air as the muddied water fully engulfed her. Fortuantely, she was only underwater for a brief second since she only had to regain footing to stand back on her feet, but it did take a few panicked flailings to do so.

Finally back on her feet, Eve hastily brushed back the wet hair off her face, rubbing away the water from her eyes to give a sharp glare at the cameraman. He had been watching her the whole time, obviously trying so hard not to laugh. She couldn't prevent her face from going warm from embarrassment.

Great. This was just her luck.

Eve let out a long, deep sigh, using this second to contemplate her whole life and how she landed here.

"Whatever. Laugh. I'm sure it's funny on camera," she said flatly, picking away the goopy greens off her arms and clothes.

Clearing his throat, the cameraman composed himself and shook his head, causing the twig stuck in his hair to jiggle, but not quite fall out. "No, I'm sorry," he said, "it's not..." He trailed off, and idly scratched behind his ear in order to avoid eye contact. "Were you...headed anywhere in particular?"

"Where are you headed?" she asked instead, still glaring at him while in the water.

"My house," he answered simply. "Pretty sure I'm...mildly concussed."

Eve let out another long sigh. This was such a bizarre encounter, and she almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

"You did fall from a tree," she stated.

He huffed a laugh. "Yeah. Wish that wasn't...in front of someone."

Eve stared at him with a flat look.

Really? He wished she wasn't there?

The man blinked, waiting patiently. Eve drew out another sigh.

"...Alright," she decided to say instead, deciding to move on.

She examined the water, gauging the area. Apparently she must have stepped in some sort of sink hole. How far did it go? Would she fall deeper if she stepped away? She could attempt to heave herself up again, although she'd have to be extra careful about her footing. Maybe she'd try again, but slower.

Eve couldn't exactly ignore the man's eyes glued on her, though. With every passing second, this strangely made her feel even more embarrassed and nervous.

Why did he have to stand there and stare? It felt like he was judging her. For what? Was he going to record this? Did he want to see her mess up again? This was starting to feel borderline humiliating.

"Staff housing is up ahead," the man eventually said. "So, uhm. I don't know, are you intentionally--"

"You can go on. It's fine. You're headed that way, right?" Eve cut in, gesturing behind her. The water splashed as she lifted her arm.

"I am," he said, brow furrowing just slightly, "which we've already established. But you still haven't...answered yet."

"Well, you don't have to wait for me," Eve said curtly, realizing she was glaring at him again. "You can go around. I'm not in the way."

"Mmmno," he hummed in agreement, "but you are in a hole. You sure you don't need help?"

Eve didn't really know what prompted her face feeling so hot right now. The way he said "but you are in a hole" made this situation feel even more bizarre and embarrassing.

"It's not a hole," she said defensively, brows furrowed.

"Oh." He accepted this correction without further question.

"It's-- it's clearly a puddle. It looks like a puddle. Why is it so deep? You can't tell how deep it is by looking at it. This could have been dangerous. Honestly, it's a hazard anyways, since it may be deeper in other steps, and you could easily slip by walking, and--"

"Here, how about we just--"

The man finally just bent down and, grasping her by her shoulders, lifted her straight up from the not-puddle with ease. Eve was tense at first, but she graciously accepted the help. He set her on her feet beside him, and gave her shoulders a quick pat before stepping back again.

"There," he chirped.

Eve pressed her lips together, looking down at herself and noting how her previously-white overalls were now stained with streaks of brown and green. She felt so disgusting, but she vowed to never step on another puddle on this island again.

"...Thanks," she said quietly but sincerely.

He cracked a small, uneven smile and nodded. "So," he said slowly, "you're...going where? I can walk you there."

Eve sighed, wringing the water out of her hair and watching it drip onto the ground. "I happen to be going to the same destination as you."

A few seconds passed as she continued to wring her hair, and then it dawned on her that she just implied that she was going to his cabin. His cabin. Not the staff cabins. Eve froze, her mind suddenly blanking as she sharply turned back to face him.

The man tilted his head, brows pinching with confusion. "So you are--"

"I meant-- staff cabins. Staff," she quickly corrected.

He only seemed more confused at the clarification. "Yeah," he agreed, like that was obvious, and he hadn't actually caught onto the stranger, unintended implication. "But you said you were trying to avoid staff...?"

"...Some staff," she admitted, internally relieved. "The cameras. People like you." She paused. "No offense. I value my privacy."

At that, the man's expression fell a little. "Yeah, no," he said quietly, "I get it."

"But you're not recording me now, so... this is different," Eve added, then paused and slightly narrowed her eyes at him. "I mean... you're not recording now. Right?"

"Uh, I mean..." Glancing down at himself, he patted himself down. "I don't have...a wire, or a body camera, if that's what you're worried about. And we don't have any hiding in the staff area, so." He shrugged.

Eve did not know that, but that was good to know. That was, if what he even was saying was the truth. He didn't seem to give any indication that he could be lying, though.

"Thank you for helping," she said decided to stay instead. "You ought to get your concussion checked out, though."

"Probably," he said amicably. Then swept an arm in the direction of staff housing, in invitation to continue the walk.

Eve hesitated, but nodded and continued down the trail, this time being extra cautious and going around any hint of water, no matter how innocent it looked.

The cameraman kept pace behind her, closer than before but still a few arm lengths away. His steps were heavy as they went, loudly crunching leaves and the occasional twig underfoot. Hands in his pockets and head bowed slightly, he kept his eyes trained on the ground. His dog stuck close by his side, and wagged its tail whenever Eve glanced back.

It seemed that he was comfortable walking in silence, and Eve normally was too, but the drawn-out silence started to feel uneasy.

"What's your name?" she asked, glancing behind her again.

He looked up, seemingly snapped out of some deep contemplation. "Caspar," he answered after a second.

"What about your dog?" Eve asked.

Caspar smiled faintly as he glanced down at the dog. "He's Hugo."

Eve hummed. "Seems like a good dog. Does he normally accompany you while you work?"

"Um," he answered, "only where he won't be a distraction. So, like when I'm cutting video and audio together at the studio. He sits with me at the office there."

"So you're not just a cameraman," Eve remarked.

Caspar hummed. "I guess not."

"How long have you been working for the DMV?" she asked.

"About a week."

Eve glanced back at him again. "So you really only started for this season."

He nodded once.

Eve was aware that she was basically interrogating Caspar right now, but considering he didn't seem to give any pushback, she wondered how far she could go with this.

"Why work for the DMV?" she asked.

Unfazed by the interrogation, Caspar shrugged and answered honestly, "They're the only ones who called back after the interview."

Interesting. This implied that either Caspar struggled to obtain a job, or the DMV was desperate to hire someone. Maybe both.

"Is that your profession? Filming and editing?" Eve asked.

"Well...yeah." He looked at her as if she was the one with the mild concussion. "It's my job."

Eve certainly wasn't going to judge if he was bad at his job. Although, she had no way of knowing, but she didn't really care too much anyways.

"Was the DMV desperate to hire people to film?" she asked bluntly.

Caspar hesitated at that.

"It seems like a big show and a big set. Not having enough staff would be a disaster," Eve added before he could answer, not wanting the negative implications of him being bad at his job sink in.

He scratched the back of his neck as he glanced off to the side. "I, uh, don't think I'm allowed to tell you about...behind-the-scenes, stuff, actually," he said apologetically. His frown deepened as he added, "Or...talk to you at all, for that matter."

Right. That was a rule, wasn't it?

"You said we weren't being recorded. Right?" Eve asked after a brief hesitation, glancing back at Caspar and Hugo. "Are there cameras near us?"

"No cameras in this area," he confirmed, "but I still shouldn't-- Look, I think... Dante might be around, so he can help you get cleaned up, probably."

"If there are no cameras... then no one knows we're talking. You can say anything to me, and your superiors wouldn't know," Eve said, stopping in place and stepping to the side so that she could walk next to him instead. "You realize that, don't you?"

Caspar appeared to somehow sweat more profusely, and he couldn't quite meet her eyes anymore. "No, I do realize," he said nervously, "I just don't think that's wise, because." And he left it at that.

"Because what?" Eve pressed.

He just mumbled incoherently under his breath.

"...I can't hear you," Eve said, staring at him as they walked side-by-side.

"...I'm not a good liar," he admitted quietly. "So...I don't think I should secretly divulge anything to you. Because someone would find out eventually."

Hm. Interesting.

Eve kept her eyes on him, studying Caspar. "What do you know about Tula and Stravos?" she asked, ignoring his request.

Caspar came to a complete stop now, and Eve stopped too, still studying him. He fidgeted with visible discomfort under her intent gaze and stammered, "Miss, I don't-- Trust me, I want to tell you what I do know, but I could-- I'd lose my job if someone found out."

"Who's going to find out? I won't turn you in. I promise you that," Eve said, fully meaning it.

"And I'm sure you wouldn't," he said earnestly. "It's not you I'm worried about, though."

"Then who? Who are you worried about?" she pressed.

"My--" He shuffled in place, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. "My managers. There aren't recording devices here, but they still have ways of keeping tabs on... everything." He raised a hand before she could ask anything else and added, "I don't know how, but they made sure I was aware of that much when I first signed on."

"Are you talking about Maeve? Maeve and Oliver?" Eve asked.

He stuttered more, then finally found the good sense of mind to try and divert the conversation. "Housing's just a few minutes away," he tried. "I'll help you find Dante, and then I need to just. Fully step back from this, I'm..." And he just shook his head, unable to further articulate.

Eve did feel a little guilty. Caspar did help her during a time of need despite being mildly concussed, and here she was, interrogating him.

But she felt like she was so close to getting something. If she was going to be played as a pawn in this game, then she was going to play their game too.

"Do you really not know how they know everything? How they always seem to know things before anyone could even guess?" she asked instead, keeping her eyes glued on Caspar.

"I--" His distress intensifying, he hid his face in both hands and quietly pleaded, "Don't ask me these things, please. I'm not supposed to say anything..."

Eve sighed. "I didn't ask you that to get information. I already know how their magic works. How and why they're ten steps ahead of everyone. Their magic is the reason why they're head of the DMV and leaders of this forsaken show."

She paused, furrowing her brows as she crossed her arms.

"What I can't figure out is how they know details. How they have so much control. They know events-- what could be, what is, what will be. But how do they know what was? All of this feels like a pre-fabricated story, curated for the world's entertainment. How much control do they really have? I can't help but think that the key to finding this information lies with the staff. After all, it's the staff that Oliver and Maeve see every day and communicate with. How much of this is truth, and how much of this are lies?"

Caspar peeked out through his fingers at her and whispered, "You know?" He deflated. "Then why would you... do that to me..."

Eve stared at him, processing.

It occurred to her that maybe she had been interrogating the wrong person. She thought maybe Caspar may have known something, but... what if he knew nothing?

From the little information she knew about this man, suddenly this made much more sense: why he was so easy to interrogate, why he kept staring at her in half-confusion, why he didn't seem to give much pushback for, well, anything. Eve felt her face heat up from embarrassment again.

"...Let's just... keep walking," she suggested instead, moving forward without waiting for his confirmation.

The only indication that he was indeed following (despite the stress she had just put him under) were his heavy footsteps keeping pace.

"Sorry. I'm just... stressed," Eve admitted when the silence dragged on too long.

The houses were just ahead. They weren't too far now.

"I can only imagine," he replied empathetically.

"I'm sure you don't need to imagine it, considering you put together all the footage," she said flatly.

"It's one thing to watch it," he said simply, "and another to actually live it."

"Yeah," Eve said with a sigh. "I'd much rather be in your position."

For that, he had no remark. Just followed silently.

"What's your favorite footage so far?" she asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

There was a pause as he thought. "The, uhm, Silly Shirt Society's debut," he eventually answered.

"Ah... right. That must have been entertaining to edit," Eve said with a nod.

Another beat of silence.

"I wasn't allowed to use it," Caspar said, voice dropping to a murmur, "but I kept the footage of Oliver getting, um." He swung an arm demonstratively. "Pow."

Hm.

"Really?" Eve mused, pursing her lips in thought. She paused, watching him closely again. "Are you the only one with a copy?"

"Yeah. Everyone else stopped filming before then."

Eve hummed, glancing between Caspar and the end of the trail. "Would I be crossing boundaries if I asked to get a copy of it?" she asked.

Caspar stared out over the staff area for a moment, contemplating. No, scanning for anyone close by.

"No one can know," he whispered solemnly.

"I won't tell anyone," Eve said just as quietly and seriously.

He nodded. "I'll send it to you later, then." This time, he started up the trek again and headed into the residential area. "Hopefully Dante's nearby. Are you cold?"

"A little," Eve admitted, following Caspar to-- she assumed-- Dante's cabin.

"Oh, gosh," Caspar mumbled, "I'm sorry. I should've thought of that sooner."

Untying the flannel from around his waist, he shook off any lingering dirt and carefully draped it around her.

"Oh," Eve quietly began to protest, but by then it was too late. She looked down and patted the sleeves of the flannel. "Thanks, but you didn't have to do that." A beat. "Especially because I'm pretty sure the water is full of disease. You're going to want to wash this now."

He huffed a laugh. "It's been through worse."

"You have a twig in your hair, by the way," Eve finally pointed out, flicking her eyes to the top of his head where the stubborn twig rested in his hair.

Brows rising, Caspar blindly patted at the top of his head. "Oh! Huh." He tugged it out and looked it over with a faint grin. "There it is."

"Dante's cabin is just right ahead, right? Are you going to speak to him as well? You really ought to get your head checked," Eve said.

He pursed his lips. "It's not very serious, I think," he said, rather unconcerned.

Right. That was always a tell-tale sign that they were more hurt than they realize, but Eve decided to not push it.

The fourth house into their trek, Caspar went right up to the door of a cabin made of red oak with a slanted tin roof, and gave it two polite taps. After a moment, the door opened, revealing Dante beaming behind the sunglasses he always wore.

"Cas! Good to have you stop by," he said, reaching out to perform a quick, short secret handshake with the cameraman. Smiling fully, Caspar nodded his own greeting. Dante then turned his smile to Eve. "And Eve, no less welcome. Can I help you with getting a towel or anything else?"

"Hi, Dante," Eve greeted, then hesitated as she then stared down at herself. "Um..."

She was such a mess. Eve hardly dressed in nice clothes anyways, but after going in the muddy waters, she felt like she was a plumber who had just crawled out of the sewer pipes. Mud and goop caked her hair and streaked her clothes and skin. Caspar's flannel covered some of the damage, but she still felt bad that she was dirtying it.

"We can help you, don't worry about it," Dante assured her. "Accidents happen." His head moved very slightly up and down as he scanned them both. "Did you both have a fall?"

"Two different falls, yes," Eve said tiredly.

Caspar just scratched self-consciously behind his ear.

"Let's just say: Caspar fell from above, and I fell from below," Eve added, figuring the rest of the story was self-explanatory considering she was wet and he was covered with brambles and leaves.

Dante nodded, looking understanding and sympathetic, but not alarmed. "Are either of you hurt, first of all?"

"Caspar has a concussion," Eve answered for him.

With a frown, Caspar cast her a betrayed look. She pretended not to notice.

"Very mild," he corrected.

"He should still get it checked out, though," Eve said, now casting Caspar a more stern look.

He didn't have it in him to argue any more than that, and just looked down at his boots in defeat.

"Cas, why didn't you say something right away?" Dante reproached him gently, moving over to scan his face.

"It's mild," Caspar reiterated emphatically. "Nothing I can't sleep off."

"No, you do not sleep off a concussion," Dante scolded him, a kindness to his words. "Do you want me to get the flashback and determine how bad it was, or should I send you to Elise right away?"

Flashback? What did Dante mean by that? Eve flicked her eyes between the two, watching and listening for more context clues.

"It's just..." Caspar shrugged helplessly. "A bit of ringing? It's not bad, I promise. No need to bother Elise."

Dante hummed softly, looking unconvinced. "Can you look at the sun for me, for a couple moments? It's a way to test for it."

With a very quiet sigh, Caspar obeyed and turned on his heel to face the sun. Dante moved in front of him, watching his face.

"Your pupils aren't dilating very fast in response to bright light," he remarked. "Sorry, Cas. I'm going to have you go there."

Caspar slouched, saddened by the news, but simply said, "Okay."

"Hey, Dants! Who's at the door?" a voice inside the cabin yelled.

"It's Cas and Eve, just helping them out," Dante called back over his shoulder, before he turned back to Eve and Caspar. "Eve, have you met Ethan yet? He's the head interviewer."

"What! Why didn't you say so!" Ethan shouted.

"Hi, Ethan," Caspar called as well, brightening the instant he heard Ethan's voice.

There was a loud ramming coming inside the cabin, objects loudly clattering on the floor. It seemed Ethan was running to see them and didn't have a care in the world what furniture got knocked over so he could get there as quickly as possible.

"I think he interviewed me on the first day," Eve said, recalling his voice and personality.

Her interviewer that day was goofy and scatterbrained. It seemed Dante's cabin mate was no different.

"Ah, that's good," Dante said, nodding. "He interviews people, but he's also able to help with some of the things I do on the island. If you can't find me when you need help-- although I hope you always can-- he's a good person to go to."

Suddenly another man came to the door, and Eve's confirmation were confirmed that he was indeed the same interviewer. He was tall with scruffy sandy hair that was even more messy since they seemed to catch him on his day off. He wore only one white sock, swimming trunks, and a baggy blue pajama shirt with a yellow smiley face on it.

"Hey Cas, hey Eve! What's up?" Ethan asked with a big grin. "Is there a costume party I don't know about?"

Caspar shared with Eve a looked of confusion and slowly answered, "...No?"

Ethan hummed, squinting his eyes at them as he rubbed the short blonde stubble on his chin. "Hmmm. I thought maybe Eve was dressed as Luigi and you're dressed as Mario."

Dante shook his head, pressing his lips together like he was trying to conceal amusement. "No, they both had a small accident. We're sending Cas to Elise, and Eve will probably go to Mel to get cleaned up."

"Oh! I have to give something to my sis anyways. Can I come? Wait. One second," Ethan said, then disappeared before anyone could even confirm his first question.

Dante looked between Cas and Eve, but mostly to Eve. "Is it alright if he joins us in the goolf cart?" he asked.

"...Sure," Eve said. "Am I... getting a change of clothes?"

Dante nodded. "Mel will be more than happy to help you with that."

"Okay, BACK!" Ethan said, popping back in, this time grinning while holding a big package of marshmallows.

"Oh, s'mores time, is it?" Dante asked, stepping out of the doorway and taking the cart keys out of a pocket. "Perfect. Let's head out."

"Wait! I almost forgot to wake up the big man!" Ethan said, then disappeared again. Although, it seemed he only stepped away to... yell. "HEY BO! WANNA COME WITH US? WE'RE GOING TO EAT MARSHMALLOWS!"

Bo.

So this was where he lived.

Eve had stepped out for the day to pay him a visit, after all. She had spent a full day with him to help cater James's party, and although he told her what days he was off, she didn't know how to see him, exactly. It seemed that this predicament resolved itself by sheer dumb luck.

Bo came out from a hall, running quickly into the front room to the front door. He was slipping on flip-flips while walking, nearly tripping over himself like a dog skittering across the floor.

Appearing at the door looking a little rustled but otherwise awake. Since this was his day off, he was dressed in more casual clothes: gym shorts and a black muscle tank top, revealing bright red and blue dragon tattoos spiraling around both arms.

Bo's face expression quickly turned to concern as he briefly looked Eve up and down.

"Oh my gosh," he said. "Eve! What happened? Are you okay?"

Eve sighed. "I'm fine. Just fell in some water," she said.

"A puddle," Caspar added helpfully.

Eve gave him a sharp look. "...Yes."

"You should come inside," Bo said, backing away from the door. "You're soaked. Ethan, can she borrow one of your shirts? Mine will probably drown her."

"Totally! I just so happen to have a clean shirt around. That's no problem," Ethan said enthusiastically. "Come in, come in."

Bo was bustling into the hall, disappearing for a moment while he presumably fetched things.

"You can step in," Dante assured Eve, stepping back from the doorway. "It's alright, we'll be on our way soon anyway."

Eve nodded, stepping in the cabin and hovering near the door, watching as Bo rushed into his room and Ethan distractedly picked up random objects off the floor in a last-second attempt to clean.

It was strange. Their cabin was... well, it was certainly smaller. And older. It seemed the DMV prioritized giving the contestants luxuries while only giving the staff the bare minimum. It made sense, considering only the contestants were being televised and therefore drove profits.

There were only two rooms in this cabin, and from how Ethan and Bo bickered in the same room, they must have been roommates. She flicked her eyes between Dante and Caspar.

"Do all four of you room here?" she asked.

Caspar bent down with a tired grunt and righted a fallen table lamp. "Yup."

Eve hummed, deciding to leave it at that.

"It's a good group," Dante added, reaching over to scratch behind Hugo's ears as the dog bounded inside the cabin. The germaknee shepherd sat on his foot, leaning against his leg, but the grounds manager seemed very comfortable with this. "There's another cabin with Mel, Elise, Mireya and Shaniece a short walk away, which is where we're headed next."

"Ethan mentioned a sister. Is he related to one of them?" Eve asked.

Dante nodded. "Elise is our island nurse, and also his sister. I guess the marshmallows are for her."

Bo came in with several things in his arms. It looked like a blanket, towel, and some clothes. When he made eye contact with Eve, he waved for her to come over.

"Hey," he said. "The bathroom's just down the hall so you can get changed and dry off."

Eve nodded as her quiet way to dismiss herself from the conversation, going over to Bo and graciously taking the items he offered. "Thank you. I appreciate it. Really," she said sincerely to him.

Bo smiled. "It's no problem, really."

He offered her the bundle of clothes and the towel.

"There's a shirt and some shorts in there, but if you're more comfortable in a huge shirt I threw one of mine in there. It'd probably be a dress on you. I'd just rather you not sit around in wet clothes, so whatever works. And feel free to use whatever you need to in the bathroom to clean up. The blanket will be waiting for you to warm up. Let me know if you need anything else."

Eve nodded. "Thanks again."

She headed towards the bathroom down the hall, but before closing the door behind her, she gave one last glance at everyone. Caspar slipped into the kitchen making to make a sandwich while chatting with Bo who was boiling water. Dante and Ethan were by the door, petting Hugo. Ethan in particular was cooing at the dog like he was a baby.

Eve then closed and locked the door behind her, setting the clothes on the counter, examining it. The shirt that Bo gave her indeed would fit her like a dress, and although it would be baggier than she normally wore, she owned a few plain boxy dresses anyways. The other shirt was smaller-- presumably Ethan's-- and it was light blue with a surfing man and the words "you're swell" on top of it. There were also black gym shorts with a drawstring on it.

Eve set the clothes aside, deciding to make a decision after her shower.

This day started rough, but now...

It didn't seem so bad now.

It was fun to be the show's commentary host, but whenever Mel wasn't hosting... things were sooooo boring!

Mel groaned, dramatically falling down on the couch where Shaniece was playing a video game. Mireya was working-- she was always working-- and Elise was in her room, studying, probably. Because she was super smart and actually not wanting to waste like like she did.

"Shan, don't you get tired of playing that game?" Mel mumbled, sitting back up again.

She stared at her watering plants in Animal Xrossings: Old Horizons.

"Like, you're on an island right now. Isn't this basically a chore simulator? On an island?" Mel went on.

"I don't know, dude," Shan replied, sounding amused by Mel's theatrics, "we're on an island paradise, but it's also kind of stressful here." She held up the device to show Mel the little digital plants. "This calms me."

Mel scoffed. "Fake digital plants and oceans calm you?"

"Yeah!" Shan swung her legs up over the back of the couch to sit upside down. "God knows I can't keep even a real cactus alive, so."

"Ew! What's that thing? Why is it chasing you?" Mel asked, now invested as she watched a tarantula chase after Shan's character.

Shan giggled. "Gotta run, or it'll like. Kill me or something."

Huh. She thought this game was supposed to be wholesome. Mel didn't realized violence was involved. And violence between a spider, no less.

Her attention was divereted when there was a knock at the door, and she was quick to her feet, grinning.

"I'll get it!" she said enthusiastically, running to the door.

"Please do," Shan said absently, still holding the game in front of her face.

Mel opened the door, blinking in surprise as she saw everyone staring back at her. Dante was in the front, as well as Eve with wet hair and wearing boyish baggy clothes. Just behind them, Bo was holding Hugo like a baby and Ethan aggressively petting him and cooing words. Caspar hung in the way back, hands tucked in his pockets.

Mel grinned in excitement.

Finally! They've come to save her from boredom!

"Hey, Mel," Dante greeted, flashing her a slight grin. "Good to see you. Is Elise around? We have a small medical issue. Cas got a concussion."

Mel gasped, eyes flitting to Cas with worry. "Cas! You have a concussion?! Aww, no!" she pouted, then stepped out of the way and gestured for them to come in. "Elise is home. You should definitely get that checked out!"

"Mild," Caspar corrected. "It's really not even worth bothering miss Elise about."

Setting aside her game, Shan offered them a grin as they all shuffled in. "What were you doing?"

Ducking his head, Caspar only mumbled inaudibly. Shan's smile faded with concern at that.

Ethan held up his bag of marshmallows. "Hey sis! You in here?"" he yelled, but then got distracted by the Animal Xrossings paused screen and sat on the couch by hopping over it from behind. "Nice, you playing Animal Xrossings? I love that game."

The door to Elise's room opened, and as always, she looked worried. Now, more worried than usual.

"Hey, everyone," she said softly, making her way over to them. "Did you call my name?"

"Hey, Elise," Dante said warmly, offering her a wave. "We think Cas got a concussion. Could you please look to that?"

Elise nodded, turning to Cas with even more worry and concern. "Of course." She paused. "Do you mind if I have a look, Caspar?"

Sighing, Caspar mustered an apologetic smile. "If it'll give you any peace of mind, then sure."

Elise smiled, but it was still one of worry. "Do you want me to look here or in the room?"

"Definitely in the room," Mel said casually.

Dante might have been raising an eyebrow at her. It was always a little hard to tell with the dark shades.

Caspar's face reddened. "Here's fine," he squeaked.

Elise nodded, motioning for him to follow her on the other side of the living room, away from where Shan and Ethan were sitting. Cas followed, and he sat on the edge of the couch as Elise talked softly, examining his head. She was picking out all the leaves, brambles, and twigs out of his hair, which was a little funny to watch, since it reminded Mel of a monkey. Caspar, for his part, turned a deeper shade of red from embarrassment as he apologized for the mess.

Mel hummed, eyes back on the people in front of her since Elise and Cas were busy, and Shan and Ethan were now playing the game together. Bo had dipped into the kitchen, which left Dante and Eve still by the door. She couldn't help but give an up-and-down glance at Eve's outfit. Mel had analyzed every contestant's preferred fashion choices since she was in charge of pampering their closet and ensuring the plaza had styles they'd preferred, and she was sure that Eve didn't prefer to be dressed like this.

"How's your day been, Mel?" Dante asked, tucking the keys to the goolf cart back in his pocket. "Are you needing something to do?"

"My day's been fine! I was a little bored, actually, but not anymore now that you're here." She beamed at Dante, but then squinted her eyes suspiciously at him. "Did you give Eve your clothes?"

Dante shook his head. "No, those are Ethan's," he said, sounding vaguely amused. "Eve had a fall, like Cas, and had to change into clean, dry clothes. I was thinking, though, if you were both willing--" He glanced to Eve, who had been quiet the whole time.

"YES!" Mel said enthusiastically before Dante could even finish. "I have just the 'fit for you! Let's go, Eve!"

Mel took her hand and dragged her to her room. Eve protested behind her at first, glancing back, but then decided to go along with it. Mel hummed as she led her to her closet, sifting through the many hung dresses she had in stock. None of it were hers, actually. She kept some dresses in stock to work on them for future events. Now, to find Eve's stock...

"I'm really not picky. Anything is fine. Really. It's not even that big of a deal that I'm wearing this," Eve said.

"Nonsense," Mel said as she pulled out a blue floral sundress with a heart neckline. "Try this." She also wordlessly passed her undergarments, with Eve graciously accepted.

"...Alright," Eve said after a hesitation. "Thank you."

"No problem! Feel free to change in here. Holler if you need anything, alright?" Mel asked, already by the door.

Eve nodded. "Thanks, Mel."

With that, Mel closed the door behind her and sauntered back to the living room, eyes locked on Dante. He was wearing a fitted white polo shirt with dark jeans, his uniform of choice to walk the line between a classy outfit that still wasn't too formal so he remained approachable by contestants.

"Hey, Dante!" she chirped. "How are the new shades? Do you like the new frames I sent you? I think you look extra suave today, but you're suave every day."

Dante smiled, tapping the aviator frames. "Oh, I like them. Thanks for helping me look cool."

"You're always cool, silly!" Mel said with a giggle, playfully elbowing him.

Dante laughed lightly, half-shrugging with one shoulder. "I lose some cool points without the shades, honestly. I'm not so mysterious without them."

Mel hummed. "Are you going for mysterious?" she asked. "I think you should go for handsome."

Dante let out a huff of laughter through his nose. "If you find some frames that do the trick, I will wear them."

"Oh, you don't need any specific frames for that," she said casually. "Whatever you wear doesn't change that."

He was definitely raising an eyebrow now, but it looked more playful. "Is that your expert opinion, as our island stylist?" he asked. "Or is this a less professional thing?"

Mel grinned, leaning in teasingly. "What do you think?"

Dante tilted his head to the side, smiling slightly. "Well, I suppose you aren't giving everyone cool sunglasses."

"Nope," Mel said with a hard 'p' sound. "Just you. That makes it pretty special, don't cha think?"

Dante hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe so," he mused. "As long as it's not secretly part of your job to make sure I've got the best sunglasses."

"Dante, it's not part of my job," Mel said as a laugh. "I do it for fun! I think it's cute to see you cute. That's all."

Dante laughed, glancing quickly at Ethan and Shan on the couch, who were both still consumed by Animal Xrossings. "Alright," he said, sounding more convinced. "Thank you, Mel. I look forward to a very stylish summer in your company."

"Me too!" Mel said brightly. "Maybe you can be my co-host sometime. What do you think?"

"I think that'd be fun," Dante said with a smile. "When's the next recap again?"

"There's one Saturday morning before the event, and one after the event! I'm excited. Maeve put me in charge of matches for the Speed Dating event. It's going to be soooo much fun. I can just tell," Mel said.

"That'll be something," Dante said, shaking his head amusedly. "Let's hope it goes better than the last event, too."

Mel glanced over just in time to see that Elise had finished examining Cas. She had glanced at them every once in a while, noticing that she was using magic to help his concussion. Maybe he was better now.

"Cas!" she said across the room, but then offered a smile to Dante and then excused herself, making her way over to them. "How's your head? Are you feeling better, you big oaf?"

She playfully punched his arm as she said oaf.

With an unsure grin, Caspar leaned back a little with the light force of it. "Ringing's gone," he answered. "Miss Elise is once again a life saver."

"I'm glad I could help," Elise said with a relieved smile.

"Yes! Elise, you're amazing," Mel cheered. "What even happened? How'd you hit your head, Cas?"

"I'm guessing," Shan cut in, eyes still glued on Animal Xrossings, "it was that mounted camera I already said I'd check later."

Caspar cast her a mildly unappreciative look.

"Oh, which one is that, Shay? The one out in the ocean?" Ethan asked, who had sunk in deep in the couch.

Dante paused. "Do we have cameras in the ocean-- Silly question, sorry. I take that back."

"Yeah, remember how we fell over the boat the other day, Cas?" Ethan said, them hummed as he scratched his chin. "We didn't get that camera back, huh."

Taking his hat from his pocket, Caspar covered his face with it out of shame. "I remember..."

Mel giggled. "What! When was this? Was this when Shan came back soaked?" She gasped. "No! Shan, don't tell me. You fell in, too?"

Shoving the device at Ethan, Shan barked a laugh. "It was only because dumdum here made me lose my footing! I would've stayed dry otherwise."

Ethan tsked and zoomed the character across the screen. "Oh yeah? Watch me dive like an expert!" The character then jumped into the ocean, swimming. "This is how it's done."

Dante let out a sigh that he obviously didn't really mean. "Please do not flip the boat over with you. I would be devastated."

"It's alright. We only lost about five cameras and all our equipment. Otherwise, we turned out fine," Ethan said idly, still distractedly swimming the character across the screen.



"The boat equipment?" Dante exclaimed.

"Yeah. What's that called? It's the sound stuff. I don't think we need it, though, honestly," Ethan said.

Shaniece roughly punched Ethan's shoulder with another laugh. "That 'sound stuff' is my shit, and it's important shit at that!"

"Oh, you mean filming equipment, not part of the boat," Dante said, sounding relieved before he cleared his throat. "Though that's obviously not ideal either."

"Oh! All the props we needed to drop off at the kidnapping island sank too. My bad. I don't know what that was even for. Hope it wasn't important, though," Ethan said.

Grabbing a pillow, Shan whacked him over the face with it. "Dude! Classified!"

"Ow!" Ethan mumbled, then whacked her back with the same pillow before turning back to his game. "Why's it even called the kidnapping island, anyways? That's what the ocean should be called since it kidnapped our cameras."

Dante looked perturbed. "How classified, exactly?"

"Oh. You don't know? I think one of the contestants will--"

Before Ethan could finish, Shaniece took matters into her own hands. Yanking the game from his grasp, she tossed it safely aside, then tackled him to the floor with her most fearsome battlecry. Ethan was caught by surprise but let out a laugh as they wrestled, clearly teasing her and making her think that he was being overpowered.

Just then, Mel noticed that Eve came out of her room, standing by the door with one hand on her elbow. She seemed shy, but she was also soooo pretty with that dress! Why couldn't she let her dress her up more often?

"Eve!" Mel said with a bright smile, bringing the attention to her. "Aw! You're so pretty! The dress looks so good on you!"

Eve's face went red as all faces turned to her (except Shan and Ethan, who were still wrestling).

"...Thanks," she said quietly.

Suddenly the TV went dark as the character fainted. It seemed that the tarantula got to them and bit them, causing the game to end.

Clarity had been so close to determining the empirical formula of one of the hydrate samples she'd brought along, all before the crucible she'd kept it in to heat up had cracked and exploded. So close. It wasn't that terrible, especially since the accident wasn't chemical in nature, but it was a frustrating experience to pick up the ceramic shards with a pair of metal tongs and know she'd only been one mass measurement away.

Plus she've have to sweep up her sample and dump it out. It was fine. This was great.

She'd just gotten all the shards in one pile together when there came an urgent tap on her door.

"Miss Clarity," Hild's voice called hesitantly, "are you...still alive?"

Clarity let out a very quiet sigh, removing the safety goggles from her face. This was embarrassing, but she didn't blame Hild for showing up. It did make a rather loud sound when a ceramic jar decided it didn't like being heated over an open flame and chose to angrily explode about it.

"Yeah, I survived," she called back. "Just an equipment failure."

"...May I enter?" Hild asked.

Clarity waved a hand around. "Sure. Don't come in holding your breath, the air's perfectly safe." Or at least, she'd been sleeping in here and it hadn't killed her yet.

After another hesitation, the door clicked open enough for Hild to peek in. Once she was certain there was no imminent threat of another catastrophe, she let out a small, relieved breath and opened it fully.

"Is there any way I could assist?" Hild politely offered.

Clarity hesitated.

"Can you please get me a new trash bag?" she asked meekly after a few moments.

With a nod, Hild briefly disappeared back into the hallway. When she returned, it was with the requested bag, as well as a broom with a dustpan, a cleaning rag, and surface cleaner.

"When's the last time you've resurfaced?" Hild asked, handing Clarity the bag and broom.

"Thank you," Clarity murmured, taking the broom and dustpan and starting to sweep up the nearly-anhydrous salt sample that was scattered on the floor, before she blinked in confusion. "Sorry, what do you mean?"

Marching over to the window, Hild threw it open, then got to wiping down any and all unoccupied surfaces. "I mean, when's the last time you stepped out of this room? Or the cabin entirely, for that matter?"

Clarity paused.

"Yesterday," she half-lied.

She'd left her room not once but twice yesterday. It was a half-lie because she had not left the cabin, however.

Hild's only response was a hum.

Clarity shrugged helplessly. "Sorry. I've got to do something while here."

Hild cast her a sympathetic glance as she dusted under a lamp. "You've got to do more than the one thing, though."

"Like..." Clarity was about to make a half-hearted suggestion of an example, before she realized she wasn't thinking of anything. Hmm.

Cleaning efforts slowed, and Hild watched as she patiently waited for Clarity to finish the thought she didn't even have.

"...I suppose I'm open to suggestions," Clarity said at last.

Hild softly snorted. "Very well. I'll be heading out to explore more of the island after lunch. If you'd like, you are welcome to join."

But the look she gave Clarity was pointed, and her decisive tone left little room to actually decline.

This was a commitment, wasn't it? Clarity made a mental goodbye to her lab work.

"Sure," she said, sweeping the last of the sample and the broken crucible into the dustpan before dumping it in the trash bag. "I can tag along."

"Excellent." Hild was about to sweep back out of the room, but paused by the door. "...Why don't you join for lunch as well," she suggested, more gently this time.

"Lunch," Clarity echoed, realizing that sounded like a good idea. She had missed a couple meals lately, or mostly been grabbing snacks to go for her room. "Sure. I guess I can. What time is it?"

At that, Hild cast her an openly concerned look. But didn't answer as she beckoned her downstairs.

Okay. That was not a great sign that she'd been keeping up with the passing of the day.

She was so great at this.

Casting a longing look at her lab, Clarity stepped out the door and followed Hild downstairs.

However, at the foot of the stairs was Clandestine with Jimbo; both looking ready for a walk.

"Oh, hey," Clarity said, looking them over. "Are you headed out?"

"Oh! Yeah," Clandestine said. "Are you guys going for a walk too?"

Clarity exchanged a glance with Hild.

"I think we were," she said.

"After," Hild added, "Miss Clarity grabs a bite to eat."

At the sound of Hild's voice, Buster appeared from around the corner. He spun happy circles when he saw them, then threw his little head back to give a small, "Awoo!"

Clarity couldn't help but give the excited dog a thin smile. "Lunch first," she agreed, feeling bad for making the excited dog wait.

"Yeah! Food is important," Clandestine said. "And Jimbo can wait too, if uh, it's ok that I join you guys? I feel like we haven't all three gotten to hang a ton!"

Slipping into the kitchen, Hild looked expectantly at Clarity, as if prompting for her to decide.

"Sure," Clarity said, looking away from Hild and just barely smiling at Clandestine. "That sounds like a good plan."

"Awesome!" Clandestine said. "I'd love that."

This wasn't how James imagined his day going. Originally, his plan was to go on a short walk to the cliffs, get some climbing in, and come back before dinner so he could catch Shane or Connie and share a meal again. He felt like he could be relaxed around them, since neither of them seemed to demand much energy to socialize and both were content to sit in comfortable silence.

However, that was not how his evening went. After coming down from the cliffs, James found himself passing by a few of the natural ocean pools by the reefs down below. Thinking he was alone, he drew near to take a peek at the natural plants and creatures living in the formations, only to (unfortunately) instead find a human.

Hendrik, James finally learned, was the name of the man who was perpetually drunk. And he was also the man who had no concept of personal space, apparently, as James found himself walking beside Hendrik - who was constantly staggering and occasionally leaning into him. Or onto him.

Just how drunk was he? James knew now that his power was to turn liquids into alcohol, but he couldn't comprehend wanting to stay drunk at all times. It was concerning that Hendrik's own powers were enabling his apparent addiction.

"Hey, you want somethin'? I can turn the ocean into wine," Hendrik said, taking out the flask that had been shoved on the side band of his speedo.

The man had been swimming. A detail he was trying to forget, since Hendrik seemed the kind of person to think less was more.

Looking away from Hendrik so that James didn't have to perceive the man's near-naked frame, James squinted in confusion.

Hendrik was greatly confusing him. Already, Hendrik had called James "Potato King," "Ken," "Barbie Guy," and "Human Lightning Rod." Where was he getting these nicknames? They hadn't spoken once prior to this.

"What? Wine not your poison? Hmph." James could feel Hendrik staring at him. "You a vodka man? You know, since you're the Potato King?"

"I don't drink," James finally said, hoping that'd put an end to the drinking discussion.

"Damn shame. I'd lose my mind if I don't drink. How the hell do you do it?" Hendrik said.

"I find other ways to cope with the troubles of life," James said.

"Like what?" Hendrik asked.

"Work. Exercise. Reading. Spending time with loved ones," James listed.

"How's that workin' out for ya? Heard your husband left. Such a shame. He had a good one," Hendrik said with a disappointed sigh.

James faltered in his steps for a moment, coming to a full stop.

"Wait a minute," James said, bringing his hands up to his face to hold his nose as he took in a sharp inhale.

"No, I'm not interested. You're too young," Hendrik said.

James was going to let that slide by. He didn't even want to think about how to respond to that.

"How... how do you even know about that?"

"About what? Your nasty ex?" Hendrik asked, standing in front of him with his hands on his hips. "Saw it on TV, of course."

James looked to the side, not sure why Hendrik felt the need to stand right in front of him. Couldn't he stay to the side, in his peripheral vision? Hendrik was practically gleaming in the sunshine. It was like he'd put oil on or something.

"What do you mean, you saw it on TV?" James asked. "I thought we weren't allowed to see our own episodes. I thought it wasn't even streamable."

"Hmph. Who told you that? They're a dirty liar," Hendrik said with a scoff. "I've seen every episode. Shit's hilarious. One time, they even aired me watching."

That was horrendous. So the other contestants did see what the others said when others weren't around? There was no privacy at all. Already, James could feel the panic and regret settling in, wondering who'd seen what and what they thought of him. Or what they even thought was true that wasn't. He didn't know how things were being spun by the cameramen. Things probably weren't as they seemed. They couldn't have been getting the whole story.

"You sure you don't need a drink?" Hendrik asked, offering James the flask. "You look like you could need it."

James face-palmed, covering his face with both hands.

"No," he groaned. "I'm fine. I still don't drink."

"We'll see about that. The Twooter polls voted you as the first person to get black out drunk and wasted. It's real. I watched it on TV," Hendrik said, retracting his offer of the flask.

"That's people's perception of me," James said with a wry, mirthless laugh as he briefly drug his hands down his face, letting them flop down to his sides.

"A real shame that it's not me, isn't it? The gall of these damn voters," Hendrik grumbled.

James found himself nearly wincing as he looked up at Hendrik again, the shine of the man's skin reflecting into James's eyes. He quickly shook his head and walked around him, starting back on his quick pace back to the cabins. Hendrik fell back into step beside him.

"We should run together sometime. If you ever need company, come knocking on my door," Hendrik said.

"You don't run in a speedo, do you?" James asked, still not looking at him.

"The hell do you think I am? No, I run in booty shorts," Hendrik said with an offended scoff.

Right. James had to bite back a laugh. He wasn't amused, but he was uncomfortable.

"Sorry," James said. "I just... come from a place where people are more modest. Culture shock, I think."

"Your country must be full of prudes if booty shorts and alcohol aren't widely accepted," Hendrik went on, still sounding offended.

"I... I mean, people drink," James said. "I just don't for health reasons."

Hendrik clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You damn normies without an indestructible liver. I feel sorry for you all."

"Yeah, well, I can't have it all," James said flatly. "I'm already near-indestructible as is."

"Yeah, I know. I've seen your fan art."

James blinked far too slowly as the sentence processed with the deepest horror.

"You're on AO3, by the way. Some real juicy fanfiction on there," Hendrik said.

Suddenly, James had the urge to tear his brain out of his head and run it under cold water. Instead, his eye twitched at the thought of what now existed on the internet now that his face was known across the world.

"Why would you read that?" James asked.

"'Cause it was of you and me," Hendrik said casually.

"Oh god," James found himself saying aloud, unable to filter it. He covered his face again in embarassment as his face began to burn.

"The nerve of some people. Everyone thinks you're some hunk ready to punch everyone," Hendrik said in disappointment. "You would never believe how they wrote us in there. They wrote me as the--"

"I don't need to know!" James interjected, louder than he intended, throwing his hands out in front of him in frustration.

"You sure you don't want that drink?" Hendrik offered. Again.

"Can we just talk about anything else?" James asked. "Something normal. Just. I don't know. Where are you from?"

"Germaknee. Ever been?" Hendrik asked, thankfully going along with the subject change.

"No," James said. "But I've read about it. I studied the language in college."

"Oh?" Hendrik turned to him before speaking in the Jerman language, "You speak Jerman? Really?"

James was so relieved by the change in topic that he let out a long sigh, nodding, but not stopping in his pace.

"Yes," he answered in kind. "I speak many languages. I'm fluent in six. You?"

"Just two. Impressive you know six, though. And unsurpsising you know Jerman. It is described as the language that sounds like you're speaking with a potato in your mouth, after all," Hendrik said, still speaking in Jerman.

James sighed.

"Right," James said, too tired to split his brain in two languages in the moment. He was still trying to scrub his memory of what Hendrik mentioned before.

"So you studied Jerman in college? That all?" Hendrik asked.

"I was a linguistics major," James said. "And I like languages. So I studied a lot on my own."

"Why the hell are you a potato farmer, then?" Hendrik asked.

Now that was finally a worthwhile question - one that no one else had bothered to ask, but for some reason, this drunken man thought to ask. James let out another sigh and looked up at the clear blue sky with a sense of dread and spite, knowing that someone was always watching. He couldn't give a wholly honest answer. Not when privacy was fiction.

"I wanted to rest," he said. "Farming is hard work, but the lifestyle is simple. And I wanted to be with my family. They're all farmers as well."

Hendrik scoffed. "So you're telling me that a man as smart as you went to college, earned that degree, then threw it all away to become a farmer?"

"I didn't throw it all away," James said. "And I'm only 25. It's not like my life is over. I can still use my degree."

"Are you really? How long are you going to be the Potato King?"

Why did Hendrik even care? This was their first ever conversation, and already Hendrik was imposing his own opinion and asking questions laced with biased life advice.

"Look, you barely know me," James said. "I have my reasons, but I don't have to explain all of them to you. If it puts you at peace, I'm not aimless at the moment. Farming is just what I need in this season of my life, okay?"

Before Hendrik could retort or impose again, James posed a question to him instead.

"What do you do?" James asked. "You know all of this information about me from TV, but I don't have the same information about you."

"Defensive, are we? Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you," Hendrik said condescendingly. "I own and run one of the world's top distilleries. We've got plenty of business in Nye. But you wouldn't know about it since you don't ask or even bother drinking. But you can remain uncultured if that's your style."

James went quiet for a moment - frankly, caught off guard by the level of condescencion. This wasn't something he even remotely wanted to argue about, and despite Hendrik saying he was defensive, James didn't have that much energy to give to his own defense. If Hendrik wanted to make assumptions, he could. James just didn't want to give out free information for viewers to take and run with.

They apparently, already had too much.

James looked down at the sand beneath their feet, and his feet were now coated in it up to his ankles. Hendrik's were much the same. They were walking in less travelled territory, so their footprints were some of the only fresh ones leading back to the cabins, which were fortunately only a few more minutes ahead. James only had to endure a little longer.

"It sounds like you've found a lot of success early on in your life," James decided to comment a bit belatedly.

"It's a family business. Liquor runs in our blood," Hendrik said.

"Does everyone in your family have the same kind of magic?" James asked.

"That's how genetics works. Doesn't yours?" Hendrik asked back.

James pressed his lips together.

Yes. Technically.

"...Yes," he decided to answer, but was aware his hesitation might give way to prying.

"So your folks and sister have the same freaky powers as you?" Hendrik asked.

James finally looked up to Hendrik, giving a frown.

"It's not..." he tried, but decided to give up on that sentence.

"Not what?" Hendrik pressed, drunkenly brushing up next to him.

Looking away, James brushed past the question. "My mother has the ability to heal herself, but it's limited, and a conscious decision. My father was the one with the enhanced durability in his physical frame. I essentially got a combination of both."

"Interesting magic you got there. Your folks must have quite a story about how they got together," Hendrik said.

James stared ahead into the distance.

"Yeah," he said. But he didn't feel like saying more.

He didn't know why, but suddenly, the wound of losing his father felt more fresh again. It ached, and he lost the energy he had before to persevere with Hendrik's company.

"So? You going to tell me or what? Don't keep me waiting," Hendrik said impatiently.

"Maybe I'll tell you another time," James said, non-commital.

"Maybe over a drink," Hendrik said with a grin.

James pressed his lips into a frown.

"I really don't want to start drinking," James said, having to cut off the 'again' that almost slipped out. "I hope you're only joking and can respect that."

"How about I give you a non-alcoholic beer? I'd have to buy it, though. I can't turn piss into fake beer," Hendrik offered.

James sighed. It was better to have non-alcoholic non-piss beer than piss-turned-beer anyway.

"...Sure," he said finally with a sigh. "I could do that."

"It's a boy's date, then."

And finally, after a few more unimportant exchanges, James finally approached his cabin and waved Hendrik goodbye. Refusing to watch the near-naked man walk off, James quickly hurried up to his porch and fiddled with the lock, probably fighting with it too much before he pushed inside, feeling the temptation to ram his head into the wall.

What the hell was that interaction?

James locked the door behind him and pocketed his keys away, but he felt everything beginning to boil to the surface quickly now that no one else was around. There were too many things to worry about, and not enough ways to ease the anxiety.

Hendrik had access to the Island Magic footage. That meant that at least his cabin did, and possibly others. It wouldn't surprise him if the censorship was selective, even - only blocking those who might use it against the DMV or to bend the rules. It had only been a week, and already James's name was seared into internet history forever in irreversible ways. His face, his image, his powers, his reputation, his history. All of it was being twisted and reinterpreted and recontextualized and all of it was out of his control. No one gave a damn about him in a way that mattered except his family, and they were the only people in the world he couldn't seem to contact.

Because he'd tried. He'd tried using Shane's phone to text and call them. But the calls and texts would never go through.

He had two months and three weeks left of this, and already he felt like his endurance was being stretched. This wasn't like the army, where he was given an order and there was a bigger picture at hand. This was a prison, and he was a toy in the game of a mastermind with a vengeful brother figure trying to make him miserable.

James didn't want to let Oliver win. He couldn't break. That was just what Oliver wanted. That was what everyone wanted, and he had to keep it together. Even if he couldn't see his family, they were still watching, and he had to keep a brave face for them.

But this was just so, so frustrating.

James wiped off his sandy feet at the door and began to hurry across the room, heading to the stairs so he could go to his room and burn off steam. That punching bag was going to fall to pieces again, but he didn't care.

However, halfway through is tunnel-vision walk, he heard a loud knock at the door.

Halfway up the stairs, something in James uncomfortably snapped, and his fist flew out, going far into the wall with a crunch.

Well, the wall was what crunched. James was...

Oh, good grief. This was perfect. James slowly pulled his arms out of the wall, looking at his bloodied fist and arm. He hadn't just punched through the drywall, but evidently into a concrete stud, and his skin broke at the fists. The hole itself was fist-sized, but sat at an awkward height, and now he was going to have to figure out a way to cover it up to avoid a conversation.

He shook his hand out, wincing as he looked at the crack and indent in the concrete inside the wall.

Cursing under his breath, he jumped when he heard the knock at the door again. It couldn't be Connie or Shane, since they had keys, so hopefully James had time to hide the hole before either of them noticed. Curling his arm behind him to hide his injured hand, James skipped down the stairs and hurried the door, forcing a placid smile as he opened the door.

He was expecting maybe Alan, or Clandestine, or Hild or Lyall, maybe. Possibly Robin, even, who usually came by silently for Connie.

But it wasn't anyone familiar. Or anyone comfortable.

Instead, it was Tula.

This time the cursing was internal.

Mireya stopped by the kitchen to pick up Oliver's order of beef tartare, wondering what had made him angry today. She knew Oliver was "vegan", which translated to him alternating between following his diet for weeks and then occasionally making up for it by eating all the red meat he would've consumed in that time. Usually, it was because something had made him angry. Why it helped him, Mireya didn't know. She didn't know why rich people thought raw beef was some sort of delicacy. But she'd have to start learning what rich people ate, because soon enough, she'd be rich too.

Platter in hand and feeling a bit like an overglorified secretary, Mireya wandered down to the cliffside, towards the secret entrance to what she affectionately called the villain lair. Stopping in front of a crevice in the rock face, she looked into the crack where she knew the secret camera was hidden, and held up the food.

"Order for Oliver," she hollered, like she was announcing it at a deli.

The rock face split open, and Mireya hurried inside.

"Thanks, Carter," she called down the hall.

She had some fun walking down the hall, because she was wearing heels (blue, of course) and it made the sound echo dramatically. She took a turn into the surveillance room, where Oliver, Maeve and Carter were already sitting at the conference table, their eyes trained on the camera footage that she knew to be from Tula's powers.

Personally, Mireya liked this footage the least. It was so shaky, because it wobbled around with body and head movements, and it was so difficult to use it for video. But for some reason, despite being the literal director, she was not consulted on this. Oh well.

As Mireya walked over to the table, still carrying the platter overdramatically, she caught an exchange between the siblings.

"You instructed her to visit his cabin, didn't you?" Oliver asked sternly.

Maeve scoffed. "Duh. Of course I did. You think I wouldn't want to capture this moment? She's literally only here to torture this man, thanks to you."

"Shhhhh. He's about to answer the door," Oliver said, leaning in towards Tula's screen.

With perfect timing, Mireya dramatically and gracefully slid the platter across the table to him as she sat down. "Here's the theater snacks," she announced.

Oliver paid her no mind, picking up the plate but keeping his eyes glued on the screen.

Typically, Mireya was shooed away. But they both seemed far too invested in the moment to interrupt her from watching.

On the screen, the door was seen opening, revealing James. James looked like he'd ran another one of his marathons around the island, from the sweat stains on his green AppleyJamps shirt and the way his face shone. His hair was in a messy bun, and he seemed to be smiling politely but stiffly. The footage bobbled as the camera-- oops, Tula-- looked James up and down, showing that he was in cargo shorts and barefoot. When Tula went back to looking at his face, James was no longer smiling, instead looking at her with a deadpan expression.

"Uh. Hello," James said, a bit stilted, like he'd been caught by surprise.

"Hey! I hope it's alright that I come by. I've been taking pictures of everyone to remember the summer since, you know-- a picture lasts much longer than a memory." Tula glanced down at the camera she was holding. "Do you mind if I take a few pictures?"

James's mouth twitched into something between a smile and a wince.

"Oh," he said. "Um."

James visibly swallowed.

"I'm not really picture ready," he said.

"Oh, that's quite alright. The best moments captured are ones that are completely candid. I love catching people unprepared," Tula said.

"That would sound weird in any other context," James said a bit flatly.

Tula laughed, although Mireya knew from the other times she'd been listening that this was a practiced laugh.

"You're funny. You know that's not what I meant," she said.

"Yeah," James said. "I just... I'm not really comfortable in front of a camera. It's a nice idea, but I think I'll pass."

Mireya snorted, whispering to Carter, "I guess he doesn't look all that comfortable right now."

"He honestly hasn't looked comfortable since he got on this island," Carter whispered back, and Mireya let out a snickered laugh.

"Quiet," Oliver ordered as Tula and James continued to talk on the screen. He was quietly eating his beef tartare, not having looked away from the screen once.

No fun, Mireya thought, but she mimed zipping her lips shut and watched the screen again.

Tula pouted. "No? Come on, James, don't be like this. You're on camera every day. How is this any different? It's not like I'm going to show this to the world."

James smiled, but there was something in his eyes that looked practically pained.

"...You got me there," he said weakly. "Okay. Fine. A few pictures. On the porch?"

"The lighting isn't so great here. The sun leaves a big glare across the lens. Mind if I snap a few pics inside instead?" Tula asked.

James, though he looked like he very much minded, also looked like he was ready for this interaction to be overwith. With a bit of a hasty nod, he backed away from the door.

"You said just a few pictures, right?" he asked. "I had a few things I needed to get done this afternoon."

"Just a few. I'll be in and out before you know it," Tula said brightly, walking inside. The footage bobbled some more, and Mireya let out the tiniest of sighs.

"Right," James said, sounding more awkward than anything.

Tula closed the door behind her. James stood stiffly in the doorway.

A few moments passed as she studied him, her vision focusing on the windows by the door. Mireya, not for the first time, had the thought that it would be cool if Tula's camera vision could zoom in and out. She'd been disappointed to learn that because eyes didn't work this way, neither did her power.

"Is there somewhere... darker? I'm sorry. The windows and the glare... I wish I brought my equipment with me," she said with a chuckle.

James's expression remained dead-pan, and he didn't budge.

"Sorry, there isn't," he said.

"So you want to stay here, then?" Tula asked.

"Yes," James said.

Wordlessly, Tula approached the two large windows by the door, pulling the blinds down so no natural sunlight went through the room. Without any of the lights turned on, the room became a lot darker. Mireya shook her head in disappointment.

"Is that really necessary?" James asked. "There are features on a camera to compesate for lighting."

Tula hummed, adjusting the blinds so that they'd be fully closed. "Are you a photographer as well?"

"No," he said. "I just... know enough about cameras to know technology has developed enough to compensate for a lot of things."

Tula stood a few strides away, readying her camera as she placed it up to her eye, the screen now focusing on James through the lens.

"A shame. I'd love to see through your eyes. I'm sure you'd have a lovely vision of the world," she said, zooming out so she could get a full image of his body.

"I have bad eyesight," James said flatly. "So you wouldn't see much."

The camera clicked, and the flash turned on.

"Carter. Do it now," Oliver instructed.

Carter reached over to a remote in front of him on the table, pressing a button. Mireya still didn't know how he kept track of all his remotes and what all the buttons did.

On the screen, the floor beneath James gave, and he sunk into the floor enough that his feet were swallowed by the floor. James's eyes went wide, and he immedieately began to attempt moving, unable to free his feet from their new floor cage.

"Oooh," Mireya exclaimed. "Is that a new feature from the cabin remodeling?"

"Quiet!" Oliver ordered more harshly this time. She resisted the urge to sigh.

The camera setting turned to record, and the flash remained on, blinding James.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Tulas asked more innocently.

"Really?" James said. "You have this shit in the cabins too? I knew you were working for Oliver."

"What?" Tula said, still innocent. "Oh, sweetie. You think I work for someone."

"I think you're sociopathic," James said. "Flipping a switch like this."

"Tell me, what's it like not being able to contact your family?" Tula teased.

"Is that what you're trapping me here for? To taunt me?" James asked in return. "Do you get some kind of sick, sadistic enjoyment out of it?"

"Oh, no, not yet. Not until I have the pleasure of running my knife through you and recording it. I plan on making a series video, actually. This is the first installment. I plan on sending it to your family when I finish."

"Oh, so you're one of those with a sick fascination with my powers," James said. "And you enjoy other people's pain. Nice. It's clear that the DMV doesn't bother with and mental health screenings with their contestants, because they clearly welcome the mentally unstable."

"Make him sink deeper," Oliver ordered Carter.

With a shrug, Carter pressed another button. James sunk into the floor further, down to his mid-thighs.

"You're pathetic," Tula said as she approached closer, still recording through the camera and blinding him with the flash. "The more pathetic you are, the deeper you sink."

"Yeah, yeah. Because trapping someone and recording them getting injured while they're vulnerable and defenseless isn't pathetic," James retorted.

"Excellent idea, James. Which one of your friends should I target next? I think I should move on to someone who is more vulnerable, don't you think?" Tula teased.

James went silent.

"Mmmm. I love it when you're silent. You should shut up more often," Tula said.

"If I shut up," he said. "Will that change whether or not you hurt anyone else?"

"Oh, you wish it were that easy, don't you? Is this how you view the world? So simple and naive? How adorable," Tula said, voice full of condescension.

James's expression turned more grim. His eyes were closed into slits, still shielding himself from the blinding light of the flash camera.

"Sink him in more," Oliver ordered Carter again.

Beep.

James sunk down to his waist, his forearms now stuck in the floor like they were encapsuled in concrete.

Tula clicked her tongue, taking another step forward. "You're running out of time, James. You know what you want me to hear. Why don't you say it?"

James was stuck hunching forward, unable to draw his arms out of the floor to straighten up. Drawing his brows together, he looked up to Tula with a quiet, resigned hatred.

"Do whatever you want with me," he said quietly. "But please... please don't hurt anyone else."

Tula playfully hummed. "Good boy. Tell me you're going to be good and not disobey me for the summer."

Mireya cringed a little at that, but tried not to show it. Okay. Tula was definitely the most unhinged of her cameras.

James looked like he was dying inside as he said: "I'll be obedient."

"Then stop spreading lies about me. Whenever I come up, you only say good or neutral things. Don't let anyone be suspicious. Our little agreement is a secret. Only I can toy with you. Do you understand?" Tula asked.

James's expression tensed, and he briefly clenched his jaw.

"I understand," he said.

"Good," Tula said more brightly. "Now bark at the camera like the obedient dog that you are."

Mireya closed her eyes and barely suppressed a groan. She probably wasn't the only one in the room resisting it, but she was not about to be the one to do it.

There was a long silence that passed.

Then a singular, mimicked "bark."

Tula then went into photo mode, capturing another photo while he was still half-way in the ground. Satisfied, she let the camera dangle around her neck again, crounching in front of him as she combed her fingers through his hair.

"I'm always watching. You may not think that I am, but I am always watching you. I'll know if you're working against me. I'll know if you're being disobedient. And you know that I know what I'd do to your cabin mates if you go against me. Don't test me," she said cooly.

"I won't," James said, barely audible.

"Good. Then this exchange never happened."

Tula stood up, putting on her fake smile again that forcefully reached her eyes. Mireya could tell because it always... crinkled the footage a little.

"Thank you for letting me take your pictures. You really are model quality. Perhaps I should come by more often. What do you think?" she asked innocently.

"Only if you want," James said in a mutter.

"We'll see. I'll come by another day. Until then-- goodbye, James."

"Send him," Oliver said tiredly to Carter.

"As you wish," Carter said. And after another press of a button, James disappeared through the floor.

Maeve hummed. "Where'd you send him to?"

"To bed," Carter said.

"Careful. You know what happens when we use the portals too often," Maeve warned.

"Confetti," Mireya said brightly.

"What the hell was that?" Oliver said to Maeve, brows knitted together in annoyance.

"What was what?" Maeve asked innocently, just as annoyed.

"What the fuck is this woman up to? You said she was a professional," he seethed through his teeth.

"Not going to lie," Carter said with a level voice. "The barking thing was mega cringe."

"It was," Mireya agreed. "Was that an... instruction you gave her?"

"Well, I thought it was hot," Maeve huffed.

Oliver face-palmed, angrily groaning. "Maeve. Do not mess this up. This isn't a game. Grow up."

"Wooooooow. We're literally making this man's life a living hell through this woman because you can't handle being a meme. Who's the child here?" Maeve spat back.

Mireya idly took a very strong interest in a screen that showed the footage of a very boring tide pool, as if this argument wasn't taking place right in front of her. The tide washed in and out about twenty times before the argument mentioned her name.

"Mireya," Oliver suddenly cut in, grabbing her attention. "You don't belong here. Please exit immediately."

"Quit bossing my assistant around. She's mine, not yours. And you have no business running anything, anyways! I'm the real one in charge here!" Maeve said with a stomp of her foot.

"Maeve, you stupid brat. Shut up and do what I say, or you're going to run this place to the ground."

"Ugh! You are always like this! This is why mom and dad never put you in charge of the show! Everyone hates you for a reason!"

Mireya, with some remarkable self-control, managed to avoid rolling her eyes as the argument went on, and then resisted the urge to protest when Oliver insisted Carter escort her out. She stood up-- with way more dignity than either of the siblings had-- and let Carter lead her out of the room and into the hall. He seemed to be keeping a professional front, as his face was rather neutral and unrevealing.

"That was a mess," she whispered to him once their voices wouldn't carry to Maeve and Oliver anymore.

"I have more meetings with them than you do," Carter whispered back. "It's not uncommon."

"It's not?" Mireya asked. "I could believe it."

"They don't get along in general," Carter said, still hushed. "It leaks in often."

Mireya winced in sympathy. "Sorry that you've got to be around that."

"It's alright. I just let them work it out amongst themselves," Carter said with a sigh. "It's not my business, anyway."

Mireya nodded. "It's family business, literally," she said, shrugging. "I don't care to know much about it."

"Best to keep it that way," Carter said. "I know more than I care to know as is."

They were approaching the door, and Mireya was wondering where to go from here. Maybe she'd bug the people at her cabin and see what they were up to.

"Apologies if that meeting felt unnecessary. I can't tell you how many meetings I've been in that simply could've been an email," Carter empathized as he magically opened the rock-faced door for her to exit. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your day and get to wind down. I'll see you later."

"Thanks, Carter," Mireya said, a little more brightly. "I'll be alright. Good luck back in there."

"Thanks," Carter said with a sigh, finally breaking into a warm smile. "I'll need it."

And once she stepped out, he pressed a button, and disappeared behind the wall with a small wave. Mireya waved back until he was gone.

Well, her job as an overglorified waiter was done now. It was time to kick back for the rest of the day.

When Shane got back to his cabin, he didn't see anyone on the ground floor, which gave him a little time to recharge his social battery before saying hi to his cabinmates again. He'd just been invited, along with Clandestine, to Alan, Cyrin and Lyall's cabin for the evening, and while he liked their company, they were all so much more extroverted than him. It had been fun, but he'd need a break now.

He took off his shoes at the door, then turned around, wondering if he should go to his room or make himself some food. As he thought about that, however, he noticed something new in the staircase. A painting of a rich blue ocean hanging on the wall, presumably one of Connie's. It looked very nice, and Shane wanted to give it a closer look. He didn't have to get close to see was that it was hung up very sloppily, and it was tilted to the side at a strange angle. Additionally, the placement was strangely low on the wall, almost touching the railing. It looked as though it had been placed with no sense of design.

"Huh," Shane murmured to himself, wondering which cabinmate had done this. He doubted Connie was inclined to hang up his work himself, but James also seemed like he'd be... better than this at DIY, at least. The whole thing didn't seem like either of their doings.

Shane moved to the staircase and took a few steps up to reach the painting. It really was a lovely work of art-- he now saw the details of soft white foam in the waves, and distant gulls soaring through the blue of the sky-- but the way it was hung up wasn't very flattering at all. He grabbed it, about to adjust the angle to straighten it out. He saw quick flashes of Connie working on the painting-- him peering at the horizon, standing on a cliff, mixing shades of cyan paint. Quaint, serene feelings of peace washed over Shane.

In the blink of an eye, he was standing above on the staircase, watching James walk up the stairs. His gaze seemed blank, and Shane nearly asked him how he was doing before he realized this was another reading from the painting. He was about to step back out of instinct when he heard the sound of knocking at the door, and James' fist suddenly flew out. Shane leaned back, eyes wide, but James didn't hit where he was standing. Instead, his fist collided with the wall, and it crumbled from the force. As Shane watched in shock, James slowly pulled his fist out of the hole in the wall, staring at his bloody fist and arm.

A short skip in time. Now James was holding the painting under an arm, banging a nail into the wall just above the hole with his hand acting as a hammer. When he was done, he hurriedly hung the painting over it. Shane felt his emotional state as he did it, but it was too blurry to pick out specific feelings. James was... spinning with overwhelment. It buried out all the other emotions under a frenzied storm of stress. He left the painting behind quickly, without bothering to adjust its awkward angle.

Shane stumbled back as he returned to the present, taking the painting with him. He bumped into the other wall behind him, fingers curling around the sides of the canvas, as he stared with wide eyes at the hole in the wall in front of him. His heart was racing with alarm, even though he wasn't sure what he was even alarmed over.

This was... James. He needed to check on James.

Shane rushed up the staircase with the painting, knocking on James' door and taking a deep breath.

"James?" he called. "Are you... okay?"

It was a bit of a senseless question, given what he'd just seen, but it was only right to open the conversation with it.

There was a uncomfortable delay of silence.

"...Shane?" he finally heard distantly from behind the door.

"It's me," Shane said, with a slight frown. Why was James asking? He would've thought his voice was familiar to him by now, and it wasn't like there was supposed to be anyone besides him or Connie in the house.

He heard some noises, like things were being hastily moved around. Heavy things. Finally, there were footsteps, and the door opened slowly with a high-pitched creak.

James looked... ragged, was probably the best word for it. Shane was used to seeing James post-workout, but his face was practically red from over-exertion, and he was drenched in sweat.

"Hi," James said with a smile that didn't quite feel genuine. "Sorry. Um. I had headphones in. What's up?"

Shane slowly nodded, and he knew he didn't appear convinced, but he moved past the likely excuse.

"Hey. I, uh, found..." Shane held up the painting. "This, in the staircase."

"Oh," James said in the way one might say a curse word. His smile twitched, starting to wane. "I... sorry about that. It was an accident."

"I'm not-- like, mad," Shane said quickly, lowering the painting. "Just concerned. I saw a little, but not very much, and..."

He trailed off for a moment, glancing between the staircase and James' face. James's expression slowly turned more tense and difficult to read.

"When you were going up the stairs," Shane said carefully, "you looked-- really on edge. Really jumpy. That's why it happened. Was something wrong?"

"Oh," he said again, but this time with a weak laugh. He almost seemed relieved. "That was-- well, it's fine, now. I'd just had a really..."

James paused, reaching up to rub his face with one hand as he let out a sigh.

"It's nothing, really, now that I think about it," James said. "I had a conversation with Hendrik. I don't know if you've spoken to him much. It was just really weird. I've processed it now, though."

Shane's expression softened. "Something upsetting?" he asked gently.

James swallowed a little too thickly to not be concerning. His body language shifted as he relaxed his shoulders, like he was physically trying to brush something off.

"It was just..." James stumbled over his words again, pressing his lips together. "Weird... internet stuff. I guess he stumbled upon things fans of the show are doing online. With, um. Me."

"...Oh," Shane said softly, furrowing his brows as he understood. He wasn't at all surprised to hear it, but that was... rightfully uncomfortable. Especially when it was happening to James amidst all the other chilling things about the island.

James shook his head and face-palmed again.

"I'm sure you deal with stuff like this all the time, being a public figure. I'm just not used to it," James muttered.

"It's-- honestly messed up when it happens to anyone," Shane said slowly, choosing his words carefully. This was such an unusual thing to comfort someone over. "I know it feels uncomfortable and gross, especially since the internet is a very weird place, and there's so much going on there that you wish you'd never learn about and then later wish you'd forget. They don't have a right to you like that, James. I'm really sorry."

James nodded faintly along with Shane's words.

"It's... I appreciate that," James said. "Nothing I can do about it really. Besides now avoid the internet."

James mustered a small smile and shrugged.

"Probably for the best my phone's dead so curiosity doesn't lead me to regret," he said. "Silver linings."

Shane forced himself to smile thinly.

"It could die down," he said, though he didn't have much faith in his words. "Things on the internet pick up quickly, but they also fade away quickly. They don't go away, but they're replaced by whatever the latest hot buzz going around is. By the time we get off the island, whatever's viral now could be a distant memory then."

"Right," James said. "I suppose that's a comfort."

Shane tried to smile a little wider for his sake, but he found his smile dying instead. There were still a couple things that were bothering him.

"And Hendrik... came across this?" he asked. "Did he find some sort of loophole through the search blocks?"

"The firewall seems selective," James said. "I don't know why."

Shane was nearly certain there was a reason for it, even if it was unknown. They were too thorough on this island to make mistakes over the firewall. Whatever gaps there were through it, they weren't weaknesses. They had to be intentional.

He slowly nodded, processing this information with what he already knew.

"I want to connect it back to Tula," he said quietly. "But I don't have much of a link, except that they're both suspicious things."

James pressed his lips into a line, his brows furrowing together.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" James asked.

Shane frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... I've just been thinking it'd be better to keep our heads down. Not poke around into things," James said, a little quieter, looking down at the floor. "And I don't know. I've had more time to think about it. I think I'm just a little paranoid and overthinking things. Tula isn't really guilty of anything besides flirting and having a note with no history. I think I read too much into it after what happened after... you know. What happened with Oliver."

Shane stared at him, wondering if he was hearing him properly.

This... wasn't what he'd been saying before at all.

"It was unnatural, James," he said, after a long pause. "Things like that don't just happen."

"But there could be any number of reasons why--" James said. "It's not--"

James face-palmed, rubbing his eyes roughly.

"I don't want to get involved anymore," he said, quieter. "I don't want you getting involved. Especially if it turns out to just be nothing. I'd rather we wait this out and play it safe. Okay?"

Shane blinked.

"Those sound like different things," he said slowly. "Either there's something afoot and getting involved is risky, or there's 'nothing' and it can't hurt to dig deeper."

"That's the problem," James said, looking up to meet Shane's eyes. "We don't know which it is. And if it's the former, then we would be-- I would be digging myself into a bigger hole than I'm already in. What about 'playing it safe' doesn't make sense?"

"James, we've been on this island for a week, and it hasn't left you alone. We're on here for eleven more," Shane said, more tiredly. "Why would you think it'd just stop if we played dead? That isn't how things change, ever."

"I'm not trying to change things," James said. "I'm just trying to survive. With the least amount of near-deaths as possible."

Shane shook his head. "The other day, you were angry. You sounded ready to lead an army through those mansion doors. Why not anymore? Are you really any less suspicious, or are you just telling me this?" He couldn't help but sound confused.

"Of course I was angry," James said. "But I've had time to process and reason through things with a clearer head."

"And what have you decided?" Shane asked quietly. "To forgive and forget and hope Oliver does the same?"

There was something in the way James's brows pinched upward that told Shane that question had hurt.

"I'm not saying that to shame you," Shane said softly. "I can see why you'd be hopeful for that. I just think you know, deep down, that that strategy isn't going to work. Not against someone like him."

James looked down at the floor again with his brows pinched together tightly and his whole face tense.

"Shane," James said lowly. "It isn't worth it. These are my problems, and I want to deal with them alone. We've only known each other for a week. You need to stay out of it."

Shane deflated, staring at him without knowing what to say as he felt a stab of pain. One week in, and he was already being told to leave him alone. His shoulders sank.

"I don't get it," he murmured. "I'm trying to understand, and I don't."

"Some things aren't that complicated," James said. "It's my life, and I choose what I want to do with it, and who I want involved. You're a good guy, Shane. But that's not you. I'm sorry."

Shane parted his lips to say something-- really, anything-- but nothing came out. Just a deep, slightly shuddering breath. James began to close the door slowly, but paused, looking up at Shane briefly.

It looked like he wanted to say something more, but instead, he just looked away and shut the door.

Shane stared at the door, standing there taking deep breaths until his eyes started to burn. He blinked and shook his head, looking down the hallway instead. It was starting to sink in, but it just-- it didn't feel right. Even if maybe he had badly miscalculated James from the start.

Why it hurt this much already, he didn't know either.

The painting nearly slipped out of his grasp, and Shane gripped it tighter, only now remembering it was there. He absent-mindedly set it back on its hanging spot, straightening it out without really looking. He then trudged up the steps to the hallway again, feeling strangely numb and strangely hurt both at the same time. His heart felt empty, but there was still an ache echoing through it.

Shane wished he could make James the promise that he would stay out of this. But even with this rejection, he didn't think he could. If there was something to be learned, and he made no effort to understand it-- it would only eat at him more than not heeding James' wish would.

He pushed through the door to his room, rubbing at his eyes to keep them from stinging. It didn't help. In fact, now that he knew he was in this effort alone, they only burned more.

"WELCOME BACK, MY LOVELIES~!" Mel's voice cut in as she popped out of a giant present box, confetti going everywhere. "Let's start the WEEEEEEKLY RECAP!"

The Island Magic theme song began to play, flamingos playing the guitar and playing the piano as sparkles and hearts flew across ths screen.

"Hello, beautiful people! Oh, it's so good to be back on studio. I've missed you all SOOOO MUCH!" Mel said brightly at her news desk, arms out extended.

She blew kisses out to the audience, and small hearts floated in the air and floated up to the ceiling.

"Oh my gosh, we have sooooo much to go through! Let's see. AN AGENDA! That'll help to keep us organized! So much content and so little time..."

The screen behind her then began to list a few things in bullet points.

• Look at these fluffy cuties!
• Who let the dog out?
• What's up with the crazies?
• Twooter's forbidden shipping polls!
• Is love in the air?
• Commercial Break
• Royal Gossip
• Girls night!
• Why are the staff so cool?!
• Interview time!
• Fan art!
• Competition!

"Phew! Think we can fill all of this in an hour? You bet we can! But not without my co-host! Everyone say hi to Shaniece!"

With a burst of confetti, Shaniece appeared in her own chair at the desk. Laughing, she brushed the confetti from her still-damp hair and teal bomber jacket.

"Dude," she said, cackling, "you're lucky I just got done getting dressed."

Mel giggled, diving right in.

"So, Shaneice-- what should we all call you? It's been five seconds and whiny streamers are already asking about your nicknames! Should we confuse ourselves and call you Shan and never put you in the same room as our beloved Shane? Or should we follow in on the trend and call you Shay?" Mel asked.

"Shit, people know about me?" Shaniece shrugged and waved. "Hey, world! You can just call me Shay."

"Shay it is!" Mel chirped. "Oh, and the world should know that we're cabin mates, too! Check out our fun times!"

The screen behind them then went through a slide deck of pictures. It was mostly selfies of Mel with Shay in the background. One was Shay overwatering her cactus, the other was Mel looking cute in her bathing suit while Shay leaned over her shoulder, smiling with a surfboard under her arm, and the other was a selfie Mel took while Shay was mid-bite eating ramen.

"We look so cute!" Mel squealed.

Shay fistpumped. "That's what's up!"

"So, Shay. What'd you think about week one so far? You've been all in the action, capturing the juiciest interviews and clips with your mic. What's the hottest goss?" Mel asked.

Folding her arms, Shay leaned back in her seat as she gave it some thought. Then she broke out in a wide smile and drummed her hands on the desk. "Yo, how about that Henny and Potato King bonding? That crap was way outta left field!"

Mel giggled. "You are so right! Did you see James's face when he realized that Hendrik had access to the stream? Gosh, I feel so bad for that man. Someone needs to put him on a vacation on this vacation island, stat. What do you think, Shay? Should we give him a massage and a pedicure? I'm sure he'd love that."

Shay scrunched her nose. "Honestly, that doesn't sound like his jam. He seems like a real lowkey guy, y'know? Simple stuff in life, or whatever."

"Oooh, yes! Like a haircut! That man needs a haircut!" Mel said enthusiastically.

"The dude's so hairy!" Shay agreed.

"Seriously! That could be his third power!" Mel giggled, then shook her head. "Alright, we've got a ton of material to cover, so let's dive right in!"



The screen then showed four different pictures: a tiny brown poodle, a massive Saint Bernard with soulful eyes, a brown tabby cat, and a small germanknee shepherd with one flopped-over ear. Below were their names: Buster, Jimbo, Shrimp, and Hugo.

"Awwwwwwwwww," Mel drew out, hands drawn on her chest, her closed fists under her chin as her eyes dazzled upon seeing the animals. "They are so adorable! From left to right, these animals are owned by Hild, Clandestine, Shane, and Caspar. Cas is our beloved cameraman, by the way. Say hi, Cas!"

There was a pause as Mel looked at Cas, who froze like a deer in headlights behind the mounted studio camera. Thankfully Ethan was manning a different camera, and he whirled it towards Cas, zooming in on his face.

"Aren't these animals soooo cute?" Mel chirped, attention back on Shay.

"They're the freakin' best!" Shay exclaimed. "Clanny's got the best room ever, hands down."

"Yes! Clanny is our adorable ray of sunshine spreading cheer and animal spirit wherever she goes. She gave Buster to Hild, and now look at her!"

The screen showed Hild bending down and petting Buster. The tiny dog sprinted in circles around her as she knelt down in the sand outside. He only settled down at last when Hild gave the top of his head a small smooch.

"LOOK AT THAT SMALL DOG! Isn't it nice to see Hild melt with cuteness? You heard it here first, folks: if the person is an ice queen, then just give her a tiny poodle puppy! That'll for sure make her smile!" Mel said brightly.

"Cuddly puppies can melt even the coldest hearts," Shay said with a nod.

The screen then went on to Shane petting Shrimp. He was grinning with the cat in his arms, while Shrimp batted at a butterfly flitting around.

"And here is our beloved Shane petting his adorable kitty. He loves this cat, and you can tell that he's sooo happy! Shrimp is his emotional support animal. Everyone should get a Shrimp," Mel said eagerly.

Shay laughed. "Yeah, I want an emotional support Shrimp!"

"But speaking of dogs... eugh, there is one dog we can't show live!"



"Here's a deleted scene, brought exclusively to you by my morning show!" Mel said.

The screen then showed James's head with a dark background, barking. That was it. Just his head barking.

Mel hummed. "What do you make of this, Shay? Seems kind of sussy, not going to lie."

Shay turned a perturbed look at the large screen behind them. "God, this guy's gotta get out of here."

"For real! We need to all give him a hug!" Mel huffed. "Speaking of weird events, that leads me to another crazy topic..."



The screen showed the portrait of Tula and Stravos. Stravos, in particular, had the glow-up filter so he'd look less disturbing to the TV audience.

"What's with the crazies on this island, anyways?" Mel asked. "It's a secret that Tula is a double agent, but only video editing people know about this-- plus me, of course! And the audience, obviously. She seems a little... not right in the head, though? The theories people are coming up about her are whack! What are your thoughts on all this, Shay?"

Shay looked straight at the camera. "Yo, you guys have theories? I need to find that ASAP. Oh! We should have, like, some actual doctors tune in, give their input. I want an official diagnosis on that lady."

"That's a great idea! But do you think an official diagnosis would help Stravos some more? That man is a liiiiittle kooky, don't you think?" Mel asked.

"Guy's house gotta a deadbolt on the outside," Shay said. "'Kooky' is the understatement of this season."

"You're so right! They both need professional help. But I have to say, the audience is loving the drama. There are some crazy Tula worshipers out there from three years ago, and they're back at it parading down the street! Let's have a look at what's happening in Gothnam."

The screen then showed a live stream of a large parade of people dressed in all black, wearing gothic and punk attire. They were screaming for anarchy and Tula, throwing knives and weapons and drinks in the air. One person in particular screamed into the camera and screamed, "LEAVE TULA ALONE!" while crying.

"Man, I wished I had that many fans," Mel mused. "Imagine having a whole street devoted to you because you're psycho. Isn't that so cool?"

Shay stared straight-faced at the camera again. "Y'all need help."

Mel giggled. "Okay, so, Shay! There's been some spicy gossip that something juicy had happened between Tula and Stravos. What are your working theories? I mean, really. Stravos. With Tula." Mel glanced up at Stravos's filtered glammed-up face, scrunching her nose. "Really?"

"Ehhhhh." Shay slowly shrugged, looking likewise unsure, and actually quite disturbed. "If they are a thing, I guess they kind of deserve each other?"

Mel tried so hard to not make a grossed-out face. Her smile twitched.

"Let's wish them nothing but happiness!" she sing-songed instead. "We'll see what crazy evil plans Tula could be cooking up next week, but speaking about forbidden love... let's move on to our SHIPS!"



The screen behind them then listed out different list pairings.

- Alan and Shane: Shalan
- Alan and Clanny: Alanny
- Alan and Hild: Hilan
- Alan and Lyall: Lylan
- Alan and Cyrin: Cylan
- James and Hendrick: Jendrik
- James and Hild: Jild
- James and Eve: Jeeves
- Tula and James: Jula
- Tula and Alex: Tulex
- Connie and Robin: Ronnie
- Shane and Clanny: Shanny

"My, my, that's quite a list that Twooter generated! These are our top results," Mel said, and then a tablet poofed into existence in front of Shay. "You've been around the contestants more than me, Shay! Which ones do you think could actually amount to something? Try dragging and dropping the names to the yes and no buckets!"

Shay turned her attention down to the drag-and-drop game in front of her with a snicker. "My guy Alan's really got that rizz, huh?"

"He's certaintly been busy!" Mel said with a giggle.

Gameshow music played as the audience watched Shay drop and drag the names in real time.

YES:
- Jeeves
- Ronnie
- Tulex
- Hilan
- Lylan
- Shalan

NO:
- Alanny
- Jendrik
- Jula
- Cylan
- Jild
- Shanny

Mel hummed, watching as Shay submitted her response. "Interesting! Which ship is your favorite?"

"Aw, man," Shay said with a silly pout, "I have to pick? I mean, I know which one I don't really like, at least." She scratched her head. "You know what, Jeeves seems like a pretty natural match. They vibe, and I like that."

"They do! Plus, I love the official ship name. Even AskJeeves Twooted out that they approved!" Mel said with a giggle. "But let's start with the no's first, shall we?" She highlighted Alanny. "You don't think Alan and Clanny have chemistry? He did give her flowers!"

Shay shrugged. "I don't know, it's more like...friend chemistry? Fremistry, if you will."

"Totally fair! I can see that with Cylan as well. I do think there's usually a romantic implication with flowers, but maybe Alan doesn't know about that. Anyways, we have a whole segment about that later! How about Jula? You don't think they'd make a perfect couple?" Mel teased.

Shay shook her head, making a disgusted noise. "Leaves a bad taste."

"The internet is so weird. Oh, and Jendrik scored pretty high on the Twooter polls despite them hardly talking to one another, actually!"

"And especially after that brutal shutdown!" Shay added, smacking both hands on the desk.

The screen behind them then replayed Hendrik friend-zoning James as he said, "No, I'm not interested. You're too young for me."

"Such a shame! They could have made a cute couple!" Mel said.

"They could've been lit," Shay cackled. "They're both ripped as hell!"

"I KNOW RIGHT?! I voted them as my top Twooter ship rankings." She giggled again. "Anyways, I see you said Jild was a no. They seem like they vibe too! Do you think they're better as friends?" Mel asked.

"Eh," Shay said noncommittally, "I could be wrong. I just don't see it."

"Fair enough! We'll see what happens!" Mel said brightly. "Now about your yes list. Ronnie is pretty cute, right? Look at them!"

The screen then showed montages of Robin in wolf form scratching at the bird cabin's door every morning at exactly thirty minutes before sunrise every day. And every time, Connie would come out with a tote of art supplies, nod at him, then walk with him in silence to see the sun rise privately. Robin curled under his feet as Connie painted for hours in silence. In the last painting clip, the camera zoomed to a little black figure in Connie's coastal cliffside painting. It looked like he included a wolf in his painting.

"I mean," Shay said, pointing with vindication at the close up of the painting, "c'mon. How could I not? They're so sweet together!"

"Yes! They are so adorable! Plus, Connie deserves some love. I mean, just look at him. How does a man this gorgeous exist?"

The screen then showed several magazine modeling pictures of Connie with his six-pack, straight-faced with his shirt open.

Indulging Mel, Shay glanced over the screen with a hum and simple, "Toit."

"...Anyways!" Mel continued, finally prying her eyes away from Connie's model pictures. "What about Tulex? You think this dysfunctional pair will have a thing going? I can see it, actually!"

"Meh, there's potential for it to be...something," Shay answered. "Like, they'd work, but they wouldn't be good, y'know?"

"A running theme of the island, I see!" Mel mused. "Let me tell you a secret about Jeeves. Tomorrow is the Speed Dating event, and they're slated to score each other as their top choices! This is based on kitchen appliance, dance, and animal compatibility, so obviously, this quiz is first-rate!"

Mel's co-host simply laughed at that.

[transish] "That leaves me with the last pairings and our next topic..."



The left side of the screen showed Alan's portrait, and the right sid of the screen was evenly divided between portraits of Shane, Hild, and Lyall.

"It's been only one week, but it seems that Alan has been sparking it up between Shane, Hild, and Lyall! Do you think he's actually flirting with all of them?" Mel asked.

Leaning back now and clasping her hands behind her head, Shay snorted. "Dude's gotta cool his jets if he's not. Could send some wrong signals somewhere, y'know."

"Fair point, Shay!"

The screen then showed scene of the innocent pink flowers he gave Clanny, the frequent duets and dinners he takes with Hild while holding constant eye contact, the private and intimate ocean swim with Shane, and the over-the-top and high-effort brunches he put together for Lyall. Other scenes of him praising everyone were sprinkled in as well.

"Do you think any of these could be 'wrong signals'?" Mel asked.

"For sure," Shay hummed, with no hesitation.

"Not to mention what he said to James the other night!"

The screen then went on to show James and Alan standing by the ocean shoreline at night, with Alan going on about how he was a pessimist with love with the implications that he had recent heartbreak.

"Is this man playing with people's hearts or what? Either way, I'm sensing some future drama up ahead!" Mel said. "For now, the Twooter polls are debating who he'll win over first. It's our most debated poll of all time!"

"Yooo!" Shay laughed. "And it's only the first week!"

"Anyways! We have to take a brief break now. First, a quick word by our sponsors: KROKS!"

Fever Dream Krok Commercial wrote:A scene from Island Magic started playing in which Lyall said, "Have you seen these abominations? They look like they came straight from a western showdown. Got all shot up."

The screen faded to black.

Then, ACTION!

A giant holeless, red, glittery krok was running-- yes, the shoe was running-- in a western town. It hid behind a saloon door, jumping behind the bar and panting. At least, that was what it looked like.

The krok peeked up over the bar, seeing the shadow of a man, at first a silhouette as he entered the saloon. The low red sun behind him cast a tall shadow across the floorboards.

"Show yerself," the stranger called with an exaggerated southern drawl, "you crime against humanity!"

The krok shuddered at his presence, dipping down below the bar and shaking. There was nowhere left to run. The consequences of its dastardly deeds had finally caught up to it. In an attempt to find freedom, the krok suddenly bolted for the door at the left side of the room, revealing itself to the man.

The camera panned out. As the stranger took a firm stance in the center of the saloon, he narrowed his gaze from under the brim of a ten gallon hat at the sentient shoe. His hand hovered over a shining pistol on his hip, and a brass badge on his vest identified the stranger as Lyall himself.

The shoe was fast, but Lyall was faster.

All in the blink of an eye, he spun the pistol from the holster to his hand, flicked off the safety, and--

Bang bang bang!

Bullets fired at the krok, and it sizzled and whined as holes then littered its entire body. It shuddered and shook like a leaf in the wind, shrinking and shrinking and shrinking until it was shoe-sized and still.

Lyall's shadow fell over its fallen, shrunken body. After contemplating his swift victory, he picked it up and out of frame.

The scene suddenly cut to Shane, tied up to a chair with a lasso and wearing an elegant blue gown that looked heavily inspired by a certain Didney princess. He leaned forward against the rope, struggling to get loose. The camera panned down to Shane's feet, revealing that he was only wearing one red, sparkly, holey krok.

Through the window beside him, Lyall clambered in. "I've slain the beast, my prince!"

Down on one knee, Lyall proceeded to ceremoniously place the krok on Shane's foot, and the moment it was in place, the lasso tying him to the chair magically vanished, with a victorious-sounding banjo ditty playing. It faded into the background with CGI sparkles.

"Oh, thank you, you've saved me!" Shane exclaimed gratefully, stretching out his now-krokked feet and taking Lyall's hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you, my hero."

"Now that I'm here, darlin', there's something I've always wanted to tell you," Lyall declared with great feeling as the lights around them softened. "I..."

"Love..." Shane continued dreamily.

"KROKS!" they both exclaimed, turning to the camera and jumping up in the air.

When they landed, they were no longer holding hands, but both holding a single red krok between them. The two of them grinned at the camera before both kissing the krok.

The picture of them kissing the krok froze on the screen as the krok logo flew in, bright cheery music playing in the background.

"COME ON OVER TO FANCY FEETWEAR AND FIND YOUR TRUE LOVE TODAY!" a narrator's voice said as a giant wall of terms and conditions scrolled down the screen faster than the speed of light, before all faded to black.

"Wow! That was such a cool commercial! Can you believe it was written by three bored writers on the internet who are big fans of the show? Crazy and surreal!" Mel said.

With her head on the desk, Shay's shoulders shook with uncontrollable laughter.

Mel tried so hard to control her laughter as well, but she had to stay professional since Kroks was paying her to have this moment, after all.

"Another big thanks to our sponsors, Kroks! Best commercial ever! Nothing weird will come out of this at all!" she said brightly. "Anyways, let's move on to the next topic."



The screen was divided between a portrait of Shane and a portrait of Connie.

"Things seem tense between Shane and Connie, don't you think, Shay? You'd think that two royals would get along!" Mel said.

Finally recomposing herself, Shay propped her chin on her arm. "Yeah, but is that really so surprising? Connie ain't exactly a peach to be around."

"You're right, he's too chiseled to be a peach! But others definitely find him peachy. Here's more footage of his friends."

The screen showed clips of Connie mostly hanging out with Robin again, but there was also some footage of him spending time with James. It seemed it wasn't uncommon for them to sit and talk on the beach porch.

"But it's no secret that he is hard to get along with. Shane, however, is such a big sweetie! Check out his friends," Mel said.

The screen then went on to show Shane smiling and mostly hanging out with James, Clanny, Alan. There were a few quick clips with others, but it seemed to mostly be these three.

"You know, it's interesting that James seems to be the mutual friend here," Mel mused. "Maybe he's the secret to their future royal friendship!"

"'The Princes and the Potato Popper' does have a nice ring to it, right?" Shay agreed with a snicker.

Mel giggled. "Oh my gosh, Shay, stop! That is too funny! You're going to give fans on Twooter ideas!"

"Yeah!" Shay whooped. "Fuel for your fire, Twooter!"

"Let's move on to a subject I can't wait to talk about: our beautiful ladies!"



The screen showed clips of Hild, Clarity, and Clandestine exploring the island. They went to nature reserves where Clanny picked out shells and pointed out dolphins and starfish, translating what they were saying. They also went through the plaza where they thoroughly examined the library and then ate dinner together until sundown. They were all smiling, laughing, and having a good time.

"Awww, isn't that sweet? They're all bonding!" Mel said. "Except... Eve isn't there. That's kind of weird, isn't it?"

Shay just scoffed. "Dude, we know where Eve's been."

Mel giggled. "Perfect segue into my next topic!"



Mel threw her hair behind her shoulder dramatically. "Yup, this totally isn't a self-plug, but we are pretty cool, aren't we! Eve's been hanging out with us, after all." She paused. "We sadly do not have any footage, but we do have a few pictures captured by our drones!"

The screen showed a slide deck of pictures of an aerial view of Eve and Cas walking through the woods. It was hard to see since they looked like dots, though. There were also aerial pictures of Eve in front of the boys' cabin, pictures of her in front of the girls' cabin, and pictures of her walking back with Dante accompanying her on the trail. Mel and Shay were in some of the aerials, along with a few others. The last part of her and Dante was a video since they were no longer in the staff territory, but it was fairly uneventful.

"Look at her in her dress! Isn't she so pretty? I picked that out, by the way. In case anyone in the audience is wondering," Mel said with a smile and shrug.

Shay hummed as she watched the screen behind them with a fond grin. "She's real pretty," she agreed wholeheartedly. "Hope she knows that."

"Me too! She's really cool! Except I hope she also makes friends with the other contestants. I have faith in her, though!" Mel said. "Especially because she's teeeechnically not allowed back in the staff area. But oh well!"

Still resting with both arms folded on the desk, Shay blew a stray lock of hair from her face. "Ayo, Mel. How long 'til I die in a burst of confetti?"

"In a few seconds!" Mel said cheerily. "Say byyyyye, Shay!"

"Sweet!" Shay straightened and waved at the camera. "See you, weirdos!"

Mel pressed the red button in front of her, and Shay disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"That was fun, but now we move on to my favorite part: INTERVIEWS!" she said excitedly. "We usually pick the contestants we haven't yet interviewed who made the biggest splash, and today, we decided that was Shane! Let's bring him in, shall we?"

Mel pressed a blue button in front of her, and Shane suddenly poofed in the seat next to her, confetti flying all around him as cheery music played. Shane's eyes flew wide with shock as he gripped the sides of his chair, looking panicked and standing halfway up. He was wearing the same flannel he'd been wearing for the latest day, having apparently not changed for bed. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and puffy as he scanned the recording studio, looking around frantically until his gaze landed on Mel.

"Gooooood morning, Shane! Welcome to the montage show! My name is Mel, and I'm the host. It's nice to finally meet you! I'm so excited you're here!" she greeted enthusiastically.

"Hi," Shane managed weakly. "The montage show?"

"Yup! Every week, we select two contestants to get interviewed. You're our lucky contestant of the day! Isn't that exciting?!" Mel said.

Shane sat down, shrinking back in his chair. "Thrilling," he said quietly.

Mel hesitated, still smiling for show, but not wanting to rush into this interview.

"How have you been so far, Shane? You're a fan favorite! You're so darn sweet. It's so hard not to love you," she said.

Shane smiled weakly, swallowing and adjusting his posture. "It's been a real year of a week," he admitted. "There's a lot going on."

"Awh... I'm sorry to hear that. Anything you want to talk about? You have a lot of ears being lended to you right now!" Mel said. "The floor is open if you want to talk."

"I'm okay," Shane said quickly. "So, an interview, is that right? Am I answering questions?"

"Yup! We can dive right in if you'd like. Do you have any other questions or comments before we begin? Do you want any water? Coffee? Hugs?" Mel offered.

Shane put on a brave face. "Coffee would be great, actually, thank you."

A mug of coffee then floated down from the ceiling, landing on a coaster in front of Shane. A little of the coffee spilled from the rim, but it was otherwise a graceful landing. Shane picked it up with surprise, spinning the mug around in his hands to see it on all sides.

"There ya go! Don't you love island magic? It's a real treat!" Mel said with a big smile.

Shane took a sip, nodding after a moment. "It is good," he agreed. "I guess I'm ready."

"Alright! Let's dive right in! Here's the first question by one of our top fans, urbanhart."



Shane hummed, wrapping his fingers around the mug. "That's a good question. I'll be headed back to Aphirah, and then I'll... have to start getting ready to be Heir for real, I guess."

"A very noble act! That sounds exciting! Are you excited?" Mel asked.

Shane laughed nervously. "Not exactly. But I'll adjust. Eventually."

Mel nodded enthusiastically. "You got this. I believe in you! Moving on, our next question is submitted by our other top fan, @soundofmind."



The smile that touched Shane's face now looked a little less forced. "Oh, I get this question a lot, honestly," he said. "I wish I had an exciting answer. The truth is, I am just really bad at naming things, and I'm so bad at it I don't even have inspiration for bad names."

"I think it's a perfect name! Not everything needs to have a reason. Silly answers are just as valid!" Mel said with another encouraging nod. "This next question is submitted by our last top fan, @Carina."



This gave Shane pause, and he took a long sip of coffee.

"Oh," he said hesitantly. "Does he... dislike me? I didn't think I had to win him over."

"Fair enough!" she said, glossing over his question. "The next set of questions are all submitted by Twooter users. You're a royal, so naturally, you're super popular! You have so many questions people want you to answer! Isn't that great?!"

He laughed, but it sounded like he was forcing it to come out. "Sounds very fun."

"Here's the first question!"



Shane's eyes widened slowly as he read the question.

"Who's... hotter," he echoed. "Um, why am I being asked this?"

"Not sure! The internet sure is weird, huh!" Mel said brightly.

"Um..." Shane stared down into his cup of coffee, like it somehow held the answer, or maybe just the answer of how to get out of the situation. "I don't know, they're both conventionally attractive in different ways. I haven't exactly been thinking about this."

"Food for thought for sure! Here's your next question."



At this, Shane's head snapped back, like he'd just gotten whiplash.

"Yet?" he asked, his cheeks turning pink.

"Yeah! Looks like that's what the question asked!" Mel exclaimed.

Shane stared straight ahead distantly, and it was obvious the man needed more coffee, but he didn't raise his mug.

"No, we have not kissed," he said. "But why am I being asked--"

"Awww, okay! Let's move on to the next question," Mel cut in quickly.



Shane, who had just bravely decided to take another sip of coffee, visibly choked.

"Of... me and Alan?" he asked after he recovered, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. "Is that what this is asking?"

"Oooh, good question! Let's look at the stats."

The screen listed the statistics of the top pairings for AO3 of the current season of Island Magic. Shalan consisted of 69% of the pairings, Jendrik was 16%, Jula was 5%, Hilan was 4%, Ronnie was 2%, and the remaining 4% were mostly other pairings for James and Alan.

"Looks like it, yeah!" Mel exclaimed again, nodding to his earlier question.

Shane was turning shades of red that cameras had never captured before.

"No," he said faintly, clearing his throat before attempting to speak louder. "I haven't read any of them."

"Well, you have plenty of time to read them if you'd like!" Mel said brightly, then moved on. "Here's the next question."



Again, Shane stared at the screen, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

"I assume that's a funny way of saying 'player', and not the term for a dry lakebed in a desert," he said weakly.

"Yup, that's right!" she said with a big smile. "I'm being requested to also show you this footage, which we have already talked about on today's show."

The screen then divided into four sections, replaying the same footage of Alan supposedly not-flirting-but-maybe-flirting with Hild, Shane, Lyall, and Clandestine.

Shane's gaze darted over each footage clip, difficult-to-read emotions flashing over his face.

"Well," he said distantly, "I guess I was not aware."

Mel was about to move on like her script suggested, but decided to go a little rogue and insert her own commentary.

"It might not mean anything, you know. The question is totally misleading. I wouldn't draw any conclusions from this, but that's just my opinion," she said.

"No, yeah. Totally, it's just some videos," Shane mumbled, quickly hiding his face behind the mug as he drank down half his coffee.

"That's right! Let's move on to the next question, shall we?"



By now, Shane just looked tired rather than scandalized by the question.

"Hotel rooms," he said by way of answering, very wearily. "How many more questions are there?"

"Oooh, that sounds crazy spicy! What's your spice tolerance, anyways? Mild, medium, or hot? I'm making salsa!" Mel said.

Shane rubbed his eyes, which were still a little bloodshot. "For salsa, maybe medium to hot."

"Noted!" Mel hummed. "Thanks for sticking with us, Shane. I have one more question for you! This one is submitted by today's sponsor."



"Green ones," Shane said, very quickly, after hearing it was the last question.

"Good choice! I hope you're ready to be gifted a million green krokaroos!" Mel said with a giggle. "Alright, we have two more sections to go through. My co-host reached her time limit, so you're my sub-in for the rest of the show, Shane! Are you ready?!"

"Time limit--?" Shane cleared his throat. "Um, sure. I got this."

"Let's talk about fan art!" Mel said excitedly.

The screen then showed dozens and dozens of different fanart between the contestants. There was at least one for every contestant, every defining moment, and even every ship. The top rated one was still of James with ripped abs, tearing his shirt on day one.

"We've got a ton of crazy fanart! What kind of fanart do you want to see? I'll filter through it and pull it up! Feel free to name a moment or person," Mel said.

Shane hesitated for a long moment. "Um, maybe Cyrin," he said, after probably realizing he wouldn't get away without choosing someone.

"Anything in particular you want to see? We've got thousands of pics of him," Mel said.

Shane slowly shook his head. "Surprise me," he said, looking like he was about to regret the words.

Mel hummed, typing and clicking away on her tablet, knowing just the one to pull up.

"Here we are! This is a good one! Meet Moopet Cyrin!"





Shane let out a burst of shocked, incredulous laughter. "Okay, I guess I'm surprised," he said. "That is... creative. Not bad."

"We have more moopet fanart, actually! Want to see? It's of the rizz cabin!" Mel said.

"The who?" Shane asked confusedly.

"The charisma cabin, silly! Where Cyrin, Alan, and Lyall live!"

"I guess I understand the naming," Shane said.

"Aaaaand here we are. The moopets!"





"Isn't this soooo funny? It's drawn by @urbanhart! She's been making a ton of fanart! Isn't she great?!" Mel said.

Shane mustered up a weak smile. "Yeah, it's fun."

"Anyhoots, let's move on to the last topic before we sign off for the hour. Are you ready to hear some big news, Shane?! You'll be the first to hear!" Mel exclaimed.

He shifted in his seat. "What's the big news, Mel?" he said, like he was delivering a line off a script, but was doing it flatly.

"For the first time ever, the DMV is holding an unofficial competition! They are calling to arms for fanfic writers everywhere to submit as many stories as possible of the contestants! The winner gets a large sum of money! A jackpot! Isn't that fun?" Mel said excitedly.

Shane slow blinked, his cheeks now paling slightly instead of flushing.

"Must be fun for the winner," he agreed half-heartedly, as a faint look of dread began spreading across his face.

"Totally! We'll see what kind of juicy stuff we'll get in by the end of the month!" Mel said. "Anyways, we're approaching your time limit. Any last words, Shane? Any burning questions or comments? Now's your time to shine!"

Shane started to open his mouth, but then just shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Thanks, Mel."

"No problem! Enjoy your time at Speed Dating today! I'm sure you're going to love it!"

"Speed what--" Shane started to ask nervously.

"Byyyyye Shane!" Mel cut in, pressing the button in front of her.

Shane then poofed in a puff of dust and smoke, and right on cue, cheery music played as Mel lifted her arms for a goodbye.

"And that's a wrap, folks! Thanks for sticking around! I'll see ya tomorrow morning for the next montage! Until then, enjoy the show!"

The screen faded into credits with cute music, the Island Magic logo bouncing around the screen with more flamingos singing and playing instruments.

ON TO WEEK 1 EVENT:
SPEED DATING!

So this really was hell.

Never in his life had James thought he'd be forced to attend something like speed dating. But now, here they all were, in a large, open room filled with tables and chairs where the decor screamed of Valemteens Day.

Everything was pink and red. Glittering hearts hung from the ceiling in dangling strands. Swirling streamers swooped between them. Every table had a light pink tablecloth and two white chairs with heart-shaped backs. The room was lit with hanging heart-shaped lamps over every table, occasionally pulsing brighter at a slow rate.

Everyone was gathered at the entrance of the long, rounded room. Most of the wall was composed of windows facing out towards the sea, where the ocean was crashing against the rocky sands. In their invitation they'd received on their bedside tables that morning, the dresscode read: "Dress to impress."

In one last act of rebellion, James wore his "fart reverb fx" shirt.

He was now, as he was sure anyone else would have already guessed, far beyond caring. He had no reputation to protect anymore, and he didn't know how long he was going to last if this was just the first week. He was desperately trying to keep his head above water, but he'd already burned his bridge with Shane. How many more bridges did he have to burn to keep Tula's secret? Would it end up protecting anyone, or would everyone get messed with and tortured anyway? He didn't know, but he was going to do everything he could within reason to bear it so that others didn't have to.

Natural light flooded the room, and James squinted as more lights on the ceiling flickered in reds and pinks. Music had started to play, and it was some romantic song by Michelle Bubble that played in every cheesy Hailmark movie.

Staring up at the glitter-infested ceiling, James heard Mel's voice carry over a microphone. The woman was seated on a platform on the other side of the room behind a standing desk. She, too, matched the room in excessive pinks, but she was dressed in a long gown. Aside from James (and Stravos), everyone was at least dressed decently. Or nicely. Even Shane had shown up in a button-up after being forced out of his room by Connie and James.

Neither of them wanted to be there, and they'd hardly spoken that whole morning on the walk over. The three of them had never been that chatty as housemates, but even Connie seemed to pick up on the fact that something was off.

Maybe it was the fact that neither James or Shane looked like they slept. Connie wouldn't have sensed them dreaming or sleeping at all, so it wasn't like either of them could lie about staying up all night.

Fortunately, Connie didn't seem to care, and he didn't mention it.

"Welcome, Island Magic contestants to an afternoon of Magical Meetings!" Mel chirped cheerily on the microphone. "If you look at the digital on the tables, you'll find your name along with your match, ranked by our top secret alogrithm from a survey you took when you interviewed! Please find your table and take a seat so we can get started!"

Though no one seemed too enthusiastic, everyone began to slowly wander around the room, scanning the tables and taking their seats. The love song continued to play distantly in the background, and James couldn't help but feel like he was in some kind of dystopian movie. This didn't feel real.

James paused when he saw his name lit up on the display screen in the center of the table reading: James and Tula. There were candles around the screen burning, and two drinks already prepared.

One was a drink of water, the other looked like a large shot of Arak.

Well he knew which one was his.

Taking the glass of water, he sat down and slid it closer to himself, not trusting the drink but not wanting it to touch Tula regardless. Tula was quick to find her seat and slid into the seat in front of him.

"Good morning, James," Tula said politely with a smile. "Looks like we're each other's top compatible match."

Of course they were. James didn't know if this happened by accident or on purpose. Either way, he was burdened with her company.

"Good morning," James managed to say politely in return.

"Ah. It's rude of me to not offer a drink, since you only have water." She slid the glass of Arak towards him. "Why don't we share?"

James summoned an easy smile.

"That's very generous of you," James said. "But I don't drink. I'll stick to my water, thank you."

"Oh, but I insist," Tula said more forcefully with a devilish smile that implied she wasn't asking, but demanding.

Smile wavering, James looked down at the drink, wondering how petty the consequences would be if he still said no.

"Well," he said. "In that case."

Reaching over, he took the shot, carefully sipping so half was left. It burned in his throat, but he didn't let it show as he set it back down.

Satisfied, Tula took back the glass, downing the rest of the shot effortlessly.

"Now we're ready for speed dating," she teased.

James took a sip of water, only giving a small nod of his head in response.

"Alright contestants!" Mel chirped over the microphone.

Thankful for the interruption, James turned his attention to Mel, letting his eyes scan the room. He noticed Shane was facing towards him, and he was at a table with Alan, seated behind them.

Shane looked nervous and even shy, but he was at least smiling for Alan in a way that did seem genuine. He met James' gaze for the briefest moment, then looked at the back of Tula's head, then back to him. After that, he dropped his gaze back to his table and laughed at something Alan said, returning his attention to him, but not before James caught a brief flash of the same hurt he'd seen last night in his eyes.

James looked away.

Damn it all if he was going to let Tula ruin his relationship with everyone around him.

He had to figure out a way to communicate with Shane discreetly.

"Now that you've all greeted each other, please give your attention to the display screen with your names. It should change to reveal to you our three super awesome icebreaker questions!"

As if on cue, the display screen transitioned with a wave of sparkles to reveal three questions written in cursive font.

1. Do you believe in luck or fate?
2. What is the most adventurous thing you've ever done?
3. What's something you've always wanted to try but haven't gotten around to doing?

"Feel free to take your time going through them as you get to know your date," Mel continued. "But keep in mind - once ten minutes is up, you'll be mixed around again!"

An excessively large gong appeared out of the ground next to Mel, and she swung at it with a hammer. It rang out loudly, and she sang over the sound: "Now let the matchmaking begin! Your timer starts now!"

Not wanting to in any manner engage in organic conversation with Tula, James immediately turned his attention to the screen between them, scanning the first question before looking back up to meet her eyes.

"Well, I guess we'll start with number one," he said. "Would you like to do the honor of answering first?"

"I'd love to," Tula said with another obviously-practiced smile. "I, personally, believe in fate. I think some people are fated to be together. I find that quite beautiful and refreshing, actually. Do you agree?"

James wore a smile just as practiced as her own, and he leaned on the table with both elbows, nodding as she spoke.

"It is quite beautiful," he said. "Though personally, I don't believe in luck or fate. I believe in choice and circumstance. There are always things outside of our control, but we always have influence at the very least over how we choose to respond. In my opinion, calling it luck or fate removes the human dynamic of personal responsibility, as well as the responsibility of others."

Tula hummed. "Then what, in your opinion, would you call a situation where someone is in dire, deathly circumstances? No matter how hard they try, they are always beaten down, humiliated, and hurt?"

"Well, it can't be bad luck if there are people or natural sources responsible for causing those circumstances," James said.

"And if people or natural sources are not responsible for those circumstances?" Tula asked.

James's smile turned a little more venemous.

"Give me an example," he said.

"Oh, I don't know. Let me think," Tula said casually as she leaned back on her chair, hand out in front of her. "Say, for instance, no matter what you do, you're unable to contact your family. You can't help but despair and think of the worst. Is that bad luck?"

"No," James said slowly. "That's not bad luck."

"Then what is it?" she pressed.

"Unfortunate," he said.

"One could argue that is a synonym for bad luck," Tula remarked.

"I'm sure one could," James said. "But alas. I am picky about my semantics."

He turned his attention down to the screen again.

"Well," he said. "I guess that leads us to question two. What's the most adventurous think you've ever done?"

Tula hummed. "Unfortunately, I live a rather boring lifestyle. However, I was able to make my dog bark on command the other day. I'd say that was fairly adventurous."

James had to force a placid expression, but internally, he had the urge to lunge across the table and choke her. Perhaps it was too visceral of a reaction, but frankly, she'd done nothing but taunt and humiliate him thus far.

"I never pinned you as an animal person," he said.

"No?" she said innocently. "I'm not, really. But this dog can't get enough of me, so I let him stay."

"How magnanimous of you," James said.

"Are you an animal person, James?" Tula asked.

"I appreciate them, yes," James said. "Coming from a farm, I've worked with them plenty."

"A farm. Do you slaughter them?"

"Some farms do," James said. "But ours mainly focuses on eggs and dairy, not meat. So no."

It wasn't entirely honest. He'd slaughtered animals before, but it wasn't a regular practice.

"I see. Surely, however, you've come across days where you've had to put an animal down. Perhaps a sick chicken or an old cow," she said.

"Why the sudden curiosity with killing animals?" James asked with a tilt of his head.

"Just making conversation. We are to get to know one another, correct?" Tula said with another smile, mirroring his head tilt.

"Something like that," he said. "I've never considered speed-dating as a way to really get to know someone."

"No? Then what ways would you consider to truly get to know someone?" Tula asked.

"I think people show their true colors when no one else is watching," James said.

"I respectfully disagree. People show their true colors when they're being watched," Tula said, still with the same smile.

"Then I suppose that's where we disagree," James said.

He looked down at the list again.

"Alright. Next one--"

"Now hold on, James," Tula cut in. "You haven't answered the second question."

"Ah. Right," James said. "I forgot."

"I'm sure you did," Tula said with feigned politeness.

James looked up to meet her eyes.

"Thank you for being so understanding," he said. "I need a moment to think."

"Of course. Please, think through this question so you can indulge me with your answer. I'll keep watching you, of course, since I'd like to see you speak with your true colors," she said.

James didn't feel like responding to that. Tula was painfully obnoxious with how often she was constantly trying to twist his words around and use them as weapons against him. It was exhausting, and he was tired of trying to fight a battle he knew he wasn't going to win.

Staring down at the display screen, he held his glass of water loosely, tapping the side with his finger.

He had a feeling Tula had probably been given information about him. He didn't know how thoroughly she'd researched his life, but he had a feeling if he lied about anything major, she would know. It didn't really matter that much, but it did make him think through his answers. She probably wasn't going to fact-check him in this setting while they were in front of cameras and within possible earshot of others, but she'd probably tear apart his story with questions if possible. And he didn't want to deal with that.

"It's hard to say what is most adventurous," James said finally. "But I'm pretty well travelled. I can't think of a particular instance, though."

"Ah, a man of culture. What has been your favorite country to visit?" Tula asked.

"Talia is pretty beautiful around this time of year," James said.

"It is quite beautiful, isn't it? That's one of my favorite countries to visit as well. It seems we are indeed quite the match," she said.

"What was your experience in Talia like?" James asked.

"Unfortunately, it was not a vacation. I was there for work as a photographer." She paused. "If you are interested, you would make an excellent model agains the backdrops of the Talian coastline cities. I'd love to capture you."

"Unfortunately, I'm a little preoccupied at the moment with this TV show called Island Magic," James said. "Maybe you've heard of it."

"That's too bad. Perhaps after the show, then? We can continue to spend time with one another."

"We'll see," James said. "Who knows what life will look like in three months' time? The DMV could lead us all in many different directions."

"What do you think your life will look like in three months?" Tula asked.

James sighed, leaning back into his chair.

"Honestly," he said. "I hope it ends with me going back home, back to farming. It's difficult to imagine much else."

"I do hope it ends with that as well. It would be unfortunate if it were anything else," Tula said with another polite smile.

Right. She was enjoying this way too much.

"Truly," James said simply, then looked back down at the screen. "Well. Should we move on, now, then?"

Tula nodded, keeping her eyes on him. "What's something you've always wanted to try but haven't gotten around to doing?"

James wondered just how much he should lean into this stupid game of wordplay, or if he should leave Tula to play the game herself. He also had a feeling that whatever he answered, she would remember and potentially use against him eventually. And he didn't imagine that anything she was saying in reply was true either.

So he decided to play his own game instead.

"Making an unlikely friend," he said.

Tula hummed. "You strike me as someone who has no issues making friends, unlikely or not."

"Really?" James asked with a raised brow. "You might be surprised, then."

"Why do you think you haven't accomplished this before?" she asked.

"I think, in the past, I lacked the persistence and patience," he said.

"Persistence and patience is not an easy feat one gains over time. Do you think you now have these skills in the present?" Tula asked.

"I guess I'll found out when I put them into practice," James said.

Tula tilted her head, intrigued. "When," she echoed. "Not if?"

"I don't make goals that I never intend to act upon," he said.

"You're a man of your word," she mused. "That is respectable."

"To some," he agreed.

"You don't think everyone respects that?" Tula asked.

"I think there will always be outliers," James said.

"Ah, such is life. They're unfortunately unavoidable, whether fate or bad luck," she said.

James smirked slightly.

"You like bringing things full circle," he said. "Don't you?"

"I enjoy being thorough. How observant of you," Tula said, mirroring his smirk.

James was about to reply when the gong was struck, and it's wobbling clash rang throughout the whole room.

"Our time is up. It's a shame I didn't get to answer the last question," Tula said.

"You still have a moment before you go," James said.

Tula smiled, watching him carefully. "I'd like to teach my dog a few tricks."

James looked up at her, keeping his expression blank.

"Let me know how that works out," he said.

"Before we part ways, I must ask: do you have any suggestions for his first trick I teach him?" Tula asked.

James pursed his lips, slightly tilting his head to the side as he thought.

"The strongest motivator for a dog's loyalty is the care and approval of their master," he said carefully.

"I'll keep that in mind, however, I do think my dog is plenty loyal. He just needs a few lessons on obedience," Tula said, the hint of a wicked smile returning.

"I hope you're right," James said simply. "For the dog's sake."

"Alright, contestants! Your one minute mark is up! Was that a great first session or what!" Mel said through the microphone on the stage. "Please take a moment to look at the tablet to see how you fared in the tests."

The tablet then refreshed, showing a few new sentences.

IT'S A MATCH!

Tula is #1 in James's compatibility results.

James is #1 in Tula's peronal choice results.

Based on the above analysis and the conversation, we detect:
HIGH COMPATIBILITY!

James didn't know it was possible to feel so much hate for an inaminate object. But he very much wanted to destroy the screen.

After the "results" scrolled away, the screen transitioned with a flurry of sparkles, revealing the next match.

It read: James and Eve. He guessed that meant he was supposed to stay where he was.

"Contestants, please move on to the next table with your name on it! We'll give you some time to get settled," Mel said.

"Goodbye, James. Until we meet again," Tula said, standing up. "I'm sure we'll continue to see each other. We have high compatibility, after all."

"Seems so," James said with a nod. "See you."

And finally, the year-long ten minutes were over, and Tula left to find her next table. James sat where he was, trying not to slouch forward and look too fed up post-interaction, but he didn't have any time to decrompress.

He watched as Tula made a bee-line for Shane, quickly exchanging seats with Alan.

James had to force himself not to stare. Gritting his teeth together, he looked down at the table, brows pinched tightly together.

He didn't know Shane well enough to know how Shane would hold up to Tula's subtle belligerence. James briefly rubbed his temples, trying to collect himself and push his worries to the side for the moment. He didn't know how many more people he'd have to sit with, but at least Eve was welcome company.

He was starting to get a headache, though.

"Do you mind if I sit?" a voice said across from him.

James's eyes shot open, and his expression relaxed as he looked up at Eve, immediately apologetic. He realized he likely looked angry, and he didn't want her thinking it was because of her.

"Oh, no, not at all," he said gently. "Sorry. I just have a headache. I wish I'd taken aspirin or something."

"Oh... I think I have something, if you want a pill," Eve said as she sat, already rifling through the tote she carried.

James swallowed, trying to relax now that Tula was gone, but unable to entirely, knowing that Tula was going to be playing mind-games with Shane.

As Eve took a seat and began digging in her tote, James took note of the dress she was wearing. Unlike himself, she'd actually followed the dress-code instructions, and she was wearing a flattering, pale floral dress with blue roses on it. It was nice, but it didn't look like the looser clothes she usually wore.

Suddenly he felt a little embarassed, looking dramatically under-dressed in comparison. He tried to bury that emotion.

It didn't work.

"Here," she said, offering him a small blue pill. "Aspirin. Hopefully this helps."

James offered her a small smile, taking the pill and swallowing it with a small sip of water.

"Thanks," he said. "It looks like you came prepared."

Eve set her tote on the floor, sitting up straight again with her hands on her lap. She flicked her eyes down at his shirt, smiling lightly.

"It seems you did too," she said.

James felt his face burn.

"It's fine," Eve said quickly. "I think it's humorous. Brilliant, really. Maybe they'll use less footage of you because of it."

James smiled, admittedly in a timid manner as he nodded slightly.

"That-- yeah. That was the hope," he said.

Eve nodded, then bluntly said, "To be frank, this event is really stupid."

James laughed lightly, still a little deflated and embarassed.

"Agreed," he said. "I thought this was the DMV, not some match-making show."

"I'm pretty sure they're wringing every bit of absurd drama for Island Magic," Eve said tiredly. "Our compatibility rankings are quite literally based on what kitchen appliances we'd be."

"I'm pretty sure there are more important things to take into account for compatibility," James said. "For example: basic fundamental values."

"Now, now, James. I'm sure the event planners worked really hard on this. We shouldn't make fun of their esteemed work," she dead-panned.

James nodded slowly.

"Right, right," he said. "It was brilliant, actually. There's something about what we choose as kitchen appliances that is so inherently revealing. It's one of the most vulnerable questions you can answer."

Eve hummed. "What did you choose for that question, anyways?"

"A cutting board," James said with a small grimace.

"Practical. I chose the Instant Poot," Eve said.

James nodded. "A good choice."

It seemed that perhaps Eve hadn't read between the lines for his answer. At least, he hoped she hadn't. He didn't know that his answer was going to be put in a quiz when he'd answered it initially. Now this felt even more embarassing.

"So, um--" he started, only to be interrupted by a loud gong sound.

"Let round two begin!" Mel announced over her heart-shaped microphone. James winced at the loud sound.

"Right," he said. "The gong is necessary."

Eve sighed, staring back at the list of questions. "It's the same questions. I suppose the writers want us to be consistent, or they were too lazy to think of new ones. Perhaps both."

"It seems with all their budgeting they skimped on paying the writers enough to come up with anything extra," James commented.

"Seems so." A pause. "Should we play their game and jump right in?"

"Sure," he said. "Works for me."

"First question is simple. I don't believe in fate, but I do believe in statistically random chances, which is just another way of describing luck. But perhaps I'm biased since I'm a mathematician," Eve answered.

"I'd say my answer is much the same," James agreed. "Though I'm not a mathematician. I just know about probability."

"You certainly don't have to be a mathematician to know that. It seems we're in agreement there," she said.

"Looks like we're breezing through these," James said with a small grin. "Okay. The most adventurous thing I've ever done... maybe cliff diving."

It was hard to say where the line was between adventurous and stupid for him, honestly.

"Cliff diving," she repeated amusedly. "Wow. I didn't take you as a thrill seeker, but at the same time, this doesn't surprise me."

"I did a lot of stupid things as a teenager," James said. "It probably didn't help that I had a near-indestructable frame. Imagine a teenage boy with no physical consequence. It's a miracle I was not complete a disaster."

James said this as a humorous joke, but Eve didn't seem to find this funny. If anything, she looked appalled.

"That's..." she began, but trailed off, not completing her sentence.

"Too much?" he asked with a small wince. "I have a feeling that was too much."

"No, I wouldn't say... that. Not that wording. Too much," Eve said quickly, then paused again with her brows knitted together. "Too much implies there's a limit, and I don't think it's fair to place that ceiling. It just... well, I think it's fair to be concerned when it sounds like you threw yourself off a cliff to test the limits of your magic. But, I mean-- it's understandable. You were only a boy. I still can't help but feel concerned, though."

James's eyes went wide.

"Oh. Gosh. No it-- it wasn't to test myself," he said with a weak laugh. "I was just -- I mean, cliff diving is something people do. It wasn't like that, I promise."

"Oh, sorry, I-- I shouldn't have been presumptuous. You're right, I'm just being silly," Eve said quickly, back-pedaling on her words.

James's laugh turned more genuine, and he offered her a small smile.

"It's fine," he said. "It's good that you were concerned, regardless. I didn't really give much context. Don't worry about it."

He smiled a little wider.

"What about you?" he asked. "Are you very adventurous?"

"Not particularly," Eve admitted. "I suppose I'm not quite a thrill seeker. I'd say the most adventurous thing I've done was move to a new country, but that's only because of school, not choice."

"Was school not a choice for you?" James asked curiously.

"No, that was a choice. But it's not like I uprooted my whole life to live there. I should be moving back soon, actually, since I recently graduated," Eve said.

"Oh," James said, brightening. "Well, congratulations. Was it mathematics that you majored in?"

Eve nodded. "That's right. And you studied linguistics, right?"

"Yes," he said. "That's right."

Eve nodded, studying him. "You're also a farmer, though. Right?"

"Well, as of the past year or so, yes," James said. "And I grew up on a farm as well. There was just the gap of university and military service in between."

Eve nodded again, pausing like she was processing this. "It sounds like you've had a busy last couple of years."

"That's an accurate assessment," James said. "Were you up to anything else while you were in school, or was university your main focus?"

It was a simple questions, but Eve seemed to be overthinking it. "Just university. I went to a different school in my home country for my undergraduate degree, though."

"Where is home for you, by the way?" James asked.

"Oh. It's in Vietance," she answered.

James raised his brows.

"Do you speak the language?" he asked.

Eve raised a brow as well. "I do," she said. "I know it's not very common, though."

Excited to finally know someone who knew the language so he could practice, James switched to speaking Vietese.

"I'm not well practiced in speaking it," he said. "But it would be good for me to use it more often."

Eve smiled in surprise. "Impressive," she replied back in Vietese. "You have a perfect Nye accent."

James laughed lightly.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked.

Eve laughed too, breathy and airy. "If it's any consolation, I spent a long time practicing speaking common so that I had a neutral accent. Most people from Vietance have an accent speaking other languages, but the same holds true the other way around as well. It's obvious when someone isn't a local."

"I'm sure it is," James said. "The same goes for Nye as well. There's different regional dialects and several languages within my own home continent. It's a lot to learn, but you can tell where someone is from usually from how they speak."

"Just how many languages do you know?" Eve asked with an intrigued smile.

"Seven fluently," James said. "But I'm trying to learn two more at the moment."

"Just how many languages are you trying to learn?" she asked with a soft laugh.

"As many as I can fit," he said, tapping the side of his head.

"I admire that. It's a good goal to have," Eve said. "I only know two fluently, but I'm also learning Talian right now. I've mostly been learning on TrioLingo, though."

"Maybe you could practice Talian with me, and I could practice Vietese with you," James posed. "That way you get to use it in conversation instead of just through an app."

"Two things: one, of course you know Talian. And two: I'd like that," Eve said with a wider smile.

"I guess that hits question three, then," James said with a warm smile. "We answered it without even trying."

"Is that fate or just dumb luck?" she mused.

"I don't know," he said. "What do you say, math major? What's the probability of the chances?"

Eve hummed, crossing her arms. "I need more data. I first need to ask: if you were any sandwich, which would you be?"

"Grilled cheese," James answered confidently, not missing a beat.

"Of course you'd say that," Eve said with a smirk and a shake of her head. "I'm not surprised."

"What, do I just scream: 'that man is a grilled cheese sandwich?'" James asked with a laugh.

"More like: 'that man loves cheese so much, he'd be thrilled to be in the presence of an elaborate charcuterie display that spells his name,'" she teased.

James smiled, but couldn't help but feel just a little confused.

"How did you come to that conclusion anyway?" he asked. "Not that I'm in any way upset with how it turned out. Because you were right. I was thrilled to have a bunch of meat and cheese spelling my name."

Eve's smile quickly faded, but it was quickly replaced with a smaller smile and a nod. "Bo, actually. I don't know if you've met him. He's the head chef of the island. He put together the display for you."

"I didn't know you went to the head chef to get catering for that," James said. "Never thought I'd have a 'welcome back from jail' party with catering."

"Congratulations. It's definitely one of the more bizarre parties I've ever attended. But since I'm on this island, I think I need to start increasing my expectations," she said. "What's next? A 'congratulations for surviving speed dating' party?"

"You know, that's not a bad idea, actually," James said, briefly rubbing his beard in an exaggerated show of thinking.

"Oh no," Eve groaned with the hint of a playful smile. "Why did I think it was a good idea to suggest this to the person wearing a fart shirt?"

James openly laughed at that, hiding his face behind his hands. When he finished and set his hands down, he saw that Eve was watching him with a small grin. With a small smile, he looked away, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"I don't know about a party," he admitted. "But I know I for one want to... decompress, after all of this. It's just bizarre."

"I don't blame you. What does relaxing look like to you?" Eve asked.

James shrugged slightly, his smile weakening.

"I think I'm still trying to figure that out," he said honestly.

"Well," Eve said with a sigh. "This is supposed to be a vacation. You're on an island with every single opportunity possible. This could be a good time to figure out what relaxing means to you."

Right.

That would be nice if he didn't have to worry about watching his back constantly.

"True," he said. "I guess... I'll try new things. See what helps."

The gong then echoed throughout the entire room, indicating that they have reached the warning to wrap up.

"Speaking of trying new things, it seems we'll be moving on to talk to new people," Eve said, eyeing the tablet that was now loading and re-calculating statistics. She hesitated. "Did you really mean having the language exchange, though? I wouldn't mind that... if that's something you're interested in."

"I meant it," James said in Vietese. "We can start whenever you'd like."

Eve broke into a big grin, showing a gummy smile for the first time.

"What about the next year?" she asked in Talian.

James smiled widely. The words "day" and "year" were unfortunatley very similiar in Talian, and James was pretty sure Eve didn't mean next year.

"Day," he corrected gently. "Very close, though. A great start."

Eve seemed to realize her mistake as embarrassment washed over her face. She let out a weak laugh, reaching down to pick up her tote off the floor.

"You'd be the first person I'm practicing with, so apologies in advance for all the errors I make," she said.

"No apologies needed," James said. "Hopefully by the end of this, we'll both have grown in leaps and bounds.

Then the screen on the table started flashing.

IT'S A MUTUAL MATCH!

Eve is #1 in James's personal choice results. Eve is also top in James's compatibility results.

James is #1 in Eve's peronal choice results. James scores #1 in Eve's compatibility results.

Based on the above analysis and the conversation, we detect:
VERY HIGH COMPATIBILITY!

James let out a weak laugh and looked up at Eve.

"It was good talking with you, Eve," he said.

Eve let out a nervous laugh, suddenly standing up quickly and slinging her tote up on her shoulder, face reddening. "Good talking with you too, James. Bye," she said quickly, already walking away.

James wished he could've told Eve that his headache had gone away, but instead he just watched her hastily hurry off, looking for her next table. James realized his table seemed to be stuck with his name on it for the time being, with only the other person rotating out.

The next name to pop up was "Jay."

Hm.

James didn't think he'd even met the guy before. He didn't know who to look for as he waited, staring out into the room with idle expectation, not really looking forward to another case of emotional whiplash.

Meeting with Tula had been tense. Eve had been refreshing. Now he was going to meet a stranger, which he didn't really look forward to.

Finishing off the last of his glass of water, James found himself starting to feel a little...

Tipsy.

Oh god, it was hitting him all at once. How heavy was that shot? James leaned on the table, resting his head in his hand, the side of his forehead against his palm.

This was not going well. He was just glad it didn't hit him when he was talking to Eve. That would've been really embarassing.

However, just as James thought that, a man sat down in the chair across from him.

Looking up, James met the eyes of a short, black man with thin dreads that came down to his chin. The man's eyes seemed to speak of deep dissaproval despite them never having spoken a word to one another, and from the get-go, James felt judged.

But, then again, perhaps that was the man's unfortunate resting expression. James knew his own face had a tendency to look displeased when relaxed, so... he wasn't going to read into it.

"You must be Jay," James said.

"Can we cut the polite introductions and skip ahead to silence?" Jay asked curtly. "I don't want to be here, and I'm sure as hell not interested in you."

James blinked slowly.

Ah. He was brutally honest. One of those.

"...Sure," James said weakly. "We can sit in silence."

With a put-upon sigh, Jay leaned back in his seat with a small snarl, folding his arms over a large, oversized patterned poncho.

And then he proceeded to say nothing.

Normally, James wouldn't mind waiting in silence at all. But in the absence of conversation, James began to become painfully aware of his bodily functions, and before he knew it, he had to pee. Terribly badly.

James sat up straighter, scanning the room for a bathroom. Somewhere. Anywhere.

"What?" Jay asked in annoyance.

"Restroom," James said in one word.

Jay pursed his lips, and pointed to the far corner of the room.

Following his hand, James spotted the small bathroom sign.

"I'll be--" James started.

"I don't care," Jay interjected.

James got to his feet. Geez. Alright.

Without giving any other indicators goodbye, James hurried through the tables and found the bathroom rushing in.

He hurried past Hendrik, who was at the sink, and went to the furthest urinal, not wanting to engage in conversation. Fortunately, Hendrik let James pee in peace. But the moment James zipped up and inched towards the singular sink, he knew interaction was unavoidable.

James froze awkwardly, waiting for Hendrik to move from the mirror and sink so James could wash his hands.

"Barbie," Hendrik said with a hushed voice, staring at him with narrowed eyes at the mirror.

Hendrik was fixing his hair, or rather, playing with it, not like it needed fixing. Hendrik had done himself up for the speed-dating, wearing appropriate clothes that consisted of a khakis and a collared black polo with Gernmaknee's flag and military patch on the right corner.

"Is the first round over yet?" Hendrik asked.

James frowned.

"We're on the third round," he said faintly.

"Oh, thank god. You think that crazy man is still waiting for me?" Hendrik asked with relief.

"You mean Stravos?" James asked.

Honestly, he was surprised they invited him to this event, considering he was locked up most of the time.

"I don't know what the hell his name is. He's got crazy eyes." Hendrik sighed with disapproval, shaking his head as he shook the water from his hands.

"Yeah," James said. "That's Stravos."

"I'm his top match, only because I was the only one who voted for him, apparently. I thought it was hilarious that he answered 'your mom' for what kitchen appliance he'd be. Does no one else on this island have humor? Khrist," he said with a shake of his head.

"I didn't vote for it because I had a feeling it was Stravos who said it," James mumbled, looking down at his feet.

How long was he supposed to wait to wash his hands?

Hendrik narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, unmoving. "You buddies with crazy eyes?" he asked.

"No," he said. "I was just stuck with him all night when I got put in 'time out.' It was miserable."

"My god. The hell did you do to deserve that?" Hendrik said with a grimace.

James looked up slowly, brows furrowing.

"Do you not remember...?" he trailed off, making a small punching motion.

"Hold on a second," Hendrik mumbled, then briskly nodded. "Hmph. That's right. You had a party without me, didn't you? That's what the jail party was about?"

James stared at him. He was still blocking the sink. James wondered if, at this point he should stop being polite and just reach around him.

"I didn't throw the party for myself," James said. "I didn't even know it was happening until I walked downstairs."

"Surprise party, eh? Invite your pal Hendrik next time. I'll throw you a rager," Hendrik said, finally turning around and leaving the sink.

But not so James could go around. Hendrik left the sink to approach James, giving him an overly-aggresive pat on the shoulder that felt more like a slap. James involuntarily flinched under the touch.

"You alright there, Barbie? You seem jumpy," Hendrik asked, now standing too close in front of him.

"I'm not a physical touch person," James muttered, pulling away and weaving around him, escaping to the sink. "And I need to wash my hands."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You sure you're alright there?" Hendrik asked as he then stabled James by placing his hand under his shoulders, applying pressure upwards so he could stand upright.

James shook him off, leaning forward on the sink counter. He'd only swayed a little. It wasn't ground for touching him again.

Grabbing soap, James felt a little unstable, but tried not to show it. Good grief, it'd been a long time since he'd drank. His tolerance was too low, now.

Running his hands under the water, he ignored Hendrik for a moment until his hands were clean. Then he dried them with a paper towel.

"The hell. Are you drunk?" Hendrik asked, watching him the whole time.

"It's none of your damn business," James muttered, not wanting to get into the why.

"Hmph! I thought you didn't drink," Hendrik went on, still watching him closely.

James turned to leave, but felt light-headed, and grabbed the counter for support instead.

Not eating anything that morning out of anxiety had been a bad choice. A very bad choice.

Hendrik tapped something against his back.

"Here. Drink this, Barbie," he said, offering his flask. "You don't have an indestructible liver like me, so you need to drink water. I was going to turn this to gin, but I'll do that after."

James shamefully took the flask, not meeting Hendrik's eyes. This was just another embarassment in a trend of continual embarasments.

He took a sip, tasting mostly water with an aftertaste of wine. Clearly Hendrik hadn't cleaned the flask that thoroughly, but James took it down quickly. After a few good gulps, he handed it to Hendrik.

"I'd offer you food, but you need to ask me out on a date first," Hendrik said with a smirk as he took back his flask.

"Already got rejected once," James said, leaning back on the counter. "I'd like to keep what little pride I have left."

He didn't feel like correcting him anymore. He didn't feel like defending himself at all.

Right now James just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Was that too dramatic? Maybe that was the Arak talking.

"Good lad. 'Cause I'd reject your lying ass again. The hell you think you're doing? Drinking after adamantly saying you don't drink? Do you want to destroy your life, or did you just hate the idea of drinking with me that much?" Hendrik said with a scoff.

James reached up to hold his face in both hands, unable to regulate his emotions thoroughly while under the influence. It was stupid, and he hated it. Already, he was feeling all of the buried emotions crawling back up again.

"Can you just not judge me without knowing the whole story for once?" he muttered into his hands.

"Why? So you can go back to barking like a dog?" Hendrik asked, now laughing. His laugh bellowed and echoed against the walls of the bathroom.

James cringed, curling in on himself as his hands turned to fists. He clenched his jaw, biting back the knee-jerk reaction of anger to keep himself from lashing out.

"You're one strange man. A Barbie, horsegirl, and a horndog," Hendrik said with amusement.

Keeping a hand shielding his eyes, James stayed still, sitting on the counter with his elbows on his knees. Hendrik had no idea how he was piling onto the disrespect and discomfort James was already enduring from all sides. It was degrading.

James looked up at him, fed up with frustration and unease.

"Do you have any idea the constant humiliation I'm subjected to? Could you just once read the room and refrain from saying something completely devoid of any sensitivity? This island may be a vacation for you but it's been hell for me."

Hendrik's smile faded as he let out another "hmph" and crossed his arms, pursing his lips and watching him again.

"Sorry, lad. Didn't realize you had a sensitive soul," he remarked.

And even still, Hendrik managed to be condescending.

"Island has been that bad, huh? Sorry to hear," Hendrik went on.

James was not sober enough for this. Getting to his feet with a huff, James swayed on his feet and veered for the door.

But just as he did so, he heard a flush from the nearby stall.

Oh, BLEEP it all. Of course someone else was here to overhear. Just great.

There was a long, intensely awkward pause where no one moved.

James winced, wondering if he should leave now or stay hidden in the bathroom. Either way he wasn't going to save face from everyone. It was a matter of time before everyone saw him like this. And from what he heard, this event was going to be pretty long. There were two rounds, and it was only going to get worse.

Eventually, the stall in the farthest corner of the restroom opened with a hesitant creak. One of the cameramen stepped out, avidly avoiding eye contact as he made his way to the sink.

James hovered by the exit door, stuck in indecision.

"Goddamn. That was a long shit," Hendrik remarked with another bellow.

James gave Hendrik a weary look of disapproval as he leaned back on the wall, not quite sure if he felt normal enough to face people again.

"...Sure," the camerman replied weakly. He kept his head low as he scrubbed his hands.

"The hell did you eat? A bucket of fiber?" Hendrik went on.

The man leaned both hands on the sink, his face and ears burning with embarrassment. "...No?"

"Say, you got any more of those snacks? Fart man here needs to shit," Hendrik said as he gestured towards James.

"Of all of the nicknames you could've called me..." James said dryly.

"Barbie here needs to shit," Hendrik corrected.

"I need to eat," James mumbled. "The shitting comes after."

"Same difference." Hendrik turned his attention back to the other man. "So you got any food or what?"

Though put on the spot and looking quite thrown for it, the man obliged and patted down his hoodie pockets in search of something. "Uhm... ah." He pulled out a granola bar. "Any allergies...?"

James hesitated.

"Chocolate," he said.

"Is it also full of fiber?" Hendrik asked.

"Could you stop going on about fiber and shit?" James asked with a sigh.

"Hey, just looking out for you, fart man," Hendrik said defensively as he then filled his flask with water from the sink faucet.

James leaned his head back against the wall, suppressing a groan. This guy.

The man turned the granola bar over. "Um, no chocolate."

"Then I can eat it," James said.

"Sorry it's all I have on me." The man tossed it to him. James managed to catch it, though it was admittedly a bit sloppy.

"Hold on. You military?" Hendrik asked the man, squinting at the tags around his neck. "Who are you, anyways? Are you a contestant?"

James fumbled with the plastic wrapper, crinkling it open.

"Yeah. And, uh, no," the man answered.

"Yeah and no that you're a contestant?" Hendrik asked, clearly confused.

"Yes military, no contestant," James said before taking a big bite out of the nutty granola bar.

"Hm. You staff?" Hendrik asked.

The cameraman glanced at the corner of the restroom, then nodded. "Filming crew."

"Oh shit! There's a camera in here? About damn time I get in my scenes," Hendrik said as he grinned and waved at the camera. "Whoever is watching, don't you fucking dare cut me out of here."

Oh joy. This was being recorded. James took another large bite of the bar.

The cameraman blinked at Hendrik, then shifted uncomfortably in his spot. "Um, well. Good luck to you both," he said stiffly.

If this man was on the film crew, he knew that James was not having good luck, and was not going to have it any time soon.

"It's my lucky day, eh? I get to be with the most popular contestant and the film crew. We can chat as real men having lunch and a drink the bathroom," Hendrik said cheerily, then offered the flask to the man. "Drink?"

...Most popular? ... Real men? ...Lunch?

Shrinking away, the man mustered a small, unsure smile and shook his head. "Still on the clock," he mumbled as he shuffled around Hendrik for the door, "but thanks."

James found himself finishing the granola bar off already, crumpling the remaining wrapper in his hand. He tossed it into the trash can.

"What's your name, poop machine?" Hendrik asked, then went on to glug his flask.

James gave Hendrik another look of disapproval. Really?

The man's face flushed fire hydrant red again. "I-- Please don't..." He hesitated by the door, looking like he was at war with himself. Then finally answered, barely audible, "Caspar."

"Caspar, I apologize for Hendrik's disrespectful manner," James said, opening the door for the man.

"No need, we're all sorry here," Hendrik said as he then once again aggressively slapped both their backs, pushing them out the door with him. "Now let's go on our days, shall we, veterans? We have a speed dating event to entertain."

It took all of James's self control not to spin around and slap Hendrik. This was ridiculous. This was degrading. This man's condescencion was infuriating. Did he view no one with any level of human appreciation? Was everyone just a joke to him?

James ripped himself away from Hendrik's hands, refusing to look back at him as he marched back to his table.

He had to remember he was on camera. He had to remember to behave, even if everything was grating against his nerves. Why did nobody have any common decency? He was surrounded by too many self-absorbed lunatics who didn't think about how their actions affected others in the slightest.

Sitting down at the table, his emotions reaching a boiling point, he folded his arms and stared down at the screen between him and Jay.

Jay said nothing. And James was glad for it. They did not need to speak, they did not need to approve of each other, and James certainly didn't need anyone else to piss him off.

Finally, the gong was struck, and they were freed from their "date." Without exchanging a word, neither of them bothered to look at their screen's statistics as Jay got to his feet and left and the screen changed the names once more.

James and Alan.

There was no reason to groan internally, but James had a feeling he would dread whoever was next no matter who they were. There was no positive spin to this. He was drunk, and he hated it, and now he had to talk to people about semi-deep topics.

Looking up to the ceiling, he asked whatever being was watching from up above: why me?

Alas, no answer as Alan appeared in front of him.

"Hi, James. Good to see you again," Alan said with a friendly smile, pulling up the chair to sit.

Now James had to be polite. He had to be normal. He had to put on a friendly face because Alan did not deserve to be the recipient of James's built-up angst. It was time to bury it all again. Unfortunately.

James managed a small smile and a nod.

"Hey, Alan," he said. "Good to see you too."

It was close enough to the truth. James was ambivalent, at the moment - more relieved that Alan wasn't someone else less desirable.

"How has the event been so far for you?" Alan asked as he glanced down at his shirt, his smile widening.

Why did he have to ask that.

"About as normal as expected for a forced speed-dating event," James said, deciding not to say 'terribly.'

"They may as well call it speed-hostage. I don't think anyone's thrilled to be here," Alan said with a soft chuckle. "But, I will say-- it's been interesting to hear people's answers, so they have that going for them."

"Good questions," James said. "Awkward event. Give and take."

Alan hummed. "What do you propose they do to make it less awkward?"

James blinked slowly.

"Not... have it," he said.

"That's... yeah, that's fair," Alan said with a weak laugh. There was a longer pause as he seemed to be studying him. "We don't have to answer the questions, though, if you don't want to. It's up to you."

"I don't think I have any new or interesting answers," James said, leaning a bit on the table with his arms folded.

Good grief, he felt... weird. The aspirin and the granola bar and the wine water were not combining well with the shot.

"That's fine. I don't need novelty to stay engaged." Alan paused again. "Do you want to talk about something else, then?"

"Would it be too..." James started, unsure of if he really cared about his self image anymore, or if he should even try.

He wanted to lay his head down. His head was spinning.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Um."

"Do you want me to get you anything? Food, water?" Alan asked more gently.

James rubbed his face with his hands.

"I had some," he muttered. "It's fine. Sorry. We can talk about... I don't know. Anything."

His brain was not working anymore. This had to be the stress. No way one shot would do this to him. He was losing it.

Alan hummed. "I'm hoping they provide lunch after this. I didn't have a big breakfast. Did you get breakfast before coming here?"

"No," he said, setting his hands back on the table with a sigh.

"I'm sorry. This is really embarrassing. I think I'm going to get food. My stomach is rumbling too loud. I could get you something if you'd like. It wouldn't be a hassle," Alan said apologetically.

Alan was only doing this to be polite, James gathered. Alan may or may not have been hungry himself, but Alan was definitely using that as an excuse to offer James food, again, after his first denial. Obviously, Alan was concerned - and thought Alan was trying to say it was embarassing for him, they both knew it was really embarassing for James.

He was trying to be kind about it, at least. But James saw through it.

"...Sure," he said faintly, not wanting to argue or call it out for what it was. "Sure."

"Alright. I'll try to make it back so we can at least get more than a minute of conversation," Alan said, standing back up. "I'll be right back."

James only nodded, and Alan got up, disappearing to hunt for food. Having no pride left to lose, James crossed his arms against the table and set his forehead on his forearms, resting it for the time being.

He didn't pay attention the passage of time, and frankly drifted off for a moment before he heard the chair faintly screech across from him again.

He looked up, and Alan had returned with a paper plate and a blueberry bagel with cream cheese.

"So how do you feel about bagels?" he asked as he sat back down. "Please say only positive things, because it was the only food I managed to find."

James forced a small smile.

"That's perfect," he said meekly. "Thanks."

Alan slid the plate over. "That's a relief. Apparently there's going to be a buffet later, so I suppose I'll hold off til then."

James took the bagel, looking it over briefly before he took a bite. He hated that Alan felt like he had to baby him, but he was grateful nonetheless.

"A buffet?" James asked through his chewing.

"Yeah. That's what Dante told me. It should be coming up soon, I think. Sorry I don't know much more than that," Alan said, leaning back on his chair and getting comfortable.

"Is that after the first round or the second?" James asked.

Really, he just needed to know if he'd have to face Tula again before eating or not. He didn't know if he would have to. But he had a strong feeling he would. He just... knew it.

"I'm not so sure. My guess is after the first set of rounds, but I wasn't even aware there were more rounds. Dante mentioned that it should be wrapping pretty soon, though," Alan said.

Please let that be true.

"Mm," James hummed, unable to really speak through another mouthful. It appeared that over half their time had been spent in search of food, anyway.

When Alan didn't try to keep the conversation going, James saw that as permission to keep eating without interruption, so he just focused on his bagel. His one offering of reprieve from this hellhole of an island.

Perhaps he put too much emotional weight on a circular piece of bread, but he was going to let it comfort him at the moment until it was gone. In somewhat unfortunate timing, James found himself finishing just when the gong sounded.

Blinking, James looked up at Alan, still embarassed, and apologetic.

"...Thanks for uh," he tried to say, not sure how to finish the sentence he started.

"Don't mention it," Alan said with a smile.

Right. Don't mention it. Good. Then they would never mention this again. He would just think about this emabarassing moment forever in his head, letting it keep him up at night along with everything else instead.

"Yeah," he said. "Well. Thanks for sitting with me too. I hope you find better luck at your next table."

Alan nodded. "Yeah, you too."

He was about to stand up, but then hesitated when the tablet beeped, announcing their compatibility scores.

Alan scores in James's personal choice rankings.

James did not score in Alan's rankings.

Based on the above analysis and the conversation, we detect:
LOW COMPATIBILITY!

Alan clearly held back a laugh when reading this. "Damn. I was about to confess my love for you and everything. I guess I should hold back."

James half-covered his face to hide his slight wince. He knew Alan was just joking, but James couldn't help but feel embarassed by the whole ordeal.

"Probably for the best," he said faintly.

"Right," Alan said with a chuckle, standing up. "Well then, I hope you find true love soon."

"I'd rather find a few other things first but thanks," James found himself saying before he could filter.

"Well, if you ever need help finding bagels, you know who to reach out to." Alan waved by lifting his hand. "I'll see ya later."

"See you."

And with that, the man finally left him to be with his now-empty plate, less-empty stomach, and the humiliation of this entire day thus far.

"Do...we have to choose between the provided options?" Hild asked slowly. She squinted at the first question on the screen, as if that would unscramble the words and form a different, more sensical question.

A little over seven hours ago, she awoke to find the "invitation" to this week's event on the nightstand by her bed, and her nerves had been steadily fraying since. Despite all her efforts (such as an early morning run, walking Buster, cooking, cleaning, etc) to keep her mind off of it until then.

"I suppose not. What are they going to do? Tell us we're doing this wrong?" Eve said flatly, staring down at the cup of rose oolong tea in front of her.

Well, maybe they were. How was Hild to know how any of this "dating" stuff worked?

She hummed, less in thought and more in discomfort. "True," she agreed, "there's...probably room for some deviation."

"What do you have in mind?" Eve asked, hands now around her teacup.

Hild stiffly folded her own hands on the table, eyes fixed on the espresso cup in front of her. "I don't think these are all terrible ice breakers," she answered, "so we ought to stick with some of them."

She glanced at one of several cameras that were set up in the far corners of the room.

"Alright..." Eve paused, reading through the questions again. "Which one do you want to start with?"

"...Perhaps the second one," Hild eventually decided. "I suppose I can...go first."

She hated that her voice was suddenly so hard to find.

None of this meant anything. They were a group of strangers thrown haphazardly onto an island together, being forced to jump hoops and interact with each other like lab rats being tossed into a maze. There was no way anyone truly expected her to believe that she and Eve were a suitable match purely based on some trivial personality quiz that she barely remembered participating in.

And yet, the garish Valemteens-esque theme of the room, the pressure of millions of eyes on them, and the litany of social expectations that surrounded the "speed dating" scene, no matter how staged this all was, all in addition to having to, to some degree, legitimately put herself out there in order to find a-- what? Partner? To what end?-- It all stressed her out to the point of articulation failure.

"I...was accepted into a school overseas," Hild finally began. "Living in a different country, away from my family, has likely been the most adventurous thing I've done to date."

Eve slowly nodded, picking up her cup of tea and setting it close to her face, breathing in the steamy aromas.

"That is adventurous,[/i]" she said softly. "I say that not just to affirm you, but to validate you as well." Eve took a quiet deep breath, meeting her gaze. "It's also the most adventurous thing I've done as well. Go into a school oversees, in a different country away from family and anyone I know. It's a strange coincidence that this happened to both of us."

How was Eve so calm about all of this?

Hild nodded, then seized the opportunity for a more natural flow of conversation. "You said you studied math. Which university was this?"

"I received my Master's degree at Ivy Point University in Candidia," Eve answered. "What about you?"

Hild felt her brows raise a bit. Graduating Ivy Point was a true accomplishment. "I've been studying at Princesston, in the States."

Eve nodded again, processing this. Perhaps also thinking that this was a true accomplishment.

"How do you like it? Living in the States, I mean," she said.

"There was a slight culture shock at first," Hild answered. "But I quite appreciate city-living. Everything's so compact there, so most of what I need is within walking distance."

Releasing her unknowing death-grip on the tablecloth, Hild finally picked up the espresso. "Do you still live in Candidia, or did you move back home?"

Eve took a slow sip of her tea. "I haven't moved back home yet," she answered when finished, setting the cup back down. "I need to soon, though. My student veesa is expiring, so I have to move back before the end of the summer."

"Would you be moving back in with family?" Hild asked, genuinely curious since she hadn't spoken much with Eve all this first week. She never seemed to be able to catch her at the right times.

Eve hesitated again. "I'm not sure yet. I'm still figuring it out." She looked back up at Hild. "Do you think you'll move back when you graduate?"

"Fair enough," Hild said with a slight nod. "I think I'm expected to, honestly." After a pause, she added, quieter, "I haven't really even told my father about my...slight change in career tracks."

Eve raised a brow. "Career tracks... Did you change your major?"

It was Hild's turn to hesitate now as she formulated a concise explanation. "I... Yes. I wasn't originally working toward veterinarian."

"What did you previously study, if you don't mind me asking?" Eve asked.

Hild idly tapped the edge of her cup. "I was aiming for pediatrician, to join my father's practice."

She flicked her eyes to a camera trained on them. The world, which included family in Fjelstad, was watching.

Clearing her throat, Hild turned back to the provided questionnaire. "Luck and, or fate, then?"

Eve sighed. "This one is easy. Luck, easily. Fate is nonsense made up by people who don't understand statistics. Luck is simply random chance. The world is put together by random chance. Our lives are no different."

"I strongly agree," Hild said. Next and last question: "Something you've always wanted to try, but have yet to find the opportunity?"

Eve quietly hummed, fiddling with the hook of her cup again. "I'm not sure... I have to think about this one. Do you know your answer?"

Hild hummed as she mulled it over. Then settled for something quick yet completely honest:

"I've yet to acquaint myself with an alpaca," she said evenly.

Eve stared at her blankly for a second, then pressed her lips together like she was holding in a surprised laugh. "An... alpaca," she repeated slowly.

Quirking a brow, Hild grinned in invitation for Eve to simply laugh. "I wish I knew or understood why. I just have this inexplicable fascination with the creatures."

"They are pretty cute. And really fluffy. They're quite docile, too," Eve mused.

"They're similar to llamas in function and appearance, but overall superior in every conceivable way," Hild stated. Then shrugged. "If a bit smaller."

"I can see why you'd be fascinated by them. They are quite adorable." Eve paused. "Do they come up in your studies?"

Hild allowed herself to smile more fully. "They've come up a few times, yes. But I've mostly met with the usual list of house pets, and the stereotypical farm animals."

She tilted her head as she wondered aloud, "Do you ever draw animals, Eve?"

"Oh..." Eve said more quietly, focusing back on her tea. "Sometimes. I'm not very good at it, though."

Hm. Perhaps that wasn't the best topic to broach right now, then. Hild relented.

Conveniently, their event host announced the first round now complete.

"Sorry I didn't get to answer the last question. Maybe I'll think about it and get back to you," Eve said after another hesitation.

"No worries." Hild offered a polite smile and inclined her head. "I think that one would normally require more than five minutes to contemplate, anyhow."

The tablet then went on to show the results of the round.

Eve is #1 in Hild's personal choice results.

Hild scores in Eve's personal and compatibility ranking.

Based on the above analysis and the conversation, we detect:
MEDIUM COMPATIBILITY!

Eve stared at the tablet, brows furrowed. "I'm not even sure what to make of that. This is bad science."

It did feel...really odd. Not good, nor bad. Just odd.

Hild likewise stared intently at the big, pink "MEDIUM" on the screen. "Can we even consider this a science?" she uttered under her breath.

"Pseudo-science, maybe," Eve said with a sigh. "Personally, this means nothing to me, and I'm just doing what they ask."

Hild snorted softly at that. "Well, absurdity of this entire situation notwithstanding," she said, "I rather enjoyed talking with you a bit."

"Yeah... yeah, it was nice," Eve said with a nod, the tablets on the screen refreshing with new names. She paused, looking like she was contemplating saying something before saying it out loud with a sincere gaze. "I know we live together, so... I'll try to be more present."

Hild felt herself actually smile. "I won't pressure you into it. But... I think that'd be quite nice, yes."

Eve nodded, standing up and slinging her tote around her shoulder. "It looks like you're staying here, so I'll be on my way. Good luck with round two."

Eve was probably right. Hild's name remained, while Eve's was wiped from the slate and eventually replaced by "Alexander". The man in question looked like he was already on his feet, scanning the tables for his name.

"You as well," Hild bid her in earnest before Eve left, on her way to the next table.

This Alexander, Hild had seen a few times before, purely in passing. Thus, she never got a good read on him. And the pseudo-science of the compatibility assessment did nothing to assure her of anything.

He seemed...put-together. Enough. His hair was neatly slicked back, and his shoes were absurdly clean. His button down and shorts were both patterned with toucans and bright hibisci, which she didn't completely care for.

He sauntered over, half-empty glass still in hand.

Alexander slid into the chair across from her, daintily setting the drink down.

"Well hello there, Hild," he said with a smile. "It's a weird way to meet for the first time. But 'tis a pleasure."

He extended a hand for a shake across the table.

"Likewise." With a polite smile of her own, she took his hand in a light shake. Then she folded her hands together on the table.

The questions remained on the screen as well. She suppressed a sigh.

"I don't suppose you believe in fate, do you?" she asked.

"It's a rather romantic idea to believe that some people are fated to certain inevitabilities," Alexander said with a swirl of his drink. "But it's hardly realistic. And for those supposedly fated to tragedy, it does seem a bit of a hopeless worldview, doesn't it? I prefer to believe in chance."

...Alright. Good answer.

"That's looking to be the opinion of the majority today," Hild said with a hum of agreement.

"What about you?" Alexander asked. "Does your opinion differ?"

"Fate is a product of romanticism," she said, paraphrasing his own words. "Luck or chance or what have you is simply what's beyond our control."

"Well said," Alexander said with a small nod of approval. "Sounds like you've got a good head on your shoulders. Or so my mother would say."

Tilting her head, Hild maintained a pleasant, if-unsure smile. "Would you consider yourself an adventurous spirit, Mister Alexander?"

"Sometimes," Alexander said, pursing his lips in thought. "I tend to be more cautious by default, but if I'm surrounded by a bunch of cautious people, I find myself taking more risks."

"So, you're adaptable," Hild concluded with a faint grin.

"I suppose so," Alexander said. "You?"

"Less so," she answered honestly.

Having a list, short and simple as it was, was actually quite helpful. Hild found herself rediscovering her confidence again.

(It also helped that her afternoon was kicked off with thoughtful Miss Eve, whom she considered good company.)

Hild gestured to question two. "So... most adventurous thing you've done thus far?"

Alexander paused in thought for a moment, taking a sip of his drink.

"Maybe the time I hunted a pod of giant tarantulas," he said. "Those things were freaky."

Curious, Hild quirked a brow. "Do you hunt by profession?"

"Correct," Alexander said with a smile. "Usually I do population control but sometimes I get asked to target invasive species."

"Fascinating," Hild said sincerely. "You said 'giant' tarantulas?"

James had mentioned wildly mutated animals in his home country.

"Are you from Nye?" she asked.

"How keen!" Alexander said. "Yes. I am! How'd you guess?"

Hild grinned, a bit wryly, as she answered, "Luck."

Alexander laughed lightly at that.

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if it was because you've heard about Nye's infamously hostile wildlife, but we can give luck the credit there today," he said. "I'm from Lettera, by the way. That's the northern portion of Nye."

She recalled it from a map of the country, in that book of Nye politics James lent her. Though it wasn't geographical and thus left out all visual cues pertaining to its ecosystem, she could picture the general scope of the province.

"I'm from Fjelstad," she offered in turn, "which is all northern."

"Ah, yes," Alex said. "Our northern neighbors. I hear it's very chilly up there year-round."

"Quite," she confirmed. "Allow me to backtrack and say: I find it interesting that you're in the business of wildlife population control, especially since I'm studying to...individually preserve wildlife."

"Oh?" Alexander raised his brows with interest. "What's that mean? To individually preserve wildlife?"

"In that I would be working on a small scale, on the field," she answered. Leaning on the table, she propped her chin in her hand. "As opposed to broad, far-reaching bureaucracy and policy-making. I'd like to work directly with animals."

Alexander studied her for a moment, and there was a hint of amusement in his resting smile.

"Wait. You're a veterinarian?" he asked with a laugh.

"That's the goal," Hild answered.

"Well, that's a good job to work with animals if you like pets, I suppose," Alexander said. "I like pets myself, but I guess I've always seen them a little differently than the game I hunt."

"Well, that's more than fair," she offered. "Pets are companions. Game or invasive species are not."

"Yeah," Alexander agreed. "There are some crazy people who try to tame the monsters on Nye, but they all end up dying doing so. I don't think those creatures are meant to be companions."

She nodded. "Some creatures are meant to stay undomesticated."

Alexander hummed, looking down at the display screen again.

"On that note," he said. "I'm very curious to hear what adventurous things you've done."

"So far, not much," she said plainly. "I am attending a school overseas, which was a...slightly drastic change, but it hasn't been a bad one."

"Moving overseas is very adventurous, I'd say," Alexander empathized. "It's a new place, new culture, language, and experience. That's a lot of change."

"I suppose," she conceded.

"Where did you move to for school?" Alexander asked.

"The Annexed States," Hild answered, "though not permanently. I'll be moving back to Fjelstad once I've graduated."

If she graduated.

"That sounds like a good plan. Have you enjoyed your schooling in the states?"

"Quite a bit, yes." She leaned back now, folding her hands over her lap. "How does one usually become an animal hunter in Lettera?"

"Well, it was pretty simple for me. My dad was in the hunting business, so I followed in his footsteps, continuing the trade," Alexander said.

"Respectable," she managed, and fully meant it, despite the guilt it dredged up for her.

"It was more convenient than anything," Alexander said with a shrug. "I happened to enjoy it too. But it doesn't always work out that way."

It certainly did not.

"Is there anything you wish you'd done instead?" she asked, briefly pleased with what felt like a nice transition into the last question. "Or simply want to try sometime in the near future, for the sake of trying?"

Alexander grinned, humming in thought.

"I've always fantasized about going to school for fashion design, actually," he said. "I don't know. I just feel like I would thrive in that environment."

She tilted her head with an amused smile. "Interesting you say that," she said. "I once considered fashion design myself."

Alexander brightened at that.

"Really? That's a funny coincidence considering we both ended up on very non-fashion related paths," he said.

"And, both of which," she added, "are decidedly animal-oriented."

"Huh," Alexander hummed. "Well lookit that."

The gong rang, conveniently declaring the end of their discussion just as it felt like it was really picking up.

"Awh," Alexander said with a small sigh and a smile. "I wasn't even aware of the time. That went by fast."

She offered an apologetic smile as well, and shrugged. "It was nice meeting with you, Alexander."

"You as well, Hild," Alex said, getting to his feet. "We should chat more. It seems like we have a lot in common!"

"I'm not opposed to the idea," she agreed amicably.

"Fabulous, I suppose it's mutual then."

Alexander places in Hild's compatibility rankings.

Hild is #1 in Alexander's personal choice rankings.

Based on the above analysis and conversation, we predict:
MEDIUM COMPATIBILITY!

Hm. She would've guessed the combability ranking to be a bit higher than that. She dismissed it as simply one in a long string of pre-existing errors, anyhow, and decided she might actually seek out Alexander later.

The monster hunter bid her a friendly farewell, and took his glass with him.

Taking a small notepad and pen from an inside pocket of her blazer, Hild decided she might as well use these few moments she had to herself for some note taking. She jotted down the compatibility statistics given to her thus far.

Another quiet passed as she waited. She added a quick summary of the context of her current, bizarre situation. Then scanned the room for her brother.

Lyall sat across from Miss Clanny. Both were laughing, predictably having a most wonderful time.

Hild caught mention of jazz somewhere in their discussion when her next "partner" finally swept in.

Alan.

"Hi, Hild. You look nice today," he said with a smile, sitting down on the chair across from her. "It's nice to see you again."

Setting her notepad down, Hild smiled back warmly. "Alan. It is indeed a pleasure."

"How's the event so far? Are you getting all the matches based on kitchen appliance science?" he asked with a playful smile.

Her smile turned flat. "I suppose so," she answered with a slight sigh. "Though only medium matches so far. It's safe to assume, then, that kitchen appliance-based questionnaires can only take you so far." She gestured with her pen toward him. "Yourself?"

Alan hummed, mulling over her words as his eyes drifted down to her pen and the notes in front of her. "Who did you talk to so far?" he asked instead.

Hm. Rather avoidant for a self-declared man of true aim.

"Eve," she answered, "and a mister Alexander from Nye. With whom I had a surprising amount in common."

"Ah. Really? And the magical matchmaker said you only have medium compatibility?" Alan said in amusement.

"The Fates are strange and confuzzling in that way, it seems," Hild hummed.

"Confuzzling," Alan echoed, his playful smile turning into a grin. "I admire your vernacular. I daresay it is quite... opulent."

She arched a brow, unable to suppress an amused grin. "And you're simply trying too hard," she said with a teasing tone.

Alan gasped. "Preposterous. Never in my conscious mind would I conceptualize a moment in which I exert an exorbitant amount of effort to steal your attention," he said playfully, still grinning.

With an unimpressed scoff, she turned to a new page in her notebook and scrawled his name at the top.

Alan pursed his lips in amusement, watching her write his name. "I didn't know we should be taking notes."

"It's purely optional," she hummed.

"What type of notes have you been writing, if you don't mind me asking?" he asked.

Hild idly tapped her pen to the table. "Mostly observations," she answered, "to pass the time. And look busy."

In all honesty, it was nothing more than a bullet journal to process everything.

Alan hummed. "Do you have an extra page and pen I could borrow?"

Tilting her head, she considered him closely, as if trying to assess his worthiness of such a prize.

"Very well," she eventually decided, and slipped from her jacket pocket a spare notepad and pencil. "Unfortunately, I'm out of ink beyond this pen."

"That's quite alright," Alan said as he graciously slid the notepad and pencil his way.

He opened up the notepad, turning to a blank page. He only leafed through it to find a blank page, but he didn't otherwise comment on any notes, if he saw them at all.

Alan flicked his eyes up at Hild, then angled the notepad so that it was against the corner edge of the table, away from Hild's view. He wrote something at the top of the page, then nodded, turning his attention back on her.

"Alright. Now I'm ready," he said with another smile. "Where were we?"

"You were strutting and flashing your fanciest feathers like a peacock," Hild said plainly.

Alan hummed, narrowing his eyes at her, his playful smile returning. He then nodded, using this moment to write something down, apparently.

Hild rested her chin in her hand as she watched him with almost an exasperated amusement.

"Male peacocks do have fancy and exquisite feathers. Although, they do this to impress their mate, right?" he asked, underlining something in his notes before turning his attention back towards her.

She blinked at him. Then looked askance when she felt her face heat up with the implications. "...A potential mate," she corrected.

"Right. Forgive me. I actually don't know much about animals," Alan said with a small laugh, quick to change subjects. "The other day, Shane told me I pet cats weird. That was an embarrassing revelation."

Appreciative of the subject change, she snorted softly. "How so?"

"I petted his cat from head to tail." Alan paused. "Do you think that's weird?"

"...Every time?" she asked.

Alan hesitated. "...I mean. Not every time," he said defensively.

"Then I wouldn't say it's weird," Hild said, shrugging. "Are you not comfortable with animals, mister Alan?"

Alan squirmed in his seat. He almost even looked... uncomfortable.

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm uncomfortable," he said more slowly. "I confess that I haven't spent a lot of time with animals, though." He sighed. "I know, I know. You're welcome to shame me, considering you are studying to be a vet."

She...felt this an odd thing to act so squirrely about, but she really wasn't judging.

"No shame there," she reassured him. "Lack of exposure to a thing can do that."

"Definitely," Alan agreed, then paused before moving on. "Anyways, do you want to give the questions a try?"

"Down to brass tacks, then," she said, suppressing another small sigh.

"Alright," he said with a nod, then glanced at the tablet. "Do you believe in fate or luck?"

"I believe both are very real things to some people," she answered. "As a way of coping, or simply trying to make sense of the world. Though I myself don't subscribe to the concept of fate."

Alan hummed, sitting up straight again before relaxing in his seat. "I know we've only known each other for a week, but you're quite observant, so please indulge my curiosities: what do you think I believe in?"

Pursing her lips, she hummed as she obliged and carefully considered him. Harmony seeking artist that he said he was.

"I'd say," she started slowly, "you tend to have a rather rose-tinted view of the world. A romantic, one could say, who believes in some...divinely woven fabric that is the universe. Where fate and destiny have the final say, rather than circumstance and the unfeeling laws of nature."

Alan was attentively watching Hild speak, and when he finished, he tore his gaze away from her so he could jot something else in the notepad. He looked up with a smile when finished.

"You think I'm a romantic," he mused. "You know, I get that quite a lot, actually. But I'm not ashamed by it. I let it fuel me instead."

It was Hild's turn to jot something down.

"You're confident in that part of yourself," she stated, then turned a faint grin back up to Alan. "I respect that."

"I would consider believing in fate to be romantic, but I wouldn't say you need to be a romantic to believe in fate," Alan said. "You don't believe in fate, but do you also wear rose-tinted glasses?"

She gave him a flat look in response.

"Got it. Just need to write this down," Alan said with a smile, slowly and obnoxiously writing something in the notepad while also spelling it out loud, drawing out, "Y-E-S."

He was ridiculous.

"No," she said.

"No what?" Alan said innocently.

Hild just pursed her lips. "Would you say backpacking across Argentia for a month was your most daring escapade yet?"

Alan's smile turned to an amused grin. "I'd remark that you have a good memory, but I'd be stating the obvious."

Suppressing a grin, she folded her arms on the table. "Then don't."

"For you? I won't," Alan teased. "I've actually been saying that answer to others since it's the most recent adventure that comes to mind, but now I feel as though I should think of something else. You know, for your own amusement."

She quirked a brow. "I shan't decline an exclusive look into the exciting life of Alan Alvaro."

Alan hummed. "Since you're good at guessing, why don't we up the stakes? We play two truths and a lie. If you incorrectly guess the lie of my most adventurous story, then I pick where we go during our next practice session. Deal?"

She playfully narrowed her gaze at him. "And if I guess correctly, then I'd have the privilege of picking the destination?" she furthered.

"Correct. What do you say?" Alan asked.

Hild allowed herself a grin. "Deal."

Alan mirrored her grin, studying her for a moment before nodding and saying his three statements.

"Alright. Guess the lie." He paused. "I have ridden a llama. I have graffitied a poem on a fence. I have played a violin solo on top of a mountain."

Leaning forward, she looked him up and down as she lined up every piece of data she had on him thus far.

Though it was already established that he wasn't great around animals, having hiked the length of Argentia made it an inevitability. And the second option sounded too...devious. He didn't strike her as a delinquent.

Then again, he had mentioned a twin brother who tended to bring out the more brash side of him.

So it really was just a blind guess between the two options.

She finally settled for, "The llama is the lie."

Alan clicked his tongue, his grin turning teasing as he slapped his hand against his heart. "I'm hurt. You think I'm not a llama man?"

Well, there was no need to draw this out.

She leveled him with an impatient stare. "Are you?"

"And here I was nervously thinking that you'd correctly assume that I saw a fair number of llamas roaming the countryside while I was on the trail," Alan dragged on, clearly picking up on her impatience.

After an unamused silence, she clicked her pen and calmly added another bullet point. Alan stared at her for a second, but then copied her actions, writing something on his notepad too, even though they hadn't been speaking about herself. He angled the notepad again so it would be obstructed from her view.

She cracked a knowing grin. There was no way he was writing anything legitimate. Which made her wonder, what was he even writing, in order to keep up his ridiculous ruse?

"So, what," she pressed, "you're secretly a brooding vandal?"

"Hey, it was a political message, and there was some kind of national protest. I honestly can't remember. I was fifteen, and there was always something going on, and I wanted to join in on the chaos at the time," Alan said with a chuckle.

She nodded in understanding. "Ah, a bandwagon jumper."

"Do you think it's cliche?" Alan asked.

Hild hummed. "You're a walking cliche, thus far."

Alan blinked, staring at her. Then he let out a sharp "hah" and grinned, shaking his head.

"Wow," he drew out with a another amused laugh. "No wonder you didn't pick the cliche answer as the lie. But that's alright, you fell right into my trap, and now I get to drag you to my cliche escapades on Monday."

This was too much. She couldn't not bark a laugh at that.

"'You fell right into my trap'?" she echoed incredulously. "You're only proving my point."

Alan slightly squinted at her. "Oh, was that too cheesy? My bad. Next time I'll wear a cape and rub my hands like an evil cartoon character."

"Do not," she said sternly.

"I think I'd need to do an evil villain monologue first, though," Alan mused, rubbing his chin to exaggerate his deep contemplation.

"Refrain from doing so," she desperately urged.

Alan then snapped his fingers as if a brilliant idea just came to him. He grinned.

"My given trail name was Mister Romantic, actually. But I think that'd make an excellent cartoon villain name. I could be an evil cupid, only targeting people who don't believe believe in romance. What do you think?"

Hild idly tapped her pen on the edge of the table, just to keep from groaning out loud. "Sounds more like a spiteful cupid than anything."

Alan hummed. "Could be. Why not both?"

At this, she did sigh, long and exasperated. "Shall your signature steed be a llama, then?"

"Maybe. I don't think llamas are very romantic," Alan said.

"Perhaps not," she agreed, "but they are likewise spiteful creatures."

Alan smiled, observing her again. "Have you had a bad experience with a llama?"

She tilted her head with a confused smile. "No. Have you, Mister Romantic?"

Alan narrowed his eyes at her again, hesitating with a lingering smile. Still, the brief silence was telling.

"What do you think?" he asked instead, clearly avoiding the question.

"Yes," she answered without hesitation, "clearly."

Alan sighed. Tiredly and in defeat.

"So that's my most adventurous story. What's yours?" he asked instead.

Moving to the States was already an exhausted answer. Tapping her pen again, she hummed in thought as she picked through the chapters of her life, like books on a shelf. She decided to venture into the wing of lighter anecdotes, which she admittedly had few of. But there was one she kept tucked safely in an easy-to-access place in her mind.

"I saw a sea serpent once," she finally answered. "On a leisurely fishing trip with my father, way up north. Between him, my brothers, and myself, we had essentially no boating experience. When we inevitably got lost, he dropped anchor to keep from drifting too far, and sent out a distress signal to nearby vessels.

"They were prompt in answering back, and stayed in touch, so there was not cause for great distress. It was simply a matter of waiting until they found us.

"The day was just ending, and it grew dark while we waited. My family ducked below deck, since the temperatures had dropped. I lingered above; I'd never seen so many stars before."

She paused, and refocused her gaze on Mister Alan. He seemed at first taken by surprise-- fair, considering the drastic tone shift. But he adjusted to the shift in subject, leaning forward slightly and eyes fixed on her as he listened intently and patiently.

"Then the darkened horizon to my left shifted." She inexplicably stumbled a little over her words, but quickly found her footing as she lost herself to the memory once more. "A swelling mass, but it wasn't a wave. Quietly churning the waters, it circled around the boat. When I looked over the side, I saw scales and a spiny dorsal fin shining in the moonlight as the mysterious creature swam. It lifted its head, revealing the face of a long-fabled serpent. With bated breath, I held its shining gaze as the seconds stretched into an incredible infinity.

"Then my father emerged, beckoning me inside from the cold. With hardly a sound, the serpent dipped back below the surface of the sea."

Staring down at her folded hands in her lap, she felt herself smiling faintly at the memory. "Maybe I was delirious from the cold," she conceded, looking at Alan once more, "and Lyall believes it to be a botched venture, but I recall the trip fondly."

Alan didn't answer right away, watching Hild in silence. Perhaps allowing her to continue if she desired, or perhaps allowing himself time to process and think.

"What happened after?" he asked more quietly. "Did you make it back to land okay?"

She nodded. "A trawler finally reached us. We made it home safely."

"How long did you wait?" Alan asked.

"Several hours."

Alan breathed out a sigh of relief. "You had me worried there in thinking that you were lost at sea for... I don't know. Days."

Ah. Her ending needed a little bit of work, then, since that wasn't properly resolved. She gave him an apologetic look.

"That is quite a story, though. A marveling but also terrifying story at that. You managed to mix wonder and uncertain dread into one, and it's fitting." Alan paused again. "You make a great story teller, by the way. You ought to tell more stories. I'd love to listen to more."

Hild ducked her head, and self-consciously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The obnoxious gong sounded before she could even thank him for his kind words.

"I know we should be wrapping up, but if you could indulge me: in one sentence, what's something you've always wanted to try but haven't gotten around to doing?" Alan asked after a quick glance back at the stage where the gong sat.

She wracked her brain for something. Her mind autofilled with a a small bit of her recent conversation with Eve, and she blurted out, "Ahhh, I've never seen an alpaca in person before."

She felt her face heat up from the absurdity of it, but forged ahead and hastily asked, "You?"

Alan noted this, seemingly taking real notes in the notepad now as he nodded. He looked back up with a smile, closing the notepad and sliding it the pad and pencil back towards her.

"I can tell you on Monday at our secret location. Mind if I come by around noon?" he asked.

She couldn't help her deep frown. That hardly seemed fair.

"Fine," she agreed anyway.

The tablet next to them then dinged, refreshing with the statistics.

Alan ranked on Hild's personal choice results.

Hild did not rank for Alan.

Based on the above analysis and the conversation, we predict:
MEDIUM RESULTS!

"Hm," Alan hummed curiously, staring at the results. "Looks like you're three-for-three."

Hild stared blankly at the results, feeling strangely disappointed, and frankly rather exposed.

"This whole thing is ridiculous," she eventually scoffed.

"It is," he said with a laugh. "I wouldn't take it personally. Chemistry between molecules can be quantified, but chemistry between people can't. It's just a nonsensical algorithm, at the end of the day." A pause. "I'm glad we got paired so we can talk, though. It's given me an excuse to take you somewhere new."

With a hand to her face in a meager attempt to hide her mildly flustered look, she managed to evenly respond, "That's a bonus, yes, but don't wait for another bizarre dating event to extend an invitation next time."

Alan slowly nodded, watching her in mild amusement again. "Dually noted," he said with a tap of his fingers on the table, standing up when he saw that the screen refreshed with new names. He hesitated by his chair, not yet moving. "By the way. Outside of practice the first day, I'm still waiting to hear you play the cello suite. Just because we're not practicing on Monday, doesn't mean you get to slack off on practicing," he gently teased with a smile.

"The gall," she said with a snort, "to assume that I'm slacking off."

Alan grinned, chuckling. "I can't wait for you to prove me wrong, then. See you later?"

Hild offered a sincere smile in turn. "See you later," she echoed.

And with that, Mister Alan walked off with a pleasant smile and a small wave goodbye. She waved back, and went to finish her notes.

Then paused when she noticed that he'd forgotten the notepad she lent him. She was about to call for him to come back, but her name at the top of the page caught her eye. Curiously, she turned it toward herself to find a tall, rushed scrawl addressed to her.

Miss Hild Ashlund,

You're right.

I do believe in fate.

-AA

And punctuating the short note was a frankly terrible sketch of a llama.

Hild bit back a laugh as she studied the poor, wretched-looking creature, then pocketed the note for safekeeping.

Shane was trying not to sweat through his button-down shirt even before he got into the chair. He'd been an unwilling participant in this from the moment he'd been forced out of his room, but seeing the display that read Shane and Alan on a table from across the room had awoken feelings of dread in him that he didn't know even existed.

A day before, he would've been close to rejoicing. He already knew he could hold a comfortable conversation with Alan, and he would've been glad for the opportunity to have more one-on-one time with him. But after the interview this morning, what with learning--

No, don't think about that. You don't want to get sick on a date, even if it's meant to be speedy. Definitely not in front of Alan.

Shane took a deep breath as he slid into the chair, folding his hands in front of him on the table. This was a conversation. With someone he knew already. Someone he very much liked talking to. He wasn't about to die at war.

Although, he'd been wishing some godly hand would crash down from the evening and put him out of his misery all day now. So that would've almost been a fate he would welcome.

"Hey, Shane," Alan said with a smile as he approached, pulling up the chair. "It's great to see you again."

"Alan," Shane said, doing his best to smile warmly. "I'm glad you're here too."

He was glad-- that was entirely true. And yet, some part of him still felt sick to his stomach. He was stuck between wanting to blurt out Do you know what they're saying about us? and wanting to run back to his room and lock himself in forever.

James was at the table ahead, facing his way. Shane glanced his way briefly, then focused his gaze on the other person at his table. Tula. God, that was not exactly a match made in heaven.

Just as he looked back to James, James looked away. Swallowing hurt, Shane returned his full attention to Alan.

"This is an interesting event, to say the least," Alan mused as he sat down. "Not really quite how I pictured my day going, but it's been a pleasant surprise."

Shane laughed, glancing around the room. "It has an exciting feel," he lied. "Yet again, they put a lot of effort into these things."

Mel gave them the instructions to begin, and Shane read over the three questions on the display.

"Well... I'm not really sure what the end goal of these questions are for, but they are intriguing. Should we go down the list?" Alan asked with a smile.

Shane nodded with a smile. "Sure. Do you want to go first?"

Alan nodded, re-reading the first question. "Do I believe in luck or fate?" he thought out loud, setting his elbow on the table and perching his chin on his hand, eyes still on the tablet as he thought through the question. "I know it's naive, but I'd have to go with fate. I'd like to think that everything happen for a reason."

"I've been grappling with that idea for some time," Shane admitted, curling his fingers around the coffee mug that had been set out for him, trying to stay a little more grounded. The ceramic surface warmed his hands, somewhere between painfully and comfortingly. "Struggling with it, really. I actually don't like hearing that everything happens for a reason." He paused, dropping his gaze to the screen. "And yet, it seems like they happen out of our control."

Alan sat up straighter, his focus now soley on Shane. "It is a hard concept to think through. Would you say that you believe more in happenstance, then?"

"I'm not a strong believer in coincidence," Shane said, looking back up with a shake of his head. "I think... what we call moments that feel caused by chance aren't as random as they seem. The world is an endless chain reaction of people and their actions and their decisions, and every moment was preceded by a million more. One thing a person does influences someone else to do something different, and then that other person experiences something entirely unexpected as a result of that action. The first person may have even had a chain reaction of their own, leading them to decide to do what they did. And it looks like an accident, but it was set in motion far, far back, with all the pieces coming into play before anyone could predict where it would lead to. Like it was irreversible before it even began."

Shane paused here, wondering if he'd said too much.

"This is a difficult belief to reconcile with my aversion to the idea that some things of great pain are inevitable," he finished.

Alan had his undivided attention on Shane, only nodding when Shane finished. Even then, a small silence stretched on, possibly to allow Shane to say something else, or to give himself time to think. Perhaps both.

"I think you make really good points. Forgive me if I appear crass for saying that I believe everything happens for a reason. It's not at all my implication that tragedy ought to be justified. I admit I haven't thought about it from this angle, but perhaps I should give this more thought. Believing in fate is likely too romanticized and idealistic for the realities of life. I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for sharing," Alan said with a small smile.

Shane smiled back faintly to reassure him it was okay. "There's nothing to forgive. I don't want you giving up on optimism and hopefulness," he said. "I think it's lovely you can still hold onto those. Pessimism isn't always deep, and optimism isn't always foolish. I admire people who can still see the best in the world."

Alan's smile grew just a little in appreciation. "You have a way with words, Shane. It's a real gift. You're somehow able to balance being grounded, yet you still have a passionate and curious air to you. It's hard to balance both sides when weighing reality with idealism. I admire that."

The smile that followed Alan's words came much more easily to Shane's face. "Thank you," he said with a slight laugh. "I hope you'll still think so after my answer to the next question. I'm not a terribly adventurous person, and I have very few examples of this. Whatever I can provide will not be very enlightening."

"Oh, come on," Alan teased with a grin, leaning forward slightly. "I'm sure you have something to share. Being adventurous is subjective. What's adventurous to you may not be adventurous for someone else, and vice versa. I'm sure whatever you think of would make a great story."

Grinning back, Shane looked down at his coffee mug, drumming his fingers against it as he thought.

"Okay," he said, looking back up. "I left my final college decision up to a coin toss."

Alan stared at him for a second before laughing and shaking his head. "What? Really? You left that decision to chance?"

"Or fate," Shane joked, letting out a laugh as well. "It was between my top two choices, and both were equal in merit. I could see myself as fulfilled in either place, and it was too difficult to decide between them. So, I flipped a coin." He shook his head at himself in amusement. "It was a bit liberating to have the decision out of my hands, honestly. I never regretted the outcome of the toss."

Alan still looked at him with awe and amusement, still wearing the grin. "That is insane but so refreshing. I'm really glad it worked out for you, though. It certainly does make for a fun, adventurous story."

Shane kept smiling, shyly but brightly, only pausing to take a quick sip of coffee. It tasted the same as the cup he'd had this morning on the interview-- bold and rich, but a little darker and more bitter than he liked. "Glad you think so," he said with a bit of a laugh. "What's your story of adventure, then?"

Alan hummed, drumming his fingers along the table. He was eyeing the glass of wine in front of him, but he hadn't touched it yet.

"Right before I came on this island, I went for a backpacking trip that lasted about a month. I think I just needed a different change of pace. It was certainly adventurous, though. I hadn't done anything like that by myself before," Alan said.

Shane smiled. "By yourself? That is impressive, and it must have taken a lot of determination and courage. Where did you go backpacking?"

"There's a trail that reaches the north and south end of Argentia, so I started there. Unfortunately, I didn't get to finish since I had to come here, but... it hasn't been bad being here too. It's nice to be able to sleep on a bed again," Alan said with a laugh. "Although, it does feel so freeing to be able to put my life in a bag and just... go. I can't say it prepared me well for the island life, though. I only came in with the items in my bag, and thankfully I had the foresight to ship my violin at the drop-off point ahead of time. It's been a hell of an adventure, but I wouldn't say it has ended yet. It only evolved to this one."

Shane listened closely, smiling the whole time and nodding once he'd finished. "Maybe you'll get to finish one day," he suggested. "The adventure doesn't have to end after this island, either."

"Maybe," Alan said. "I wouldn't consider myself a completionist, but I would finish the trail if it feels right in the future. I agree that the adventure doesn't have to end after I leave the island, though. I'd like to think that life is one big adventure. Sometimes I get lost in the chaos of life and do forget this - but I try my best to give myself reminders if I feel like I'm in a lull. I suppose the backpacking trip was one of them."

Shane smiled, meeting his gaze. "You have nice wisdom, Alan," he said, a little softly. "I hope you don't mind me keeping this in mind as advice for later when life begins to feel that way again. I hope you feel accomplished whether or not you go back to finish."

Alan smiled back, nodding. "Of course, Shane. It wasn't my intention to give advice, but I'm glad I could help." He paused. "I wouldn't say I've figured it all out, though. I went on the trail to figure it out. I can't say I came out of it knowing all the answers. But as I said before: life is one big adventure. I don't have all the answers now, but I'm sure I'll figure it out along the way."

Shane nodded as well, still smiling. "It's perfectly okay if you don't have the answers. The questions remain the same, whatever they are, and they'll wait for you."

Alan hummed. "What are these questions to you?"

Shane grinned slightly. "Ah, we're asking questions of our own. I like it." He hummed, giving it some thought. "Well, I ask myself whether the fate that looks to be ahead of me is really as set in stone as it looks. It's a difficult question, because all possible answers seem either bleak or naïve. But at least it's not a timebound question-- I'm unlikely to discover the answer soon, but this is the rest of my life we're talking about here. I don't need to rush it."

Alan nodded, his sole attention focused on Shane again. "You mentioned fate. But if what you said was true before-- if fate doesn't exist, that is-- then your future isn't set in stone. Luck, chance, and happenstance can change your outlook and provide answers that don't look bleak or naive. You may be surprised what you discover about yourself. It's part of the beauty of life, after all. To enjoy unexpected surprises that exist to enrich your life."

You forgot I don't believe in happenstance, Shane thought, but he didn't say that out loud.

"I just hope all the choices aren't made for me," he said, with a bit of a laugh. "Maybe it's not so much that fate is pre-determined as that our choices, and the ones other people make, can have a lot of consequences that are difficult to take back once they've been set in motion. Unless more new, unexpected things happen to alter the course of events furthermore." He shrugged, a little sheepishly. "Anyway. Thank you for adding that. Are your questions any different?"

Alan paused here again, but Shane was getting the feeling that these pauses were one of patience, allowing Shane time to add in more thoughts if he so desired. Alan was usually the one navigating and directing conversation, but it seemed that he was letting Shane naturally fill this role instead.

Alan smiled, but this smile didn't feel warm or welcoming like the others. He had an almost bittersweet and melancholic air to him, but perhaps that was because of the more bleak conversation topic that constrasted against Alan's usual hopeful rose-tinted opinions about the world.

"Mine are, but I admit, I still need to give them some thought and make them more realistic. I'm aware that I have a more idealistic outlook on life, but I'm getting better at toning it down. Being closer to reality and all that," he said.

Shane paused. "Again, that really isn't a flaw," he said with a soft smile. "Having hope is powerful."

"Apologies. You misunderstand. Being hopeful is not a flaw, but being naive is," Alan said with a small smile. "But that's just my opinion."

"I have to admit, I don't find you naïve," Shane said, chuckling gently. "There's a difference between choosing to not lose sight of a bright side and pretending there's a light at the end of the tunnel when there's nothing ahead to find. This is also just my opinion, and I only really have the evidence of a week of knowing you, but you strike me as much more of the former."

Alan lightly nodded, smiling again as he left more space before answering. "For only having known me for a week, that's quite observant of you. I'd say that's a fair assessment."

Alan fidgeted to sit closer to the edge of his seat, getting deeper in thought before he continued.

"Adding on to your analogy, though... some lights are not worth chasing. It can be hard to determine which tunnel to venture down and which lights truly lead to the desired destination. How do you know when to give up? When to turn around and leave? To start over? To invest time, effort, and heart into a path, only to realize you've been going in circles? I wish life was a singular straight line that you can walk towards to reach your destination. Unfortunately, life isn't that simple. It may be for others, but not everyone's path looks the same."

Shane hesitated. This was rather melancholic.

"You know," he said, a little carefully, "I don't feel as though I go in circles, but I do feel as though I run into dead ends. In moments like those, the ability to turn around and take a different path is a blessing. Or really, a second chance. Any path that limits your future options can quickly become a trap." He laughed slightly at himself, dropping his gaze to the table for a moment. "I say this like I've come to accept it, but I don't find holding onto a light in the distance and having to turn back once it winks out as a pleasant thing either. Maybe just a reminder-- although a difficult one-- that we're meant to try things before we figure out what we're meant for. Everything that feels like a detour could just be a lesson and another turn onto the right path."

Alan nodded again, taking in his words. "It is a good reminder. Thank you." A pause. "I have to say, though, I'm getting weary of aimlessly wandering or running into dead ends. There are a finite amount of tries one can take before realizing that maybe it's just not meant to be."

Alan sighed, shaking his head and offering another small smile.

"Anyways. We don't need to dwell on that subject. I'll spare you the speeches," he said more lightheartedly.

"It's up to you," Shane said, returning the smile. "If you feel called to share, you're always welcome to with me. If you don't want to, I won't ever push you to. That's a promise."

The gong rang, and Shane jumped slightly, then let out a nervous laugh.

"That went by fast," he said.

Alan paused, his gaze resting on the oversized gong before he looked back at Shane with a warmer smile.

"Heads or tails?" Alan asked, suddenly reaching in his back pocket.

A slow grin spread over Shane's face. "Heads."

Alan took out a silver coin, resting it on his thumb, ready to flip.

"We got distracted and didn't get the chance to to answer the third question, so I offer a proposition: if it's heads, then we meet again some other time this week to discuss. If it's tails, then we let it rest."

Alan grinned, slightly lifting his head, ready to flip the coin.

"What do you say? Ready to leave this up to a 50-50 chance?" he asked.

Shane grinned, not sure where this was leading, but intrigued and excited anyway. "I accept whatever outcome luck will give us, but you should know I'm rooting for one of those more than the other."

Before Alan could flip the coin, however, the tablet beside them refreshed with new words.

IT'S A MATCH!

Alan is #1 on Shane's personal choice ranking.

Shane is #1 on Alan's compatibility rankings.

Based on the above analysis and conversation, we predict:
VERY HIGH COMPATIBILITY!

Oh, huh, Shane thought, staring at the screen. Is this why people are... writing about us?

"I-- didn't know they would do that," he said, with a bashful laugh. "That's neat-- interesting data analysis, I mean."

Alan stared at the screen for a few seconds, processing. He didn't comment on the statistics, instead clearing his throat and flipping the coin in the air, but not straight up. Instead, he tossed it towards Shane for him to catch.

"What's the verdict?" he asked with a nonchalant smile, getting up from his chair.

In his awkwardness, Shane barely caught the coin, fumbling to hold it out on his palm. He saw a brief flash of Alan flipping the coin in front of a young laughing child, and a feeling of warmth filled him. He blinked the vision away as he refocused his gaze on the coin.

"Heads," he said, smiling again.

Alan hummed, smile growing as he pushed in his chair. "I'll let you decide if that's due to fate or luck. I'll see you around, yeah?"

Shane's smile became a grin as well. "I'll see you. Fate or luck, whichever it is, demands it."

Alan waved, still smiling, as he moved over to another table. Shane watched him leave with a lingering smile before looking down at the coin in his hand, which was apparently his to keep. He idly pinched it between his fingers and turned it around before he paused, giving it a longer look. Then he laughed. The coin was manufactured to have two head sides.

Not so much fate or luck as intentional meddling with both. For some reason, this warmed his heart.

Tucking it away, he looked back up, gaze focusing on the screen, which now read: Shane and Tula.

Shane blinked.

What?

"Hi Shane! Look like we matched," Tula said in front of him with a smile, pulling up the chair to sit. "This is all a little silly, isn't it? A little embarassing, really... but it's also nice to get to know everyone."

Shane wasn't sure of what the expression on his face looked like right now, but he had to hope it was neutral to pleasant. Just to improve his chances, he made himself smile.

"I hear speed dating is all about that," he said with a casual shrug. "It's gone well for me so far. How was your first round?"

"Pretty well, I think! I don't know what the DMV has in mind for this, but..." Tula let out a bashful laugh, shaking her head. "This is not a great way to set up a date. But I'm just rolling with it and trying to have fun with it."

Shane nodded along, scanning her face. She was acting so... normal. Not like the kind of person who would threaten to burn down James' world. It unnerved him.

Well. Maybe two could play at the undercover game.

"Valemteens Day is not my favorite of holidays, and they went a little overboard," he agreed. "I'd much rather treat this as a mixer."

"Oh, you don't like Valemteens Day? Well, the decor is kind of tacky, isn't it?" Tula said with a laugh. "I think the idea behind the holiday is sweet, at least. What's your favorite holiday, then?"

They were really going to make casual conversation. Fine. It helped his act, anyway. Shane took a deep breath.

"It's an Aphiran holiday," he said. "We celebrate the fall equinox. It's a pretty tame celebration, just a time to enjoy the changing of the seasons and go out to see the leaves."

"Oh, cool, I haven't heard of that one before, but that reminds me of my favorite holiday from Arabae, which is where I'm from. It coincides with the spring equinox, but it lasts for a full month. It's also a tame celebration, but it's to celebrate and appreciate the end of winter. It's a rather spiritual celebration, actually, and tests your resolve with fasting, prayer, and reflection. The whole community comes together, so I look forward to it every time. There's nothing else like it."

Tula shyly laughed again.

"Sorry. I'm getting carried away. Maybe we should start answering the questions," she said.

"That's a good answer. I agree, though, these are good icebreakers," Shane said. "What do you think on fate and luck, then?"

Tula hummed. "It's tough to say. I want to say fate because I think there's a spiritual path for everyone, but at the same time, it's terrible to say that bad things happen for a reason, you know? I don't know..." She looked down at her table, sadness washing over her. "I used to believe that everything happens for a reason, but... when my sister died, I didn't know what to think anymore. People told me she's in a better place, but... I don't know. It's..."

Tula sighed, but she let out a soft, anxious laugh, shaking her head and pushing a strand of curly hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dump that on you. It's a personal question," she said.

Shane felt like pursing his lips or gritting his teeth-- making some kind of reaction over how this bothered him. Instead, he let sympathy wash over his face, nodding attentively.

He really didn't like how hard she was making this, with an answer that could have been his. Was it on purpose? Was she predicting him?

He didn't feel like sharing his philosophy with her the way he'd shared it with Alan. This also was a question with no wrong answers, so...

Maybe he could test how likely he was to get away with a lie.

"I understand," he said, trying to sound gentle. "I can see why a saying like that would have a clobbering effect in a moment of grief. Personally, I've always believed in free will over anything fated, and the unpredictablity of life over anything predetermined. It doesn't make sense for tragedy to have reasons behind it. How could the world organize itself in that way?"

Tula nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly. I completely agree. How can anyone justify war? The innocent lives lost? The sick? The tragedies? I just can't wrap my head around it anymore. I can't justify these things... I don't want to say that it's God's plan or that there's a reason why someone died so young. It feels morally wrong, you know? At the same time, it's so scary that the unpredictability of life can just... take you. It's scary knowing that your life is yet to be written."

"It is," Shane said like he agreed, coming up with counterarguments to his opinions on the fly. "The role chance and happenstance plays in our lives is both vast and terrifying. The way everything can change in a moment further makes it seem like the future is ungovernable. If I wanted, I could do something random and impulsive tomorrow that I'd never do normally, like jump in front of a goolf cart, and set my life off-course. It's hard to argue that everyone has a predetermined set of events meant to happen in their life when nothing can be predicted and everything can change in the blink of an eye."

"Oh my gosh, please don't jump in front of a goolf cart just to prove a point!" Tula said with a nervous laugh.

Shane laughed nervously as well. "I would never. Hopefully the point is clear as it stands."

"It is," Tula said with an appreciative smile. "Thank you. That does really help a lot. I mean it."

"Of course. Thanks for sharing." Shane forced another smile, looking back at the screen. This question would be more of a test. The fate question was abstract, and it was easy to argue an opposing perspective even when he occupied a sort of middle ground, but this took examples. He'd have to be specific in a lie. "So, Tula, in what ways are you adventurous?"

"An adventurous story... Hmmmm," Tula drew out, tapping her chin as she squinted up towards the ceiling. "Oh! I remember now." She turned back to Shane with a smile. "I'm a photographer, and my focus is on portraits, but one week I woke up and decided I'm going to get an animal photo. I took so many street cat photos that day." She laughed again, shaking her head. "Alright, that doesn't sound very adventurous, but stay with me here. I wanted to challenge myself, so I thought, 'What's an animal that I could capture that's not easily caught on camera?'" She wore an excited smile, snapping her fingers. "A bird. It's so hard to catch them when they're mid-flight! I didn't know squat about birds, though, so-- you won't believe this-- but I took a bird watching seminar. Gah! Still can't believe I did that." She smiled longingly, shaking her head and sighing. "Anyways, I'll skip the other boring details and announce that I'm now a certified bird watcher and part time bird photographer. It's so random, and maybe it's not that adventurous, but it's pretty amusing anyways, hm?"

"It's definitely fun," Shane said, keeping his voice bright. "It's nice that you had the opportunity to take something you liked doing and expand your skill through trying something new and putting in the effort to get better at it. That counts as adventurous to me."

"Thanks. I think so too," Tula said warmly. "What about you? In what ways are you adventurous?"

Shane looked upwards, as though he were searching through old memories and not about to make something up on the spot. Time to see how convincing he could be.

"I've gone spelunking every birthday since my eighteenth," he said, grinning a little as if he was timid to admit it. "It was terrifying the first time, but I was having fun by the end. It got easier each time as well."

That was an outrageous lie. Anyone who knew him personally was aware that first, he wasn't all that outdoorsy. Second, he wasn't much of a risk-taker either. And third, he was claustrophobic enough that the mere idea of crawling inside a narrow rock tunnel made him want to shudder. But if he could convince her of this, it could mean she'd be convinced by other lies too.

"Oh wow! That sounds scary. I don't think I could ever do that. I'd feel too claustrophobic. What if the cave falls on me? Eesh," Tula said with a crinkle of her nose.

"That was what I thought too," Shane said, punctuating the statement with a laugh. "And I was even more worried of getting stuck and not being able to go any further. The funny thing about it though is that once you've started, you can't really turn back. You do have to keep going. And the desire to not remain buried in rock is a pretty strong motivator."

Tula seemed mesmerized by his words, in awe as she then sat up straight when she had slowly leaned forward while he spoke.

"Wow! You're super brave. I could never. That is so scary! Eesh... I don't know how you do it," she said with a laugh.

Shane tried not to feel too victorious. If she somehow thought he could be brave, maybe he was more convincing than he thought. There was still the element that this was an act for her too and he doubted she actually thought what she said-- but nonetheless, it seemed as though he'd flown under the radar.

"I don't know about brave," he said with a chuckle. "All I know is I managed to find some excitement in something scary."

God, he didn't even sound like himself.

"Awh. That's so touching, actually," Tula said with a smile. "I like that. I'd say the experience would be less scary, buuuuut..." She chuckled, shaking her head. "Sorry. It's still scary."

"That's fair," Shane said, keeping his smile up as he glanced at the screen again. One more question to go, he told himself. "Ah, this one is interesting. What's something you've always wanted to try but haven't gotten around to doing?" he read out loud.

"Hmmmm. I've always wanted to travel more, actually. To Aphirah especially. I've always wanted to go!" She smiled. "That's your home country, right? What part of Aphirah are you from?"

Shane didn't think long. The truth was public information, but if he got called out on a lie for this, he had an easy way of covering it up with something that was truth. Besides, this was a way to guess how much she knew about him.

"From the West region," he said.

"Oh! What part? Is that near... what's it called... Amber City...?" Tula asked, saying the city name uncertainty like she wasn't completely sure if that was the right city to say.

"Yeah, that's where it's located," Shane said with a nod. He wasn't about to push his luck and lie about basic geography. "I'm from about that area. It's a very nice place."

"Very cool! What's it like? Do you miss being home?" Tula asked. "Oh, I'd love to visit one day. It'd be my dream."

Shane smiled, which wasn't so hard when he was about to talk about a place he liked. "It's very beautiful," he said. "The architecture is gorgeous, the climate is perfect, and the history is fascinating. I do look forward to returning."

"I bet! Is it true that it's the longest surviving port city in the world? It's such a historic city!" she said in wonder.

He definitely wasn't about to lie about history.

"That's the consensus," Shane said, nodding. "It's hard to know for sure, when it's so old, but there's evidence that it's the oldest that still lasts to today."

"Wow!" she breathed out. "Very cool. I'll have to hit you up whenever I visit someday. Hopefully soon."

Well, she wouldn't find him there, that was for sure. But that was a non-issue.

"Yes, feel free," he assured her. "I'm always happy to show the place off."

"Oh, I almost forgot. What's something you've always wanted to try but haven't done yet? Sorry, I can talk about Amber City all day. It's a very cool place. But I do want to know your answer," Tula said.

Ah, right. He hadn't been thinking of a lie, and he regretted not using this time for it.

"Flying, actually," he said on impulse. "In a helicopter or plane, of course."

"Gosh, Shane. Are you a thrill seeker? Heights and tight spaces? You really are brave," Tula said with a laugh.

Shane almost laughed at how false that sounded to him. Instead he laughed as a natural-seeming reaction.

"I don't know, heights aren't too scary," he said with a chuckle, and that was at least true for him. "At least not from the interior of a vehicle. A piloting license has been on my bucket list for a while, although I'm not sure when I'll ever have the time for it."

"I imagine getting that license is so much work..." Tula said with a sigh. "Arabae has public transit, so I don't even have a driver's license. Even driving a car sounds scary to me. But maybe I'm just being a big baby."

"Oh, cars honestly are scary," Shane admitted, which was actually true for him. "Somehow, planes are less so for me. But anyway, we'll see where that leads."

"Definitely." Tula nodded, pursing her lips and glancing back at the stage. "Well, it seems that we have extra time. We put the 'speed' in 'speed-dating,' don't we?" she said with a smile.

Shane smiled as best as he could. "Seems that way."

Tula smiled, rubbing her hands in front of her as she glanced around the room. She almost looked kind of... awkward. Like she didn't know what to do with her time now.

This was... a little aggravating. At this point, he couldn't tell his success rate, since she'd never dropped the act. So, he'd either gone completely unnoticed, or... she refused to call him out on anything.

And if it was the latter, it was probably from her knowing too much about him already as opposed to his lies being see-through.

He didn't like this much at all.

"How'd your talk with James go?" he asked casually, hoping to gather some info while he was here.

"Pretty well, I'd say!" Tula said with relief like she was glad for a new topic, but then looked embarrassed. "It was embarrassing when we saw that we were each other's top match, though. Like why release that information? Sheesh..."

"You were?" Shane asked, with genuine surprise.

"Of course! Did anything like that happen to you?" Tula asked.

Shane hesitated for the briefest moment, trying not to overthink this. Of course the questionnaire wasn't the perfect matchmaker-- it had asked them about kitchen utensils, for God's sake-- but it still felt strange that James and Tula would've matched. Then again, it was also strange that he and Tula matched.

"Yeah, actually," he said, deciding to just be honest about the question. "The screen announced Alan and I as each other's top match."

Tula gasped, hand on her face as if she were feeling second hand embarassment. "Oh my goodness. That is so... awkward."

Shane blinked at her. "Why is that?" he asked.

"Oh! Sorry. I assumed it wasn't mutual. In that case, that's pretty neat. It seems speed dating isn't a total wreck, then," Tula said with an apologetic but friendly smile, nodding eagerly.

Shane regretted this conversation topic. Tula's use of mutual was confusing, but... well, however she meant it, it probably wasn't quite true.

"I mean, it made for a good conversation, if nothing else," he said, laughing with actual nervousness.

"I'm sorry again. That was super rude of me. I'm happy for you guys. You're both really cute." Her eyes then widened, her face flushing red with her hands out in front of her. "I mean! I'm not saying you're cute. I'm saying you're cute as a couple." She paused again. "That is-- if you are a... anyways," she finished with a faint laugh. "Sorry."

Whatever confidence he'd gained over the course of the event was gone, and Shane was back to wanting to lock himself up in his room and throw the key into the ocean. He should've seen this coming.

"Oh, we're not," he said with a shake of his head, like he was apologizing. "I should've made that more clear, sorry. We just-- clicked well. It wasn't surprising to see that like, we had similar thinking, which was what the questionnaire sought to match based on."

It was awkward to have to say this. But he knew it'd be a thousand times more awkward if Tula walked up to Alan with the assumption that they were a couple. His cheeks nearly burned at the thought.

"No, no, that makes sense to me. You don't need to defend youself to me," Tula said, glancing behind him. Maybe at Alan.

She paused, suspiciously looking around again and then leaning forward with a hushed voice.

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked lowly, almost whispering.

Shane nodded slowly, leaning forward so they could whisper and hear each other.

"I can," he said quietly.

"You're not the only one with a crush," Tula said quietly, flicking her eyes to someone behind him again and hesitating. "It's so ridiculous and silly, because it's only been a week, but... I have a big crush on James."

Tula leaned back on her chair with a defeated sigh, blushing as she pressed her lips together and made little circles on the tablecloth with her forefinger.

"I know. It is silly. I don't think he likes me, but..." She sighed again, looking back up at Shane with a more tired smile. "I can't explain it. I know I'm being irrational. But I can't help when I like someone." She sighed once more in defeat. "Have you ever been intensely drawn to someone, even if you've just met them?" Her eyes then widened again, looking like she regretted asking. Tula nervously laughed and quickly shook her head, holding her hands up in front of her. "Sorry! Don't answer that. That's too personal. Ignore me. I'm just... hah. I'm sorry."

Shane wanted to do a few things in this moment. One of them was to correct her and say he didn't have a crush. The other was to laugh in her face that she thought he'd believe that. Did she think he hadn't communicated with James after the party? If she didn't, that was his advantage, but he still felt a little offended she didn't even try to be more deceptive with him.

He had to remember this was a good thing, though. If he led her on to think he might believe it, she might think he wasn't so suspicious of her.

"That's really rough, Tula," he said gently. "I wish I could help you there. In fact, if you think I can do something for you, I'd be happy to try. I'm not sure what there is, though."

Tula sighed in relief. "I'm not so sure either, but I'll let you know if I think of something. Thank you, Shane. I'm so glad I can trust you."

Again, he felt like laughing. This was too much.

"Of course," he said gently, then added quietly, "For the record, I don't actually have a crush. But I do still see where you're coming from. Feelings are weird like that."

"Oh my goodness. Gah. I'm sorry. I don't mean to--"

The gong ran out again, and if Shane hadn't suppressed the instinct to jump, he would've bumped his head with Tula's.

"Ah... saved by the bell," she said with a quiet laugh.

Shane laughed anxiously, leaning back. "It's been a good talk. Thanks for sharing, Tula."

"No problem!" She then stood up, brushing down her dress before turning towards him with a smile. "I'll see you around, Shane."

Shane smiled back, waving, but as soon as she turned his gaze dropped to the screen, which had just updated.

Tula is Shane's #1 in compatibility rankings. Tula also scores in personal choice rankings.

Shane is Tula's #2 in personal choice rankings.

Based on the above analysis and the conversation, we detect:
MEDIUM COMPATIBILITY!

Shane stared at it for a while, wondering what strange logic governed this analysis. But right now, he felt too tired to question why this was happening. He wanted to go home-- well, go back to the cabin, which was second best-- and go back to hiding in his room from everyone but Shrimp. Shrimp didn't judge. If he did, he would've been judging Shane all along for naming him that.

The screen display changed, and it announced the next pairing, signaling he should stay where he was: Shane and Lyall.

Shane let out a faint sigh of relief, adjusting his posture. This couldn't be that bad.

Lyall slid into the seat across from him. Indeed dressed to impress, per the flyer's instructions, in a deep teal button up elegantly patterned with rust red and pale yellow flora, and a dark suit jacket over top of it. He'd taken the time to tame and sweep back his hair today, unlike all of this past week.

The young doctor offered Shane a bright grin. "How's the speed dating treating you thus far?" he asked, tone gentle.

"Hey, Lyall," Shane said with a bit of a laugh. "It's been good overall. How's your time been?"

"Likewise pleasant," he answered. He quickly scanned the room, as if he was checking that a certain someone wasn't within earshot. "You know, I still haven't found opportunity to talk with Miss Tula yet. What's your read on her?"

"Oh, she's... nice," Shane said, after a bit of delay, but kept smiling. "We had a good talk."

Suddenly there was a loud screeching as a man dragged a chair across the room towards their table. The room was silenced as heads were turned, watching Hendrik dragging the chair until he stopped at their table.

"Cowboy. Cinderella," Hendrik greeted with a nod to Lyall and Shane, then sat down. "Howdy, gentlemen. Allow me to interfere. What are we talking about?"

Shane's jaw slowly dropped in confusion, and he felt the stares burning into him. His cheeks flushed.

"I'm sorry, what... did you call us?" he asked quietly.

"Uh, howdy?" Lyall managed with a tense smile.

Hendrik grabbed the warm spiced mead that was untouched in front of Lyall, quickly chugging it down then slamming the mug down with a refreshed "ah." Lyall glanced at his now-drained mug with resignation.

"The damn film crew is out to get me. I swear," Hendrik growled, then slammed his fists on the table angrily. Shane flinched, leaning back in his chair. "They keep pairing me with crazy eyes! What the hell!"

Shaking his head, Hendrik took out a flask from his back pocket and poured the clear liquid back in Lyall's mug, wordlessly pushing it back towards him.

Shane's gaze flicked to Stravos across the room, who was now shaking the tablet, bringing it centimeters to his face to examine it closely, then aggresively shaking it again, repeating the cycle. The man who always wore a trench coat, Aaron, slowed in his approach toward Stravos's table, looking reasonably uncertain.

"...Sorry to hear that," Shane said, looking back to Hendrik with a still-baffled expression.

"Much as I wouldn't mind providing refuge," Lyall said, taking on a diplomatic tone, "you may need to bite the bullet and just talk with the fellow--"

"Hah! Bullets," Hendrik said with a guffaw as if Lyall said a funny joke.

Hendrik then proceeded to take Shane's coffee mug, gulping that down as well. Shane stared at him, unsure what to do, and soon enough, there was nothing to do. The coffee was gone.

At this, Lyall abruptly stood, patience already worn through. "Sir," he said firmly, "I'm going to politely request that you find another table. This isn't--"

"Oh, calm your kroks. I'm refilling it," Hendrik grumbled with a shake of his head, now pouring brown liquid from his flask, even though before Shane had seen him pour clear liquid. He pushed the now-full mug back towards Shane.

Shane stared down at it, feeling sick. There was no way he was going to drink that, and they still had most of the room's attention on them.

"The fact remains," Lyall began, "there's--"

"Gentlemen," Hendrik said over Lyall again, picking up his flask. "A toast?"

"To what?" Shane finally sputtered. "What are you doing?"

"No thank you," Lyall said darkly.

"To the end of this fucking day," Hendrik growled.

"The fact remains," Lyall tried again, hands set firmly on the table, "there's no room for a third participant. So take your lacking manners and bitter toasts to the day's end somwhere else, please."

"Hmph?" Hendrik looked between the two of them and then down at the chair he was sitting on. "I beg to differ. There's plenty of room. In fact, I think we can get even cozier. You can come closer if you want. I don't bite. I promise."

With that, he winked at them, and Shane couldn't suppress a shudder.

Lyall visibly bristled. "That is in no way a tempting proposition."

"A toast, then? To not biting?" Hendrik offered instead, picking up his flask again.

His heated glare turning into a full-on scowl, Lyall lifted his previously-mead mug now filled with mysterious clear liquid. "A toast, then," he obliged, a hard edge to his voice, "to your ass when it leaves our table."

Hendrik whistled lowly, chugging his flask and then letting out another "ah" before standing up. "Feisty one, are ya, cowboy? I knew you would be," Hendrik teased and then aggresively patted his shoulder to the point that it looked like a slap. Lyall's jaw clenched, but the smaller man stood his ground.

"Why are you calling him that?" Shane asked wearily.

"See you later, boys," Hendrik said with a salute, now dragging his chair somewhere else.

Film crew was now yelling at him, and after some bickering, Hendrik huffed and picked up his chair instead, walking over to Clarity and Jay's table-- both of whom were already giving each other the silent treatment, and looked ready to do the same with him.

Shane buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. Great. This was great. He had not at all had his fill of public humiliation. He stayed like this until Lyall spoke again.

"That was..." The doctor finally sat down again. "...distasteful." He grimaced, looking likewise thoroughly embarrassed by the ordeal. "I'm sorry, I don't usually...lose my temper so quickly."

"It wasn't your fault at all," Shane murmured, finally pulling his hands away from his face. "Thanks for saying something."

Lyall flashed him a half-hearted grin, but replied earnestly, "Anytime."

He drummed his hands on the table, looking ready to move on. "So! I'm sure we've both cycled through the same questions enough times by now. Why don't we deviate a bit?"

Scrunching his nose, Lyall slowly moved aside the contaminated cups. "What's something exciting you've done once, and wish you could do again?"

Shane let out a faint laugh of tired relief, running a hand through his hair. "That is a good question," he said, forcing himself to think about it. "I once went on a little expedition to camp with a few friends, out in the middle of nowhere. It's the only time I've been properly camping."

He drummed his fingers on the table, wondering how to go on.

"Aphirah has some serious light pollution issues, which is ironic, considering we were once known for being pioneers in astronomy," he said. "Cities are getting too bright to see the sky, and there's very few places left where the stars are bright. It's such an insane thought to me that I was born in a city named after the starlight we can't see anymore." He paused. "But when we were out camping, we actually saw them. I almost couldn't believe it. It was just... surreal, to be seeing the sky as it was meant to be seen, the same sky that people of countless generations have been looking up at. It's one of the only times of my life I've caught a glimpse of the stars, and I'd love to have another chance at it."

With a faint grin, Lyall listened with rapt attention, glancing up at the ceiling once as if to try to picture it himself. "I'm not fond of outdoor outings myself," he said honestly, "but that does sound like an unmatched view, well worth the trip."

"I'm not so outdoorsy either," Shane admitted, knowing Tula wasn't within earshot. "I actually had to be convinced to go along on it. I'm eternally grateful that I did, though."

There was quick pause where Lyall looked lost in thought. "I've traveled, but never been to Aphirah before," he eventually said. "Are there any places you'd recommend visiting? Off the beaten path, away from any overly-touristy destinations?"

Shane hummed, giving it some careful thought. "Aphirah's northern coast has some very nice spots," he said. "Picture tranquil, alpine beaches lined with pine trees. It's usually cold and gray, but in a very gorgeous way."

Lyall hummed, glancing up at the ceiling in a show of indeed picturing it. "Anywhere...less surrounded by water?" he asked, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

Shane chuckled. "Not a fan?" he asked. "I'd recommend the higher mountains in the area then. You'll still see water, but it'll be a distant view."

"A much more favorable relative position," Lyall said with an appreciative nod.

Shane smiled gently. "Let me know if there's more you'd like to know about the area. What's your answer to the question?"

Lyall gave an exaggerated hum in thought. "I tried mountain climbing once before, actually," he answered. "I believe it was still too close to human civilization to get the same starry view that you did, but we were fortunate enough to make it in time for an evening display of the aurora borora lights! I wouldn't mind another trek skyward, just to see that again."

"Oh, wow," Shane said, his eyes widening. "That sounds gorgeous. Aphirah is in a spot where we should be able to witness those, but I don't think we've had more than a couple spottings per year for a long time now. What was it like? I imagine it's far more vivid than the photos."

"It was breathtaking," Lyall agreed with a broad grin. "Which may have been in part due to the altitude, but yes! Photos don't do them justice." He leaned back, visibly relaxing now that they'd settled into flow of conversation. "You should visit Fjelstad sometime, then! We have the best spots that would increase your chances of a successful sighting."

"I'll have to see if I can arrange to get off the grid while on a diplomacy trip," Shane said with a bit of a laugh. "This seems like it'd be a good thing to add to my bucket list."

Lyall beamed. "Yeah, let me know if you're ever in the area! I might be able to take time off and show you around a bit."

Shane paused, brightening a little. "Really? I think that would be great."

He knew it was wishful thinking, but it was a nice thought. Lyall's excited grin tamed a bit, and Shane knew that he knew it too.

"I know we're supposed to be getting to know each other more," Lyall said, "but I'm...really curious about what it's like to have magic in Aphirah."

Shane nodded. "Oh, I don't mind you asking at all. I will say, though, it's an incredibly broad question," he added with a laugh. "It's a bit different across the continent. However, it can be generalized a little-- we're very pro magic, and there's some magic societies that have been flourishing for a long time. You'll often see mages contributing their talents to society, especially in the contexts of civil engineering and magic artifact creation. It often leads to some great, creative work."

Lyall's grin was small, but openly awed as he listened. "I have heard that Aphirah's magically-driven innovations are thus far unmatched in the modern eras. Fjelstad has its own strengths and good qualities, but is rather sheltered from the rest of the world. Thus, we've allowed ourselves to fall behind in that regard. It'd be nice to be somewhere more forward-thinking like Aphirah." With a slightly wry smile, he joked, "I'm sure getting a personal tour with the nation's prince is even less of a possibility, so I shan't ask."

Shane let out a short laugh. "Well, it's not impossible. There's four others of my rank, and there's some vacation time built into the schedule, so they wouldn't miss me too severely. It's certainly not enough time for a cross-country tour, because I could spend a lifetime on that, but it could be enough for one place."

"Well, in that case," Lyall replied, brightening again, "maybe we should try and coordinate, after all this is over. You come by Giant's Stand in Fjelstad, and I'll drop in to...?"

Shane brightened as well. "The Permafrost's Fall. It sounds like we've got a deal."

"Sounds like," Lyall agreed warmly.

He was about to say more when the gong sounded off again, cutting their "date" time short. He huffed, playfully acting put-upon by the interruption, but cast Shane one last friendly smile as he rose to his feet.

"I'm going to hold you to that, by the way," Lyall said in farewell, "no take-backsies!"

Shane grinned slightly, waving his way. "I wouldn't dream of changing my mind."

It was nearing the end of the pairings. Some people were already done and were waiting around, but apparently, Alan still had some people to talk to.

This was starting to exhaust him since this all felt so... fake. But with a sigh, Alan continued on, finding his next table.

It was with Alexander, who was dressed in a matching set of a floral shirt and shorts. They happened to approach the table at the same time.

"Hey, funny timing, Alex," Alan said with a quiet laugh, sitting down. "Let's do this."

"Let's," Alex agreed with a nod of his head, sliding into his seat across from him.

"Well, I suppose there's not that much of a big rush. You're probably tired of saying the same answers over and over again, anyways," Alan said.

"A little," Alex said, holding up his forefinger and thumb in a pinching motion. "I think I'm more curious as to how how this 'algorithm' paired us all up. Wasn't it using those silly questions we answered, like, months before we got here?"

Alan chuckled, nodding and drumming his fingers along the table. "Yeah, that's right. I only remember the kitchen appliance question. I thought that was silly. Do you remember the other ones?"

"There was the one about dancing," Alex said. "Your go-to dance move, I think."

"Ah, right." Alan nodded. "Now that should have been the ice breaker question, but that's just my biased opinion since I like to dance. What did you put down?"

"Salsa," Alex said with a smile and a waggle of his fingers.

"No. Really?" Alan said with a laugh, shaking his head. "I think I put something about dipping your partner. But I should have put salsa because that's my favorite type of dance. I'm from Argentia, after all. It's the capital of salsa." He paused, before straightening up and lightly laughing again. "I think I actually put you down at my top choice for that question. No wonder we're matching."

"It's fate," Alex said, jokingly gesturing to the screen between them, clearly referencing the fate question.

Alan smiled playfully, narrowing his eyes at him. "Do you actually believe in fate, though?"

"When it's convenient, I do," Alex said, leaning forward with his chin on the back of his hand.

Alan hummed, finding himself mirrowing his body language with his other hand. "That's actually a fair point. I don't know why I didn't think of that earlier. I've been saying I believe in fate and have been absolutely grilled by almost everyone so far."

"Oh my god," Alex said. "That sounds horrible. Who grills you on a speed-date? It's not an interrogation."

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that," Alan said with a soft laugh, waving his other hand out in front of him. "It's all in good fun. It just gave me some things to think about. I wouldn't say that I was interrogated."

"Ah, yes," Alex said with a small nod, leaning back into his chair. "Much to think about. I love having super deep conversations on a first ten-minute date. It gives me so much time to really dig into it, you know?"

Alan hummed. He was usually pretty good at reading other people's body language and words they weren't saying, but Alex was strangely a little hard to read.

"Alright then. Hit me. Give me your super deep conversation topic," he said confidently, sitting up straight. "I'm ready."

With a grin, Alex nodded.

"Risky. I like it. Okay," he said. "What do you think is more revealing? Someone's words or their body language?"

"Ah. Good question." Alan sat back on his chair, relaxing as he had one hand on the table, drumming his finger on it again in thought. "I don't think it's black and white. Someone could be direct with words but still not mean it. On the other hand, someone could reveal their intentions through their body, but not say any words at all. It's like--"

Alan smiled, flourishing his hand in front of him.

"Life is like a dance, isn't it? You're a salsa dancer, so you understand when I describe the social setting. You walk into a room full of experienced dancers-- people who know the art of speaking with their body-- and you can have a beautiful, deep conversation without saying a single word. But if you want to communicate intentions, you must use words outside of the dance. Balancing the two acts is a dance of its own, wouldn't you say?" he finished.

"True," Alex said with a raise of his brows. "But people can lie about their intentions all the same. How can you know if it's true?"

"You can always just ask them directly. If they're not a liar, they'll tell the truth. The truth always seeps out in words, body, and soul," Alan said.

"You seem pretty confident in your ability to tell the difference," Alex said with a smirk. "I'm not sure I could say the same."

Alan quietly hummed, watching Alex closely for a moment. "Do you lead or follow? For dance, I mean."

"Typically, I lead," Alexander said. "But I can be convinced to follow."

"Same here. But I don't need convincing to follow," Alan said with a chuckle. "I find it just as rewarding as leading."

Alexander nodded with an amused grin. "You're adaptable," he concluded.

"And willing to answer your question with action," Alan said back. "I think it'd be fun to dance with you sometime."

Alexander's smile spread wide.

"It's been a while since I've had the pleasure of dancing with someone more experienced," he said. "I'd love to."

"Please. I'm not that experienced. I'm sure you're just as good if not better," Alan said with a small laugh.

"I guess we'll find out on the dance floor," Alex said, laughing with him.

"I guess so." Alan sat up straighter, smiling. "It has been a while for me since I've followed, though. But it'd be fun to see what moves leads have and be thrown around. I think it only helps me become a better lead, anyways."

"Describing it as being thrown around makes it sound less like a dance and more like..." Alexander squinted, trailing off in thought. "Well. Violent."

"Well, I hope not. If that's the case, I think the lead needs to be more gentle," Alan said.

"I'll be sure to lead with care," Alex said with a small bow of his head.

Alan nodded slowly, not sure what to say to that, so he decided to move on. "I was thinking performance was a better word, though. Have you ever performed?"

"With dancing?" Alex asked.

"...Yeah. With dancing," Alan said after a brief hesitation.

"Nothing professionally," Alex answered. "And nothing paid. But I can't deny that I tend to make every dance a performance. I guess that's just the way I am."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing. I think that's quite admirable, actually. How does that cliche saying go? 'Dance like you think no one is watching'? I think everyone ought to do that and make the dance special," Alan said.

"It's part of appreciating the little moments in life," Alexander said with a nod. "But also, I can't lie. I thrive off of applause."

"Oh really? Are you an entertainer? Perhaps a different type of performance?" Alan asked curiously.

"Oh! Yes, actually," Alex said, brightening. "Have you ever seen pole dancing?"

Well. Alan didn't know what he expected, but he certainly didn't expect this.

"I'm aware of it. That requires some impressive muscle and flexibility," he said.

"That it does," Alex said with a grin. "It's taken years of practice."

"Very impressive," Alan said again.

Alexander chuckled.

"You said that already," he said with a smirk. "What, did pole dancing surprise you?"

"I admit it did surprise me," Alan said with a small laugh. "Do you get surprised reactions often?"

"I'm pretty used to it," Alex said. "Usually people begin to assume a lot of things about me. Especially about my sex life, for some reason."

Alan didn't usually have moments in which he didn't know what to say, but this took him completely off guard, and his brain completely blanked.

He cleared his throat, deciding to just end the topic altogether.

"It's been nice chatting, but should we move on to the questions?" he asked.

Alex looked at Alan with a teasing - almost belittling pout.

"Oh, you're no fun," Alex said. "But if you insist. Tell me what you think: is this meeting by fate or chance?"

"You first," Alan said.

"Deflecting," Alex said with an eyebrow raise.

"Alright," Alan said with a weak laugh. "I can go first. It's fine." He paused. "I think it's chance. It'd be naive to believe in fate, don't you think?"

"Well said, Alan," Alex agreed. "We are not naive here. No naivete at this table. None at all."

But the way that Alex said it did not in any way imply that Alex fully believed what he was saying. He sounded borderline sarcastic.

Alan was not going to take the bait, though.

"Seems we're in agreement, then. What's the most adventurous thing you've ever done?" he asked instead.

"I'm afraid that, my friend, is not TV-PG," Alexander said with a grin.

Alan was now really starting to get weary of Alexander. He sighed.

"Alright. Then what about the next question?" he asked, not even bothering to spell out the question for him.

"I'd love to go dancing with you sometime," Alexander said, tapping the edge of his glass. "That's something I've never done before."

Alan had to force himself to respond and not let the silence that followed drag on too long for it to begin feeling uncomfortable.

"Oh, I'm not sure. It sounds like you have a lot more experience than me. I think you'd get bored. Sorry," Alan said nonchalantly.

"If you want to say no, you could just do that instead of making up a bunch of excuses and assumptions," Alexander said.

Alan sighed, sitting up straight and making more leveled eye contact with Alexander to better show sincerity.

If he wanted him to be direct, he could be direct.

"If it's strictly just a dance, then I'm perfectly fine with that. But if you have further intentions or desires outside the dance floor-- I'm flattered, truly-- but I'm not interested. I hope you can understand," Alan said.

Alexander took a long, slow sip out of the side of his drink as he listened to Alan, pulling the cup away with a small smirk.

"Just a dance it is, then," he said.

Alan wasn't even sure he wanted to give that to Alexander, but he decided to be less of a pessimist and let this happen, should the opportunity arise. If it were to arise.

"I recall there being other dancers on the island as well. Maybe we could throw a dance social one day," Alan said.

"I think that's a perfect idea," Alexander said, gesturing to Alan with his glass.

Alan nodded, glancing at the tablet again. They had extra time and now he had to fill it. But it seemed that Alex was quicker than he was.

"So," Alex said. "What's something adventurous that you've done?"

"I went on a backpacking trip by myself recently. I packed my life in a bag and lived on a trail for a month. That was fairly adventurous," Alan said.

"All by yourself?" Alex asked.

"I started by myself, but I found trail mates along the way," Alan said.

"Is that easy for you?" Alexander asked. "Befriending people quickly, like that?"

"Well, it's a one-directional trail, and there aren't many people doing it. A presence was enough reason to befriend someone," Alan said with a small shrug.

Alex hummed.

"What was your trail name?" he asked.

"Ah. So you're aware of trail culture," Alan said instead.

"I am," he said. "I've had a few friends who've been on trails. One's trail name was Fernhead. What was yours?"

"Flamingo," Alan lied, making something up. "Don't ask me why. I wish I knew."

Alex pursed his lips, looking unimpressed. But before Alex could say anything more, the gong sounded.

Thank goodness.

"Wrap it up and move to your next date!" Mel sing-songed over the microphone.

"Looks like our time is up. It was lovely chatting with you, Alexander," Alan said, already pushing his chair back.

"So lovely it's a shame that it's over," Alex said. "Until we speak again."

Alexander bowed his head, and then threw back the last of his drink like a shot.

"Until then," Alan said with a nod, already walking away even though the tablet had yet to spit out the compatibility scores.

He didn't really care to know.

Alan wondered how many more of these rounds did he have to do. He was hopping around table to table, and although most of his interactions were pleasant, he didn't think his interaction with Alex was... well, it wasn't great, but it wasn't bad either. He honestly didn't know what to think of it, but he didn't really want to dwell on that thought for too long. Not when the day hadn't ended yet.

So he was relieved to see that the next match was with Lyall. He knew that Lyall was in a committed relationship with his fiance, so Alan didn't have to tread carefully and filter his words or thoughts. He was sure Lyall disliked the premise of actual romantic matching being the end goal of this event, so Alan figured they'd use this time to chat and relax.

Alan sat back and relaxed on his chair, waving with a smile as he saw Lyall approach. Smiling back, the young doctor dropped into the chair across from him.

"Fancy meeting you here," Lyall said with slightly forced breeziness.

"Likewise. I haven't seen you in ages. How's it been since the, what..." Alan looked down at his watch, noting the time. "Two hours since I've seen you?"

"Only two?" Lyall hummed.

"I know," Alan said with a chuckle. "Time flies when you're having fun." He paused. "Unless you think the two hours have gone by too slowly?"

Lyall huffed a laugh as he idly drummed on his knees. "It's been a mixed bag, actually. Though, largely nice, I think. How's it been for you?"

"Pretty good, actually. I think we can agree that the premise behind this event is something we shouldn't take seriously, but it's been nice to hear everyone's answers so far," Alan said, deciding not to mention the mildly uncomfortable moments with Alexander. He paused. "Hendrik went up to your table with Shane, though, right? It was hard to not notice since he was being so loud."

Him scraping his chair across the room was rather loud, after all. Alan had been waiting around, talking to Dante and getting the bagels for James, so he had plenty of glances thrown their way. Lyall even seemed angry at the time.

Wincing, Lyall glanced off and rubbed the back of his neck. "That was...regrettably a thing that happened, yes."

He looked at the questions on the screen. Then carefully laid the device face-down as an open dismissal of their "date". Jokingly, he asked, "Think you found your soulmate yet?"

Ah. So they were going rogue.

Alan was okay with that.

He longingly sighed with feigned disappointment, elbow on table so he could place his hand against his cheek.

"It's hard to say. I've yet to experience love at first sight. If only it were as easy as answering three simple questions," he said with fake contemplation, like he was deeply thinking about his answer.

Folding his arms on the table, Lyall grinned at his theatrics. "Alas. The night is still young, though. 'The One' just might make an appearance yet."

"Mmm. Perhaps. And perhaps their appearance will be as grand and magnificient as it is in the movies. With roses with stars and a candle-lit room as they profess their love with poetry," Alan mused, trying to stay serious, but it was hard not to let the silly smile show.

Lyall rested his chin in his hand, a loose mirror of Alan's posture. "All these years, I've been doing it all wrong, then. Got to up my dating game."

Alan knew Lyall was joking, but he was committed to the bit.

"That's right. Everyone knows that to win someone's heart, you have to sweep them off their feet. The more over-the-top you are, the better." Alan paused, watching Lyall and leaning forward just a bit. "But maybe that's too intense for you."

With a sharp gasp, Lyall feigned deep offense. "How dare-- I'll have you know, sir, that 'over-the-top' is my middle name!"

"Oh really?" Alan said, unable to suppress the laugh that followed. "I don't believe you."

Lyall straightened now, hands set determinedly on the table. "I don't have to prove anything to you. But I shall endeavor to do so anyhow."

"Alright then," Alan said with an amused hum. "Then what's the most over-the-top..."

Alan trailed off because, without another word, Lyall stood abruptly and walked past him. Twisting around, Alan watched with intrigue as Lyall made his way to an ostentatious Valemteems-themed display at the back of the room. He grabbed one of the bouquets of roses, a set of heart-shaped balloons, and bundled some other tabletop pieces that Alan couldn't quite catch. Alan couldn't help but grin in amusement, watching him hastily raid the tables with purpose and intention.

Then Lyall returned just as quickly as he left. He set two unlit candles in the center, a glittery pink accent piece that spelled out "LOVE" in cursive, the weighted balloons by the digital questionnaire they were disregarding, and finally stood at Alan's side with the bouquet in hand.

"You look lovely this evening," he said, bowing slightly as he held out the flowers with his most charming smile.

It took everything in Alan's power to not suddenly burst out laughing from the brazen brashness of it all. It was almost too much.

Almost.

"Not as lovely as you," he said with a warm smile, taking a rose from the bouquet and then lifting it up to place the stem behind Lyall's ear. "I'm thrilled to have witnessed your grand entrance. I've never been happier."

Lyall snickered, but quickly recomposed himself as he replaced the little daisies in the table vase with the roses. And then tossed the yellow flowers over his shoulder as he sat down. He waggled his brows and lit the candles literally by hand, using his magic for the first time since their arrival on the island.

"Lyall, when you do that... I can't help but think that you're igniting the flame in my heart," Alan said softly, setting his hand against his chest as he looked longingly into Lyall's eyes.

"Anything," Lyall said, voice bordering sultry, "to stoke the flames of this passionate love we share."

Alan lingered his gaze on Lyall, but really, he just needed this moment to compose himself and not break character.

"I'm so glad we met. My life hasn't been the same since I've known you. I'm kept awake at night with thoughts of you, and my heart aches, especially since you are so far-- separated by a literal unmoveable wall. I'm so glad we can have this moment together now," Alan said, voice still soft and gentle.

"I can't stand the five-foot distance of the hall between you and I," Lyall agreed with great feeling, clutching a hand to his heart. "It makes this occasion that much sweeter, and to be treasured until the end of our days-- numbered to be approximately 84 now."

"And to think: we are just beginning. I'm so in love with not only the present moment I have with you, but also the infinite futures I can have with you. I'm overfilled with joy when I think about how many little Lyalls will fill our lives," Alan went on.

That put a crack in Lyall's composure. Turning away for a brief moment, he stifled a laugh behind his hand. Then he turned back, his voice dropping an octave lower. "Even the mere thought of making long, languid love to you nightly makes me swoon."

Alan had to take a moment to recompose himself again. Not laugh. Not melt. Commit.

Although, the slight blush that followed wasn't really part of the act, but it might as well be.

Alan slowly stood up to stand by Lyall's side, taking both his hands and looking at him longingly. Unable to hold back a smile now, Lyall raised both brows at him as he held his gaze.

"I can't take it anymore, Lyall. I can't keep holding back. If I were to give you my heart..."

Alan slowly got down on one knee, still holding his hands as if he were about to propose.

"Then will you give me yours?" he finished softly, keeping his gaze.

That was it. Lyall completely broke down laughing, ripping a hand away to cover his face.

"You dare laugh at my confession?" Alan said with a scoff, now throwing Lyall's free hand. His words were defensive, but now he felt like he could finally playfully grin. "That's it. We're over."

"Thank god!" Lyall managed between guffaws. "'Little Lyalls'?"

"Would you prefer I say Big Lyalls?" Alan said with a laugh as he slipped back into his seat.

Leaning his elbows on the table, Lyall buried his face entirely in both hands, still unable to collect himself. "Shit, no!"

Alan hummed, still grinning and pleased that he won this conpetition with non-existent stakes. "What about Little Alans, then?"

"No, no little anybody's!" Dropping both hands to the table now, Lyall still snickered and said, "I'll give you my damn heart if it'll make you stop already."

Alan's grin widened in victory. "You promise?"

Holding up a hand in surrender, Lyall grinned broadly as he crossed his heart with the other. "Promise."

James wasn't sure that he paid much attention during the buffet meal. It was brief. It felt like a fever dream. He somehow ended up at the very end of the line with the least amount of time to eat and the least amount of food options left over. He piled up a decent amount of food but had to inhale the last of it when they were called out to go back to their tables, preparing for the last round. Except, now that they were explaining the rules, James realized it wasn't really a round so much as a "Final Match."

He hated that they were using that term.

Each of them was ushered into a line outside of two small booths where they were to select their top pick. They were told that if their pick was mutual, they would get to meet for the last "round" and would each receive a prize. James thought that was a really weird way to incentivize getting together with someone (not that he thought this was a legitimate way of actually pursuing someone romantically), but he supposed they had to use anything at their disposal to motivate this group of otherwise unwilling participants to at least try.

While waiting in line, Tula found her place behind him, and James couldn't help but feel a creeping crawling sensation up his back. Turning around, Tula proceeded to engage him in the most unnervingly normal conversation ever.

Of course, she'd be "normal" in the presence of others. But something she managed to subtly slip in that James should "vote for whoever he wanted." No pressure, she said. Who cares about prizes, she said.

And yet, she still managed to flirt with him in a way that almost seemed sane - or would've seemed sane, if she hadn't shown him a completely different side of herself prior.

When James was finally in the booth, he ducked between the glittering red curtains, looking down at the pedestal holding their voting screen. The first question to pop up wasn't a question at all - instead, it was a scan of his face, determining who he was. After the light passed over his features, his name popped up on the screen, and a selection of names popped up on the screen.

"Choose one," it read, as if this were a multiple choice test.

- Alan Alvaro
- Tula Nazar
- Eve Lacroix
- Jay Mournsky

James's eye twitched.

Pick whoever he wanted. But whoever he picked would become a target of Tula. He knew it. And yet, he had a feeling Tula was going to intentionally not choose him. She probably already had another target in mind, and he didn't have any idea who that unfortunate soul would be.

Then again, it was possible that at this point she wouldn't be able to influence the votes, and she'd be just as much a victim to chance as he was.

This was too stressful. He was overthinking this. There was no winning, was there?

Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and shook his head.

Fine. Whatever. Fine. He'd just... pick something real.

Selecting "Eve Lacroix," he watched as the screen exploded in an obnoxious display of hearts, and he turned around, leaving and already feeling regret for something he didn't yet know.

It didn't take long for everyone to go through and make their choices, and they were all ushered back into the same speed-dating setup, but this time, all lined up in front of the stage where Mel stood in front of a large projector with a long wand. It had a heart on the end, and she waved it around almost like a baton over her head before she took her just-as-heart-shaped microphone to her lips.

"Now for the final results!" she sing-songed. "Let's see what couples are meant to be!"

As if they were watching end credits, a list of pairings began to scroll across the screen slowly.



"Looks like that's it for our mutual pairings! Oh, how lovely! It smells like love is in the air!" Mel said with a broad smile. "Now let's look at the results for those who didn't get picked. Looks like maybe people were a bit undecisive today!"

And then, much to everyone's horror, the screen revealed who everyone else chose.



Tula chose him, even after her whole shpiel. James had the urge to punch something again, but instead just stood stiffly as he watched everyone's eyes search the small crowd. The reactions were... split, to say the least.

Some people looked relieved. Those whose non-mutual choices had been exposed looked more dismally ashamed. Lyall and Alan looked conflicted - briefly high-fiving before deflating when they saw others had chosen them.

Well, mostly people had chosen Alan. A lot of people, actually.

This was probably horrifying for Shane, and James couldn't help but notice that Shane wasn't looking at anyone, his gaze instead darting around to examine random features in the room that he pretended to take an interest in. His face was a blank mask, as if he were trying to look indifferent or unbothered, but his shoulders had sank.

James felt bad for him. He'd hoped no one was taking this seriously, but even so there was still a level of embarassment that was unavoidable.

James tried to look at the other's reactions, but he quickly ended up locking eyes with Eve, who was standing to his left - formerly in his blind spot.

Ah. Right. They'd... both matched.

Time to make sure this didn't get awkward.

He flashed an admittedly shy smile. Eve sheepishly smiled back, but their attention was stolen when Mel spoke again, quieting everyone down.

"Matches! Follow me! We promised prizes, but you have one more teensy little step to go through!"

She led them back into the room with the voting booths, leading them over to the opposite end, under the light of dim lights and tables with candles.

"Phew! That's better, right? Now it's just us, in this romantic dim room, with only one camera," Mel said with a kidding laugh, but no one else laughed with her. "Anyways! You'll be taken back to your voting booths. Once you're scanned in, you'll be given a set of instructions. After that, you have one minute to respond. Don't over think it! Be clever, but go with your instincts!"

They were strangely ominous instructions - vague, yet somehow threatening. When James walked back into the voting booth, he looked down at the tablet once again, and a light scanned his face, beeping in recognition.

A holographic image then projected from the tablet, Maeve's face appearing with an excited but manufacturered grin and wave. She was glammed up and ready for the camera, going over her lines like she had said practiced this a hundred times before.

"Welcome! Congratulations for finding a mutual match!" she said through the hologram, her voice sounding a bit robotic due to the imperfect speakers. "I realize that it was a long, tiring day, so I want to reward you for your efforts. On the shelf behind you, you will find a liquid vial with your name on it. This is an enchanted drink, only revealing itself to you when the time is right. The vials were specifically created with you in mind, so please do not switch vials with anyone."

The imagine briefly turned to static, but then it returned to Maeve at a slightly different angle. It must have been two takes pieced together.

"On top of that, the DMV would like to generously gift you an item of your choice. This can be any tangible item, and I will be personally approving each one. Keep in mind, however, that you must be realistic. Items related to violence or hate, for instance, will not be allowed, and I will be modifying your request to be more appropriate. We care about everyone's well-being, after all! Please take one minute to decide which item to type down. If you don't pick one, I will randomly assign you an item."

Maeve smiled warmly again.

"Thank you again for participating and being an outstanding contestant! Good luck! Your timer starts now."

The hologram then turned off for a few seconds, leaving James alone in the dim light. But then it whirled up again, a timer counting down from one minute in a huge white font as if it were a Doomsday clock.

Staring at the empty textbox on the tablet, James found himself frozen for a moment.

He needed something unassuming. Something innocent. Something useful. Something they would actually give him, since he knew Oliver would be a part of the screening process with Maeve.

With no time to overthink, James picked something simple.

"Draw Erase Toy."

The timer stopped, but the text box landed on a loading screen. And he waited.

For more than a minute. Edging on two.

James wondered if the wait time for everyone was normal or if perhaps Maeve and Oliver were bickering behind the screen, debating whether this innocent toy request was worth granting. But then--



Well. He had a feeling it wasn't Oliver who accepted his request, but regardless, hopefully he'd actually get what he asked for. It would be useful, at least, even if it seemed a silly request. Hopefully no one would catch on what he intended to use it for.

James then turned to the shelf, looking at the potion with his name on it. Under his name, on the label, it read: "Potion will reveal itself with patience."

He didn't have high hopes in potions, nor in the Trieus' intentions, so he decided to pocket it away with a healthy amount of cynicism. He was under no illusions that they'd give him a helpful potion, and he was under no obligation to use it. But, he wasn't going to leave the gift where it was. He had a feeling they'd bring it to him anyway, even if he didn't want it.

That seemed to be everyone's strategy. To force things on him even when he didn't want it.

Brushing it off, he turned out of the booth, reentering the dimly lit room. Two staff members who were formerly serving at the buffet stood at the doors in matching butler-esque uniforms, waving everyone back out of the room with directions.

"Go back and find the table with your match," they kept saying. As if this whole event had been orchestrated by Cyupid.

As for those who hadn't found a mutual match... it looked like they were being sent home. God, James wished that was him. He watched longingly as they were finally set free, all fleeing towards the exit.

Shane was especially quick to exit, almost the first out the doors. James did, however, notice that Alexander very quickly snuck up on Hild, sliding up beside her.

It was... subtle. But odd.

Maybe it was nothing.

When he glanced at the others, he noticed Tula staring at him with a smirk and crossed arms, but that moment didn't last long since Stravos was immediately drawn to her, practically-- no, literally-- drooling over her, crawling towards her and bending his head down like he was about to kiss her feet. Tula put on a repulsed grimace and very quickly fled the scene.

James cringed. He couldn't help but feel bad for her.

Shaking his head, James briefly rubbed the bridge of his nose and turned his attention back to the tables - which looked like they'd already be rearranged in their brief absence. Now they were more spaced out, and the centerpieces were accompanied with candles and flower assortments.

James noticed that Eve had already found "their" table, hesitantly taking a seat as she inspected the bouquet of dandelions in front of her. James noticed that there was a boquet of daisies on the other side.

Approaching slowly, James briefly observed the reactions of everyone else. Some were more apprehensive than others, but it appeared that all of this was premeditated - perhaps way more than they first thought. It looked like everyone had been gifted their favorite flowers, and all of this was prepared beforehand, ready for just this moment. Maybe they had everything ready for anyone who'd won, but something about it all felt a little too right. Like somehow, Maeve saw all of this coming.

Sometimes he forgot that the Trieus were in their place of power because of their magic.

Clairvoyance was unnerving, and in the wrong hands, could be used for all of the wrong reasons. He supposed he was fortunate that, today, at least, it was only used to arrange flowers.

Still, he was unsettled.

James took a seat across from Eve, and within a few seconds of being seated, the background music started up again. He'd almost forgotten that it'd died down, but it came back louder, and the lights above them dimmed. The windows in the building dimmed as well, and blinds rolled down mechanically, leaving them in what anyone would probably now call "mood lighting."

Mel announced over the microphone that this was the last portion of the event. They were allotted a required thirty minutes before they could escape.

That wasn't the language she used, of course, but in her long, romantic spiel, that was what she meant. Or, that was how James interpreted it.

Eve did a bad job of biting back a groan, staring at the windows slowly being covered up to give them more privacy.

"This is degrading. It's like they dropped us off at a daycare playdate for adults," she said with annoyance.

"I feel a little like a doll, being played with by a ten year old," James said.

He gestured with his hands, as if he was holding imaginary dolls.

"You know. When kids are like 'now kiss,'" he said. "But they don't even understand what that is."

With her elbows on the table, Eve set her head in her hands, rubbing her face. "I wouldn't put Maeve past this. I'm sure she greatly enjoys watching us squirm under the guise of a generous, congratulatory dinner that we oh-so-deserve because we played her game," she moaned lowly through her hands.

James watched Eve carefully - at first, following, but slowly feeling the creeping suspicion that there was something Eve knew that he didn't. There was a level of familiarity in Eve's tone that seemed different from how someone would talk about the Director of the DMV. It was almost too informal, especially considering how Eve talked about anyone else she wasn't particularly close with.

"Do you..." he hesitated. "Know Maeve? Outside of this setting?"

At that question, Eve suddenly stopped rubbing her face, frozen. She slowly set her arms down, shaking her head with a small but forced smile.

"Well, she did introduce herself to us. Everyone knows her name. Her name is tacked on to the full Island Magic show name, after all," Eve said.

James stared at her for a moment. This seemed like a potentially touchy topic. Suddenly, Eve was more stiff - more than normal - and there was a clear shift in her language. She wasn't comfortable anymore.

James hesitated again.

"Right," he said quietly. "It's just... you seemed familiar, with her. To think this was 'just like her.'"

Eve spun her hand in front of her as if to say 'well of course, here are some examples.'

Which is what she went on to do.

"Well, it's not uncommon to say that about certain people. It's just like you to point out subtle facts and be observant, for instance. But I understand that you're not a total stranger to me. In that case, for someone I haven't talked to at all, for instance-- I don't know, let's say your cabin mate, Constantine, since he's a public figure-- I'd say it's 'just like him' to not say many words. Because that's not uncommon knowledge. You know. Because... public figure," she went on, talking more quickly.

James had a moment where he found himself wondering if Eve and Maeve knew each other in Vietance. It was a reach, considering plenty of people came from the same countries and never once met each other. But was it too much of a coincidence?

Eve seemed nervous.

Was she... being blackmailed too? No. That couldn't be it.

"Anyways, I was wondering about these flower choices," Eve said, jumping on the opportunity to change the subject when James didn't say anything right away. "Are daisies your favorite flower?"

"...Yeah," he said, looking down into his boquet.

He didn't even trust the boquet.

"Well, it's a good choice. They're common, but still pretty flowers nonetheless. They make for a good bouquet," Eve said.

James found himself struggling to keep conversation going. Quite literally only an hour ago, this had been nearly effortless. But now he had too many things to consider.

"You know, when I answered the hundred-question random survey about ourselves, I didn't think they'd, well, use any of it. I mean, they asked us what kitchen appliance we'd be. That was the first question. Surely that wasn't going to be used at all, right? So I hardly spent any time answering any of the other questions. At the 'what's your favorite flower' question, I went with the first thing that came to mind. Had I known it'd be turned to a bouquet, I'd have picked something else," Eve said quickly, continuing even though maybe only a second of silence had passed.

"Are dandelions not your favorite flower?" James asked.

Though, technically they were a weed. But that wasn't that important.

"No, they are. But they're not considered real flowers. Hence why they make awful bouquets," Eve said.

James grinned slightly.

"You could probably blow them all out before you get home, if the breeze doesn't take them first," he admitted.

Eve let out a soft hum. "That'd be a lot of wishes."

"Do you always make a wish before you blow on one?" he asked.

"Do you?" she asked instead.

"I guess I don't have much hope in dandelions hearing my wishes," he said weakly. "But I might've done it once. As a boy."

"Well, this is a daycare play date. Now's your chance to double your experiences," Eve said flatly.

With a small grin of amusement, James decided to reach over, briefly meeting her eyes to silently ask if it was okay to take one. Eve wordlessly took iniative and reached in her bouquet, pulling out out of the ribbon to hand to him stem-first. Gently taking the stem so as not to shake the dandelion prematurely, he carefully brought it up to his lips, and turned away so he was facing the floor. With one supported puff, he blew off all of the seeds, and they caught air for a few seconds before fluttering to the floor.

He wished for his family to stay safe. It felt silly, but it was the only wish he could think of that was meaningful.

Setting the seedless stem on the table, he looked over to Eve.

"Someone's going to have to vacuum that up later," he said.

"It's a shame they won't be escaping this room. Now my evil plan of populating this island of dandelions will never follow through," Eve said dryly and sarcastically.

"You have at least ten more opportunities to do so," James said, counting the dandelions in her boquet. "Correction. Twelve."

"Thank you. I'll use them wisely." She paused, now looking more relaxed with a small smile. "Did that feel nostalgic?"

"I guess so," he said.

His suspicions still weren't gone, but it was good to see that she was relaxing again, at least. He was always aware that they were on TV. This wasn't the right setting to ask pressing questions or to expose her. That was unkind, and would only give them what they wanted: drama that was needless and publicized.

"You got a potion, right?" he asked.

Eve nodded. "We all did, right? And an item request."

"Yeah," he said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out the vial. It had a flat bottom, so he pushed the daisies to the side and set it on the table, in Eve's view. "I've just never seen a potion quite like this before."

The liquid was a deep, dark black, swirling with specks of something shiny.

Eve mirrored his actions, taking out her potion from her tote and setting it in front of her well. Her vial was similar, but it was skinnier and taller. The lid also had a red circle on it, while James's had a singular black line. The liquid looked to be the same, and so were the instructions.

James hummed.

"Do you think they're the same?" he asked.

"I don't think so. The marks and vial bottles are different, which makes me think that they wanted to better differentiate between the potions. Plus, it was discouraged for us to trade. I think some kind of enchantment magic was placed on this so that we can't tell what it is until 'the right time' -- whatever that means," Eve said.

Discouraged, but not disallowed. Not that James in any way intended of giving his to anyone else. If it was cursed he wasn't going to give it to someone else.

"They like to keep things mystical, it seems," he observed, picking up his vial and tilting it in the candlelight.

"More like they want to keep us in the dark since they already know all the answers," Eve said.

"Does it ever make you feel like you have no control?" James asked, staring into the black liquid and the lights reflecting off the glass. "Like no matter what choices you make, it won't make a difference?"

Eve paused. "In that case, are you truly even given a choice?"

Putting his vial back in his pocket, he sighed softly.

"I guess you still are, even if people predict it," he said.

"But they know what choice you'll make. They're ten steps ahead. At that point, you're only a puppet, and you don't have control of the strings," Eve said, almost too defensively.

James could only wonder what was unsaid behind those words.

Eve had to know the Trieu's more than in passing.

"Are we still talking about Maeve?" he asked.

"I thought we were talking about the potion," Eve said cooly.

The shift in attitude was almost threatening. James had to tell himself not to push it. Lifting up his hands slightly in surrender, he bowed his head in submission.

"Ah. Sorry," he said. "I guess the best route would be not to take it, then. They gave us the potions, but never said we had to do anything with them."

"That part doesn't matter because they already know whether you'll take it or not," Eve said.

She was insisting that they were talking about the potions, but James knew who "they" were that she kept mentioning. Now, James really wasn't sure how to respond. He felt like he'd backed himself into a corner without meaning to. Somehow, he'd stepped on her toes without even trying. He'd been far from direct, but she'd already become defensive.

"Just... be careful," Eve went on during the short silence that passed. "That's all."

Okay. So this was definitely about the Trieus. "Be careful?" You didn't say that in casual conversation. Not with all of their previous context. This was a warning. Eve knew something that James didn't.

"You said it yourself. This isn't just an innocent vacation," she said in a more hushed voice.

"It's the DMV," he said quietly.

"I know." She paused. "They know everything. Everyone knows this. I'm just reminding you."

But why? Did Eve know there was a target on James's back? He supposed anyone might be able to guess that after the first day, but there was an urgency in her voice that felt personal.

"Much appreciated," he said.

But good grief, they had another twenty minutes to fill.

"What are your plans after the time is up, anyways?" Eve suddenly asked. Apparently they shared the same thought. They had to move past this if they wanted to not spend the remainder of their forced "play date" in uncomfortable silence.

James glanced across the room at the clock on the wall, forgetting that he couldn't really read it from here. Of course they put him at the furthest table. Contacts were good for nothing (he needed a new prescription).

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe go on a walk. Or a run. Or bury myself in the sand and dig my way back to Nye."

He shrugged.

"You?"

"What do you think about going on a walk with me?" Eve asked, then paused as she gestured to the dandelions. "To plant these."

James had to admit he did not expect the extension of an invitation after he thought he'd kind of crashed and burned with the Trieu questions. Maybe it was just the setting. This sounded like an invitation to go somewhere more... private.

He hummed.

"Sure," he said with a small smile.

"I think I know a path. It's a little dark, but it could use more dandelions, I think," she said.

Ah. So she did want privacy. Understood.

"Dandelions are known to be one of the more resilient plants," James said, a little softer. "If they can grow in the smallest crack in a sidewalk, I'm sure they'll do fine without as much light."

Eve nodded. "I'm glad you can understand why they're my favorite flower."

James smiled a little wider. That seemed to help Eve smile and loosen up as well, and the next twenty minutes passed with ease.