"Triana, when you said your friend had possibly difficult hair, I didn't expect it to melt my brush." Tintalus (no last name) gestured to Battlemaid sitting in one of his seats. "I had to weave tools from mana itself."

"TT, you know that's why I brought her to you." Making her way over to her extravagant, elven friend, Triana gave him the requisite hug that was simply part of spending time with him. "I'm sorry if you ruined some brushes."

"Pfft!" Tintalus gestured at the pile of ruined hair-care equipment. "If it wasn't up to the task, then clearly it was the tools that were inferior. Now that I have mastered the art of styling with my mana alone, I have no need to trifle with such things. No, I must thank you both for forcing me to face the grim reality of this world—there is always a bigger challenge. Either move to embrace it or fall by the wayside."

It occurred to Triana that this level of theatrics, on a slightly muted scale, was exactly what she liked about Stanton. She turned her attention to Battlemaid, though, who still had a large magical device covering most of her head, whirring away to dry her hair. "Can I see what you did?"

"Of course, once she's done. Even with all the power in the world, Triana, I cannot perform my divine arts in an instant. The results of my work take time, you know that. This stunning beauty had hair unlike any I have dealt with before, and thus I had to undertake drastic and expansive measures to ensure the end result would be as she desired." Walking to where Battlemaid sat under the ministrations of some sort of magic heat-expelling machine, Tintalus smirked when the device let out a soft chirp as it powered down.

Letting loose a little gasp of surprise as the machine lifted free of her head, Battlemaid was looking in the mirror and, thus, was witness to the bounty of her hair that had taken on a new life.

"Speechless? That's not uncommon." Walking around Battlemaid, Tintalus used the finest mana brush he could fashion to check the bounce on the girl's hair. It was perfect, of course, and so he looked over at Triana. "It's been some time since I've had you in my chair."

"TT, I'm a werewolf, and an enforcer for my family. My hairdos last until I need to put down some mutt who doesn't know how to behave." Triana had to admire the work done. She loved the body and size added to Battlemaid's hair and could already see what jewelry would highlight her. "But, I promise, when this all works out and I'm the one having the big wedding, you'll be doing my hair."

Purring like a cat, Tintalus reached out and held Triana's chin with his fingers. Turning her head side to side, he nodded. "Yes, this is acceptable. Give me a date and I will ensure even the emperor is jealous of whomever you marry."

"Not who, when. Stanton Raveel-Sharptooth, and I'll be taking his last name and giving him Eyesbright within a year. Mark my words."

The intensity in Triana's words and features made Tintalus take a little step back before he licked his finger and held it out toward her—making a tsssss sound. "So much fire and passion! I love it!"

"How did you do this to Ba—Billi's hair?" Reaching one hand up, Battlemaid touched the springy waves atop her head. It reminded her a little of Lorissa's, though Lorissa's hair wasn't heat-conductive or fire-resistant.

"I did it with the power of passion and the vision of an artist!" Drawing a hand-held mirror from an appropriate pocket that was too small to hold it, Tintalus began moving it around the sides and back of Battlemaid's head, showing off the look to its new owner.

Despite all the strangeness, Battlemaid couldn't withhold her smile. She knew that Triana was doing this for her and, even if Battlemaid had no idea why, she wanted to pay that appreciation back. "H-How much did it cost?"

"Tsk. This is not the place to talk of money. Serving you has given me the drive to attempt more daring hairstyles than ever before! There was a hollow feeling in my life—that I filled with normal people and normal hair. No more! From now on I will only serve gorgons, dragonesses, and beauties such as yourself." Taking Battlemaid's hand, Tintalus brought it to his lips and pressed them gently against the pale knuckles.

"T.T., you're going to ruin her for her date tonight. Come on, Billi, we still have to see someone else before we can go back and get your dress." Knowing too well how easy it was for a young woman to get ensnared by the elven stylist-wizard's ways, Triana took Battlemaid's other hand and tugged—expending some of her werewolf strength to pluck her neatly from Tintalus' grip.

"Just tell me one thing," releasing his grip on Battlemaid, Tintalus almost wept at the loss of his new inspiration, "who must I be envious of that would get to spend an evening with this angel?"

"That would be my future husband." Triana used Tintalus' shock to whisk Battlemaid out of the salon and back into the street. "That was close. If he had decided to change your hair, it could have been another hour with him—and then there would have been no guarantee that he wouldn't want yet another hour to change his mind again. You look great, Battlemaid; amazing."

"Is the arrangement we made not common? Mister Tintalus seemed surprised," Battlemaid said.

"Sometimes, after years of establishing a relationship, either party might seek to bring in others to fulfill duties that are otherwise neglected. Arranging that in advance is less common. I am far too practical, or so my mother told me, to believe that Stanton would find everything he needs in a wife who's a werewolf. He is a mage as well as a wolf—he will have other requirements." It wasn't completely open, but that was part of politics, and she knew Stanton would know the rest of it: knowing who her husband's mistresses were, and being able to trust them, was the greatest ideal. "Also, having such an expert maid in the house will be a great boon."

Battlemaid blushed, her internal temperature rising—and it confused her. Every time before, when she'd overheated, it was due to being in the close proximity of her master. Examining the sensation, and what she'd been paying attention to, she had only one source—Triana's praise. "If—If you and Master were to marry, I would serve you as I do him."

"I figured as much. It's partly why I wanted to do all this for you. To show you that I will care for you." Pulling Battlemaid into a hug, Triana felt her tense for a moment, then relax. "But it means a lot to hear it from you."

The warmth in Battlemaid's circuits wasn't overwhelming. She gave a return squeeze that was exactly the same level of crushing force as Triana's, hoping that the werewolf could take as well as she could give.

"Now, I know you can alter your skin how you please, so makeup isn't required, but some stylish accessories will be in order. Come on, I've got just the things, so we just need to see Courtney and wait for her to finish your dress."

----------------------------------------

Jumping up from the stool she'd been sitting on, Battlemaid turned around—her dress spreading out in a swirl—and stared at Stanton. Her hydraulic system's pumps misfired several times.

Eyes wide, Stanton couldn't believe what he was seeing. Battlemaid seemed to have dropped the second half of her name and possibly the first, too. The outfit of ocean blue had skirts upon skirts, all stacked together to create a perfect gown that traced her form up to her shoulders, where slim and pale arms came down to a pair of opera gloves in a pearly white that made her skin shine a little more.

The dress, of course, led past some surprising cleavage to the face of the robot girl. Framed by light blue hair in the most up-to-date styling and decorated with a smattering of ocean-themed jewelry, he wasn't even aware of holding his breath until he let it out in a gasp. "You're gorgeous."

Battlemaid had to clamp down hard on her heat output. The dress she was in, she calculated, would not survive well past sixty centigrade. Her normal outfit was rated far higher, and her chassis yet more, so she had promised Courtney Eyesbright to avoid excessive energy values.

When she looked down, past Stanton's piercing eyes, Battlemaid could see that he was wearing something she'd not seen him in before. It was an entirely new outfit especially for their date. She engaged her cooling spell to bring her circuits closer to room temperature. "You look b-beautiful, too."

Stanton had to suppress a giggle at being called beautiful. "Are you ready to go?" Battlemaid's eyes were sparkling almost as bright as the gems in her jewelry, and they captivated Stanton with little effort on her part, or so it seemed to him.

"Y-Yes!" The weight she settled against him, as he wrapped his arm around her, seemed to be acceptable to Stanton. Battlemaid was never surprised at how strong, fast, or accomplished with magic her master was. Cozy in his embrace, and trying to calm her overheating circuits, Battlemaid was whisked out into the late afternoon and along the street.

"Did you dye your hair and skin?" Stanton asked. "I've never seen you so pale before."

Having spent most of the day struggling to keep her Billi persona in place, Battlemaid slipped into it once more. "I-I-I'm not pale. Miss Courtney told me I should pick colors I wanted. My skin is patterned to be reactive to ultraviolet light."

". . ." Realizing he was in the deep end without anything to grip to, Stanton gave Battlemaid his most beseeching look.

It took Battlemaid a moment to realize Stanton wanted more details to understand the topic. "Light comes in frequencies. Light that most people see seems to be between four hundred tera-cycles and seven hundred and fifty tera-cycles. I'd need to do more testing to be sure exactly. My skin patterns are designed to be visible at around nine hundred tera-cycles." She waited to see the dawning realization on Stanton's face, but when it didn't appear, she knew she needed to go further. "This light is tuned for that frequency."

When Battlemaid slipped off one of her gloves and produced a dark purple light from her wrist, Stanton stared at her exposed skin. There were lines and swirls, all highlighted in that strange illumination. His jaw dropped open and he had to try his hardest not to stare at her chest, where all the patterns seemed most intense. "That's amazing. This isn't magic."

"This is science and engineering." Giggling at Stanton's finger tracing the pattern on her upper arm, Battlemaid realized how much fun it was to be with him and not have to worry about her thermals constantly. "That spell you implanted in me is working well."

"The cooling one? I'm glad to hear it." Dragging himself away from studying the patterns, Stanton pointed down the street a little further. "The restaurant is just a bit further."

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Folding away her torch and pulling her glove back on, Battlemaid let Stanton lead the way while she hung off his arm. He whisked them both into the restaurant and, with it completely empty of customers except for themselves, they were seated and gazing into each other's in no time.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Stanton asked.

Caught gazing into his eyes, Battlemaid tried to calm herself. "A drink? Oh. Yes. A drink. Anything that has a high ethanol content will do." At Stanton's unsure look, she clarified, "Alcohol is a good energy source."

"Ah. Something flammable, then." Looking at the nearest waiter, Stanton got a nod from them that let him know they'd heard and would fetch what was needed.

"What do you see?" Triana asked, just outside the window of the restaurant.

Beside Triana, Lorissa was watching the pair inside as they talked. "They're the only ones in there. Did he book the whole place out?"

"Either that or his family owns it. Are they doing anything else? Have they kissed? What are they talking about?"

"I can't hear. Wait, if I transform I'll be able to." Just as Lorissa started to do her change, Triana grabbed and pulled her back from the window.

"For a stealthy feline, you make a lot of bright light when you shapechange. Maybe go into an alleyway?"

Inside, Stanton caught the flash of light from an alleyway across the street, and then saw Kat stride out in full attire, only for her to freeze like a deer facing a hunter. Wincing at the sight, Stanton was relieved to see Battlemaid had her back to the window. "This wine is wonderful. Would you like to try a little?"

Glancing to her wine glass filled with a fine whiskey, Battlemaid nodded and reached out her hand for the drink. The smell was the first thing that surprised her. The cooking wine she'd used to prepare meals had been far lower quality, and thus this was a much richer grape scent that included some spices that she was sure had to come from the barrel it was aged in and not the grapes themselves. "It smells nice."

"It tastes even better." Trying not to glare out the window, where he saw two faces now peering in, Stanton ignored Triana and Lorissa and kept his focus on Battlemaid.

Testing that hypothesis, Battlemaid perked up. It diluted the excellent fuel she'd already consumed, but her taste receptors were lighting up with a series of patterns that her database assured her were excellent. "That is nice."

Smiling, Stanton reached out when Battlemaid offered him the glass back and had another sip of it himself. "I'm glad we can agree on that. I should start stocking this at home. Cass has a terrible palate for wine, and I think Lore would drink absolutely anything I told her had alcohol in it. Haven't really tried drinking with Triana before. We were way too young to drink the last time I was with her."

The moment he said it, Stanton face-palmed. "Sorry. I shouldn't talk about them. Tonight is your night." Reaching over, he claimed Battlemaid's right hand and kissed the back of it.

In a moment of sanity, Battlemaid enabled her advanced cooling system to halt the inevitable rush of heat to her circuits. It came, of course, but wasn't as strong as normal. With fine control of that magic, she backed off her internal temperature to something far more tolerable to life. "I-It's okay. Really. We all landed in your life and— I'm very grateful you take care of us all."

Battlemaid straightened up a little as one of the waiters approached. They were quiet as they set out appetizers, and equally silent as they glided away again. When she looked down at her plate, Battlemaid examined the five little stacks of food on the plate. Each seemed to be a different kind of meat at the bottom, and atop each was a sauce, some kind of fruit, and a little dot of what was some kind of spice compound, or so her optical sensors told her.

"Everything here is delicious," Stanton said, trying to catch the two watchers outside, but noticing they were missing.

Meanwhile, outside, Lorissa and Triana stood opposite Elspeth. Of them, only Lorissa was shapechanged, but there was the threat of violence in the air that comes when two large werewolves are itching to ruin their clothes and fight.

"Nya, we won't let you interrupt their date, Elspeth," Lorissa said, her hand on her wand hilt—Swiftpaw already having affixed himself as the blade.

"Ugh. Cats are always so dramatic." Rolling her eyes, Elspeth nonetheless didn't quite break eye contact with Triana. "I just came here to check out the competition. That's allowed by Lady Sharptooth-Raveel-Brightfang, remember?"

"Then why were you going for the front door?" Triana asked.

On the verge of shapeshifting and attacking, Elspeth had to calm herself. Despite her new, empathy-free state, she could see that Triana would stop her if she tried to interrupt the date. "It'd be easier to watch them from inside, but since you two losers are watching from out here, I might as well do the same."

Relieved that it didn't seem set to become a bloody fight, Lorissa slowly took her hand off her wand and started to slink back over to the window. The first thing she noticed was Stanton, appearing as if he had watched a munition dump fire peter-out and self-extinguish. The second was his frowning to the side a moment later. When she looked, it was Elspeth at the opposite end of the window looking in.

"They're watching from outside?" Battlemaid asked Stanton. At his worried nod, she relaxed a little. "My sensors alerted me to motion."

"They're actually doing a good job of stopping interruptions. Elspeth arrived, and tried to come inside. They stopped her. Now they're all looking at us and talking. I can't read Lorissa's lips, but Triana is asking her what we're saying. I don't think she can hear us."

Tilting her head to the side, Battlemaid pondered the situation while she processed the last appetizer on her plate. "Can you hear this?"

"That ringing?" Stanton asked, definitely noticing a high-pitched sound.

"What about now?"

"Not now. What is that?"

"Ultrasonic noise. Tell me how Lorissa reacts." Increasing her amplitude, Battlemaid heard the screech from outside and giggled in response. "She noticed that?"

Stanton started laughing, but doing his best not to get too worked up. "You bet she did. Shouted and ran to the other side of the street. Triana and Elspeth didn't seem to hear it." This playfulness was a new side of Battlemaid that Stanton hadn't seen before and, he had to admit, it was nice to see. "The others can probably hear better than human too, but that's also an issue for me."

Processing that information, Battlemaid nodded and decided she would test such things later, for science. "I wonder if I could produce a sound that only annoys the dragon?"

"That would be cool, but I don't want us getting caught up in all that stuff tonight. This is your special night, even if I'm the one feeling super lucky right now."

Outside, Lorissa was still recovering from the shout she and she alone had heard. "What was—?" She froze and snapped her mouth closed when she noticed Cassandra walking toward the restaurant. "Damn. I can't walk out there as Kat, nya." It took her a moment longer to realize she now thought of that as her actual name; at least when she was in her cat form.

Spotting Cassandra too, Elspeth let out a groan. "Ugh. What are you doing here? You haven't got anything riding on this at all."

"What do you mean? Stanton's my friend." It was easy for Cassandra to get annoyed at Elspeth. After the way she'd acted at the cooking contest, a negative opinion had been simmering away. Triana, on the other hand, she had seen stand up for Stanton—which put her marginally higher in Cassandra's books than other nobles. "If you're trying to do something to him that he doesn't want, I'll—"

"You'll what? Zap me with your magic? Hate to say it, but if you do that, I'll beat you down before you finish a spell and then go to the city guard to tell them you attacked me." Giving Cassandra her best shitty grin, Elspeth added, "I was so scared, officer, that I couldn't help but shapechange. You have to keep her away from me!"

Keeping control of her form only by force of will, Cassandra walked up to Elspeth, raised her hand, and brought it forward.

Starting to roll her eyes, Elspeth reached out to grab Cassandra's wrist. Neither Cassandra's apparent heritages (human or elven) led Elspeth to expect she'd have any trouble stopping the slap—so when her own hand was driven back and a palm connected with her cheek, she was figuratively and also literally stunned.

"Don't you ever threaten me or my position at this school again. For that matter, keep away from Stanton too. I don't care about your stupid noble games—I'll hunt you down and put you down if you hurt any of my friends." For the first time since becoming a dragon, Cassandra felt a cold chill along with her anger. It was an empowering sensation as it left her mind clear and her body under her own control.

All Triana did was raise an eyebrow. She knew exactly how much strength Elspeth had, both as a wolf and in her human form, and she particularly liked seeing her personal rival discombobulated in such a manner.

Staring at Cassandra, Elspeth felt the kind of fear born in the unknown. The slap had been casual, and while her current strength wasn't her full power, she had no idea of Cassandra's heritage or where her ability to shrug off such a strike came from; two facts she now needed to find out. The word was both easy to say and hard, at the same time, "Sorry."

Keeping her draconic instincts suppressed, Cassandra took a step back. "Don't let me hear you threatening anyone ever again; noble or commoner." The control was giving Cassandra so much confidence that she glanced to the window to peer in at a surprised-looking Stanton, Winked at him, and turned to walk off. "Don't let that bitch screw up this date," she said to Triana.

"Yes, ma'am." Triana did her best to keep any hint of sarcasm from her voice, even if she was deeply curious to find out how strong Cassandra was.

Stanton was more than a little surprised at the interaction. He'd thought Cassandra would stop and ogle the two of them too, but she'd done something he didn't think was possible for a non-werewolf—physically put a werewolf down. He had to shake his head to clear the image of her doing it. "Ahem, sorry." Waving a hand toward a waiter, Stanton asked them, "Could you please put up a privacy screen? I believe some friends are, well-meaning as they may be, causing a scene."

In moments a wood-paneled divider was brought out and put between them and the window.

"I should have done that at the start, but I was worried they would just come inside then. I think Cass gave them all a good talking to." Turning his attention to the retreating waitstaff, he said, "We're ready for our next course."

The meal continued and they chatted. Stanton was having the time of his life letting Battlemaid lead the conversation. When she got technical, he did his best to follow, and if her descriptions became too thick with jargon, he asked her to explain it in simpler terms. He felt a little dense at times, but it gave him great insight into how well she understood the world.

"Seems like everything is either vibrations or some kind of force," Stanton managed to summarize. "Light, sound, and electricity are all waves, though you said light is a force as well, and then there— Wait, I messed up?"

Battlemaid nodded her head and let out a little giggle. "Electricity is a force but not a wave. Though certain types of power distribution have relied on waves to ensure minimum energy is lost, that isn't a fundamental property of it."

With their main course finished, Stanton reached out and picked up Battlemaid's hand, turning it and kissing the knuckles gently. "You make me feel like the stupidest person in the room, and it's great."

"You're not stupid. No one else understands or wants even half of this detail. They are perfectly content with metaphors and broad simplifications. You might not understand all of it, but you try, and the more you try the better you'll get at understanding… everything!" Battlemaid pulled her hand back and balled up both fists on her hips.

Lifting his eyes from where Battlemaid's hand had been, Stanton wanted to reach out and boop this amazing, intelligent woman on the nose, but her slight scowl warned him it might result in some kind of explosion. "Then we must set aside a day for enlightenment. Right now, all these concepts are intrusions on the atmosphere and lovely company. For them to properly sink in, I need to be able to focus on more than a gorgeous lady in a pretty dress."

It took every ounce of the special cooling spell to stop Battlemaid from incinerating the dress, the table, Stanton, and a quarter of the city. She stared at him with a feeling of stunned amazement for nearly twenty seconds before her processing systems had chilled enough that she could process I/O again. The only problem was she still couldn't put words together.

Not caring if it would eat up one of his days off, Stanton was firmly committed to learning what Battlemaid could teach him. He would be the first to admit he knew little of metallurgy, but with his magic he could make many materials that even the finest blacksmith could not. At the same time, he was absolutely sure the reverse was true. "Are you ready for dessert?"

Nodding her head, the motion of her servos much easier to script than a line of dialogue, Battlemaid nonetheless managed an, "Mmhmm!"

Stanton was pleased that the waitstaff needed no further prompting. In the back of his mind he was already writing a report on their behavior and recommending to his cousin (on his father's side) that they all be given high praise for their performance. When their desserts were brought out, a rich coffee along with some ice cream and a banana foam, Stanton purposefully made eye-contact with the waitress setting his down, and nodded. "Thank you."

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This story is released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. If you are paying money to see this or the original creator, Damaged, is not credited, you are viewing a plagiarized copy of the story.