SAVE POINT 49
Reloading A Crush Situation...120%
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1102021402707628096/1111409274682355842/7e9d97b1-41bb-4220-b962-7fc4ecb0aaf7.png][https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1102021402707628096/1111409275307302965/6c539ef9-3854-4435-b700-ad4997010900.png]
Rosabella
I never know what to do with Dormouse when he gets like this; it's like the kid goes into instant comatose. His face is sheet white; his eyes, glossed over and far away. How does one wake someone from shock? Is this shock? Can you really go into shock over seeing a crush? —It feels a little...premature. I'm not even convinced he really even knows the girl. I nudge the boy in the shoulder, but it does very little except reverberate through his entire body—so much so that he nearly falls over like he's lost all control over his muscles. ...And, then, I have to grasp his arm to steady him back up.
All of which feels incredibly unsustainable.
His eyes are locked.
On the blonde across the crowded room—Maude. She looks slightly older now than she had in the side mission, but no less beautiful. Looking like she's queen of whatever world she's in, just based solely on her looks, she flicks a layer of straight, blonde hair over her shoulder and continues talking easily with the mousy, brown-haired girl next to her. The other girl has freckles, a wide-smile and a bob cut that ends at her pointed chin. I'm not much for judging, but, if I had to talk to one of them, I'd probably go with the friend and not Maude.
Why is Dormouse so hooked on this blonde chick?
He's hyperventilating now. People around us are starting to take notice...which is always a plus.... "Maude probably saw me come out of the woman's bathroom," Dormouse mutters rapidly, "Oh my God, this is so embarrassing—"
"I'm pretty sure she didn't see anything," I hiss, cutting him off "She was ordering—"
"How do I look?" the kid blinks down at me, running a hand through his tousled, black hair. "If there was ever a moment that I need you to be real with me, it's right now," he whimpers, "How do I look?" His eyes are intense, dark orbs.
Distressed.
There's a shine to his forehead. Is he...sweating? How does he look?
Like a trainwreck.
As white as Casper the ghost?
Like a really bad first date?
I can't tell him any of these things; I have to calm him down. I swallow all of the truth and manage a smile, "You look...fine. Why don't we just go sit down for a minute. I think you should sit down—"
"Sit down, sit down," the boy repeats frantically, his eyes darting between places on the floor and over my shoulder, "yes, let's—oh my gosh, don't let her see me!" He squeezes in front of me like narrowly avoiding his own death, and I notice that the girls have shifted slightly to the pickup counter. Dormouse ducks away, returning to his seat before me.
Exhausted by this entire ordeal (whatever this entire ordeal is), I slither into the chair facing Sparo, completely forgetting Dormouse's and my entire conversation and the reason we got up in the first place. ...Oh, right. Sparo's looking for Goran too, and Dormouse hadn't wanted him to be part of our mission... Until I'd convinced him otherwise, and we'd run into his crush. Then, he'd promptly forgot all about it...
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
"We ran into a bit of a situation..." I start slowly, speaking at the dark-skinned man and eyeing Dormouse delicately.
"In the women's bathroom?" Sparo chuckles, "Yeah, I saw you both duck in there. Hell of a place to have a situation—hey, where did you get that donut?" The man snaps the urgent question at Dormouse who's just opened his mouth to take a bite of a pink-frosted, sprinkled donut that I've never seen before in my life.
The kid pauses, mid-bite, looking around like a chipmunk, afraid that someone's going to steal his food, "They had a free donut sign, I saw it, I took it—"
"Never mind about the donut!" I huff, plopping my folded arms down on the uneven table which wobbles sharply towards me, "Sparo, you're here looking for Goran. We're here looking for him too. He's trying to destroy the Game. We're going to stop him—"
"I need a laptop and Wi-Fi to see if he's already tried to hack into The Game security," Dormouse mumbles at Sparo, holding himself in a sort of hug as he rocks back and forth in his plastic chair and glances over his shoulder at Maude and her friend every three seconds.
Sparo nods, "Consider it done, kid. But, Rosabella, you know where he's hiding?"
"No," I admit, "That's the problem. We figure he needs the internet to launch any sort of attack. We were going to start checking all of the restaurants and such around here."
"We should split up," Sparo begins, but Dormouse doesn't let him finish.
"No," the dork protests, "'Cause you're gonna disappear someplace with Rosabella, and I'm gonna be stuck on my own somewhere..."
Toche; the kid's not as daft as he looks.
"Plus, Rosabella knows him best," the kid adds, "She'll know where he frequents...what his schedule's like. That's gonna help."
I nod. Dormouse has a point. I need to start thinking like Goran. Where would he take me if he wanted to lay low? We've been all over this city, but I know all his hidey-holes. I can figure this out.
"Okay," I say directly, "Let me think about it for a minute. I'll make a list of ideas. Dormouse, if you could—"
"He'll be needing these, I'd guess..."
I turn at Sparo's words and...the dragon-non-dragon's one step ahead of the game again as he hands the boy a shiny, silver laptop.
Nice.
"Wi-Fi password is on the napkin holder." He points.
And Dormouse's spindly fingers gleefully open the glossy, new laptop with the glee of a kid at Christmas.
It's off to the races. We can do this. We can put our heads together and make this happen—err, stop this from happening.
...Except Dormouse doesn't look at all like he has his head in the game. His brow is still slick with sweat and the skin of his face is so pale it's nearly see-through. He's shoved the entire donut in his mouth, now, and crumbles of it linger in the folds of his shirt. If he glances one more time over his shoulder at Maude, he's going to look paranoid.
...And he does...
Oh my God...
I open my mouth to tell him off—to tell him that no girl is worth worrying about to this degree, but something stops me.
The tinkling of the tiny bell on the cafe door.
And I look up to realize that Maude has left—waltzed out of the shop, swinging her hips and the cafe door shut behind her. ...While her friend lingers behind, twirling an almost-empty coffee in her resting hand. And it suddenly occurs to me: why are they even here? Why are so many Gamers out of The Game and in this coffee shop?
I move to leave my chair, "I'm gonna go talk to her—Maude's friend," I whisper.
But Dormouse clamps a solid hand down on my arm, "No. I am."
And there's a strange sort of resolve reflecting back at me in his eyes—something I don't want to mess with at the moment.
"Rosabella," he pleads, "I swear I'll get the code right and have The Game monitoring system up in a few minutes, but first—let me just go talk to her."
And I can't say no.
...Because it's the first amount of courage the kid's showed since we've stepped in here.