The rest of the meal passed in relative silence. Apparently, once the conversation "progressed" to the point where one party wanted to look at their phone, there was no going back.

Amber had received a text - Danny was sure of it. And he was equally confident that she'd responded to it, judging by the way her fingers had danced around her phone's keyboard.

Finally, Danny suspected that Amber didn't want him to see what she was texting the other person. This was evidenced by the fact that whenever Danny looked away from his lasagna even for a moment, she would hide her phone's screen from his eyes. And Amber wasn't even subtle about this.

She must have something to hide. Maybe she's dating someone else?

Danny couldn't allow himself to feel any betrayal over this. After all, he and Amber were not a couple - not remotely. They were just two people who'd been brought together by the madness of circumstance; he didn't believe in fate.

Both of them finished their meals eventually; the waiter came over and asked if they wanted dessert.

"I think we're good," Amber said softly, glancing quickly at Danny, who nodded as well.

"Very well," the waiter responded. "I'll come back with the check in a minute."

Once the waiter was gone, Amber assured Danny that she would pay the tab, and would also take care of the tip. Her words were kind, but the way she delivered them sounded…distant.

Well, that's easy to explain. She doesn't want to form any bonds with me if she doesn't have to, since we'll go our separate ways pretty soon.

Amber sighed. "Let's head back to my apartment, Danny."

It was getting more crowded on the street now, if that were even possible; now was clearly a very popular time to explore the North End. The line outside Mike's Pastry extended for half the length of the block; even if Danny had possessed a sudden sweet tooth, he would not have been willing to wait in said line.

When the pair returned to Amber's apartment complex, it was still light out. That being said, Danny harbored no desire to spend any more time outside; neither, apparently, did Amber. They entered her pristine apartment, whose wall-to-wall carpeting looked as though it had never seen a stain in the history of the world.

"You must be really smart, Amber," Danny mouthed.

"I'd like to think so," Amber responded softly, not making eye contact with him. "But being book-smart isn't everything, you know?"

"I know. It's just…if Harvard was willing to give you a full scholarship for Chemistry, and enough to rent this amazing apartment, you were probably a child prodigy."

Amber did not respond, so Danny took that as his cue to continue.

"I mean, you've got competition from all over the world. So many countries have people who might want to go to Harvard, but only a precious few get in. Unless you were a legacy admission…".

"I wasn't. Didn't I say my parents were poor?"

"Right, my bad," Danny continued. "The point is…".

"The point is," Amber snapped, "that I don't want to talk about it, okay? I suggest a book on self-consciousness; it will be helpful for you in the future."

"Uh, okay" Danny mumbled. So much for cordiality.

The two of them looked at one another for a few seconds, but Danny, surprisingly, won the staring contest.

Amber sighed. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I really shouldn't have…".

"Don't worry about it."

"I just…felt like you were trying to butter me up before you dropped some bad news. They say lots of guys are like that. They give you excessive compliments and then start treating you like shit as soon as you're under their thumb."

Danny frowned. "I'm not one of them," he said quietly. "You know that, right?"

"Do I? I'd argue that I don't know you very well at all, and you're already flattering me with compliments like you were probably a child prodigy and all that. Like, there's a certain point where it becomes excessive. It can make people uncomfortable with you."

Danny nodded to show that he understood. In the back of his mind, however, it made little sense that Amber would adopt this reticent demeanor after they'd poured their hearts out to one another a few short hours ago.

Oh my Arceus, this is awkward beyond belief.

For whatever reason, the pair ended up sitting on the couch together. Neither bothered turning on the TV - after all, nobody watched cable shows anymore, and streaming was the promised land. Even the news would just stress both of them out.

Danny then made the mistake of looking out the window, from which there was a sunset view of the harbor. Several recovery boats aimed at finding bodies of the aquarium collapse's victims were still there, prepared with body bags for the deceased.

"I was there, you know," Danny said. "That's how I injured my leg - I was right next to the tank when it exploded. And there was a Gyarados in there."

Amber spoke softly as she responded.

"I can't imagine what that must have been like. I'm sure it's frightening to be in such a scene of panic."

"Thanks," Danny replied. "But honestly, it wasn't much worse than today. If anything, today was scarier, because I was just so confused. I didn't know who I could trust."

"Well, it's behind you," Amber pointed out. "And you trust me, don't you?"

"Yes," Danny told her. "If I can't trust you, I'm not sure I can trust anyone. You could have just let me drown."

In reality, Danny wasn't sure how much he bought that narrative. Yes, if Amber had wanted him dead, he would be. But there might be any number of reasons why he wasn't dead yet. And there were other negative outcomes besides losing his life - prison might even be on the table if Clint truly worked for law enforcement.

But he didn't voice this to Amber. Did it really matter? Quite frankly, if Clint had gone to the Commonwealth about having seen the pair jet-ski off together toward the North End, he was a sitting Golduck. So was Amber.

Unless she's working with them too.

"Well, Danny," Amber said after a while, "this is awkward, isn't it?"

"My thoughts exactly" he blurted out.

"Let's play a game. An icebreaker, if you will. It's called two truths and a lie. You know how to play it, right?"

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"It's pretty self-explanatory," Danny mumbled. And it was indeed; he'd played it at the Sacred Heart Institute during some of their social-thinking lessons. Perhaps it was cheesy, but it did the job.

"I thought so. It's a good way to get to know each other."

"Right."

"I'll go first," Amber stated. "My favorite color is yellow, my favorite flag is the Swedish one, and my favorite Pokémon is Braixen. One of those is a lie."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Amber, this isn't middle school."

"Your point being? Danny, we're playing an icebreaker right now."

Danny wouldn't dare tell Amber the real reason he objected to those choices. They were all completely inconsequential to who Amber was, just a list of her favorite things. Nothing that would help him figure out whether or not he could trust her.

Then again, maybe that's the goal. Maybe she wants me to trust her for some reason even though I really shouldn't.

"Well?" she continued. "Guess!"

"I think the third one is a lie," Danny replied. "I don't think Braixen is your favorite Pokémon."

"Well, you're wrong," Amber told him. "Part of me wonders if I was a Braixen in a past life or something. That species is supposed to be great at magic, and Chemistry is almost like magic sometimes. Except that it's real, of course."

"Huh" Danny muttered. "Well, you sure seem to be a natural at it. I'm guessing your favorite color isn't yellow?"

Amber shook her head. "My favorite flag isn't the one of Sweden."

"That's surprising. Sweden sounded like such a specific country to name-drop, so I figured that must not be the lie. What is your favorite flag?"

"Ukraine," she said softly. "And it's got nothing to do with what's going on there right now. I just love the symbolism. Before the war, Ukraine was the world's breadbasket, and the flag's design looks exactly like an amber field of grain beneath the summer sky."

"That's wholesome," Danny mouthed. "You must be an expert."

"I read sometimes, I guess" Amber replied with a wistful chuckle. "I hope peace comes to that country soon. Anyway, it's your turn. What are your two truths and a lie?"

"Hmmmm."

Truth be told (no pun intended), Danny had a hard time thinking of things that Amber didn't already know to be true or false and that weren't excessively personal. He struggled mightily in this effort, and it was only a minute later when Amber sighed.

"Maybe you're not comfortable giving two facts about yourself?" she suggested.

"Maybe I'm not," he muttered.

"Well, that's okay. Maybe you can just talk about your favorite things, like I did."

But something about Amber's demeanor made her sound almost withdrawn, as though she'd checked out of this conversation long ago from an emotional standpoint and couldn't be bothered to care what Danny said next.

Instead, Danny yawned. "I should probably head to bed," he mouthed.

Amber frowned. "It's not even 8 PM yet. Eight was my bedtime as a child, but when you're a Chemistry major at one of America's most elite universities, you get used to pulling all-nighters, you know?"

"I can't relate."

"Well, there's a bed right there with your name on it. I regret that I don't have any spare clothes for you - are you okay sleeping in what you have?"

"I guess I gotta be," Danny replied. "It's no big deal, really."

In reality, Danny wasn't sure he felt this way. Somehow, he didn't think it was healthy to keep wearing damp clothes so many hours after he'd swam through Boston Harbor in them. But if Amber didn't have spare clothes, she didn't have them, and there was no use fantasizing otherwise.

So Danny dried off as best he could and climbed into the king bed. The sheets were far cleaner than those of the bed in his Dorchester apartment, and the mattress was softer too. Therefore, you'd be forgiven for thinking that Danny slept easily in it.

That was not the case. Although he was now encased in a very comfortable blanket, Danny kept tossing and turning from side to side, rolling over like a dog. But sleep was elusive, and every time he closed his eyes he visualized that Crawdaunt who'd attacked him in his apartment just yesterday.

For all I know, an intruder might come in here and devour me while I'm asleep. If I close my eyes, I might not wake up.

Still, he did in fact need sleep, so Danny eventually drifted off. His dreams could only be described as mayhem.

Scene: Danny was standing in front of his landlord, arguing with Mr. Bitshoot about the trash can in his apartment.

"You need to take care of it, Danny!" Mr. Bitshoot bellowed. "Not only does it smell horrendous, but it's going to attract flies, which are hazardous to your health!"

"I'll get to it later!" Danny insisted. "I'm not going to live in a pigsty, trust me."

"Actions speak louder than words, Mr. Sham. If you don't back those actions up, your promise is a sham, just like your last name."

"Clever" Danny muttered sarcastically.

But then Mr. Bitshoot's head turned 180 degrees around atop his neck, and his thinning hair could be seen instead of his face. The hair then vanished, to be replaced by a different face - a bald one with a thin white beard!

"Clint Cargile!" Danny exclaimed. "What are you doing here, you little traitor?"

"I could say the same of you, Danny Sham. How could someone as wicked as you keep walking around free? Quite frankly, you should be behind bars!"

"I could say the same of you" Danny echoed. "You've worked for the Lobster Mobsters in the past, and somehow the government trusts you. Isn't that a pretty damning indictment of our government, that they tolerate criminals like you?"

"Well, now that I don't work for the Lobster Mobsters anymore, it's my job to bring criminals to justice. Criminals like you. I need to undo the damage I've caused."

Clint reached out for Danny's wrist, clamping down on it like one half of a pair of handcuffs. Before Danny could struggle against the older man's surprisingly strong grip, the scene changed.

Now Danny sat in a boardroom in front of a Crawdaunt. This lobster-like creature was smoking a cigar and wearing a black bowler hat. Despite the comical grin on his face, he seemed to be the leader of the bunch.

"Welcome to our lair, Danny Sham" the Crawdaunt sneered.

Danny's heart quickened to the pace of someone running the 200-meter dash. He gulped as the Crawdaunt continued speaking.

"You don't know who I am, but that's about to change. My name is Patrick Lawrence, and I'm the head of the Lobster Mobsters. Would you like to hear our motto?"

"No thanks" Danny muttered.

"Fair enough. I'll respect that" Patrick stated. "So Mr. Sham, why'd your team lose?"

Danny narrowed his eyes. "Who are you, number 45?"

"On the contrary, Danny, I am number one at this organization. Everyone here looks up to me. We struggle for disorder, and we like what we do!"

Patrick then took a puff of his cigar. Danny would have mentioned that it was very dangerous to smoke indoors (or in general), but he didn't have the nerve necessary to talk himself into it.

"Now, Danny, you've spent the last few years running from the truth. Are you going to embrace it, or are you going to continue your so-called life as a sniveling coward?"

Danny grimaced, narrowing his eyes. "I am not a coward!" he bellowed. "And you know that!"

"Well, you could've fooled me, but that's beside the point. Look, Danny, I want to know why your team lost, by which I mean where your morals lost their way. Should you have been more pious at the Sacred Heart Institute, for instance?"

"I never believed in that stuff," Danny snapped. "So how could I have been pious? Besides, in terms of morals, you're one to talk!"

Patrick grinned. "Well, you know what they say" he sneered. "I'm going to kill a man in Boston just to watch him die. And do you know who that man is?"

Danny didn't need to let his imagination run wild in order to figure that out. Judging by the Crawdaunt's manner of speaking, the answer could not have been more obvious.

"But I'm not going to do it myself," Patrick continued. "Instead, a pretty little liar is going to do it for me. I have to hope she's telling the truth this time."

"I don't understand," Danny mouthed, before realizing that he did understand. If Patrick were telling the truth (which, admittedly, was a sizable if), Danny was in even more danger than he'd imagined.

"Dying in a dream is possible in the world you came from, Danny Sham" Patrick muttered. "It's my world as well."

"What are you talking about?" Danny replied with as much bravado as he could muster (which wasn't much).

"Well, you'll be awake for what comes next" the Crawdaunt told him. "It's more fun that way, isn't it?"

At that moment, Danny felt sure he was about to be tormented. This was only further evidenced by what Patrick exclaimed next.

"You're fired!"

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

Outside the North End apartment complex that Amber Hawkeye called home, a vehicle lingered for several minutes. The driver obsessively checked the address, making sure that he'd arrived at the right place.

Well, I might as well go in. I have a job to do, and I don't have much time to do it.

Had Danny been awake at that time, he would have been alarmed by the sight of such a vehicle. He might have taken it as proof that he was about to face the music, and he might not have been wrong.

The driver climbed out of his car and locked the door. He walked across the parking lot, taking in the full moon hovering over the city of Boston. Unlike New York, the city that was known to never sleep, Boston enjoyed no such reputation. Nothing was open past 10 PM, and the lights in almost all the skyscrapers were shut off.

The man checked the apartment number one last time before making his way to the corresponding entrance. The mailbox was empty, not that he'd expected otherwise; nobody used snail-mail these days.

He knocked on the door, looking through the peephole at the same time. From what he could tell, the light was still on in Amber's apartment even though it was almost two in the morning. Someone wasn't sleeping.

"Come in," a female voice announced.

"Excellent" the man stated, opening the door and entering the apartment. "You are Amber Hawkeye?"

The young woman nodded, her blonde braids flapping up and down as she did so.

"Wonderful," the man responded. "Since it's so late, I'll cut to the chase. Where is he?"

"He's not awake right now," Amber told him. "He went to bed early, and I'm clearly up a lot later than he is."

"Oh well," the man replied with a smile of determination. "I don't think that will be an issue."