Ash raised his hands. “I didn’t know! I’m sorry! I just thought… Me and Ivy met gaming. We’re gamers. What gamer doesn’t want a challenge?”

“The incredible realism is super-creepy sometimes,” Elwood said. “More real than reality.”

Ash said, “You don’t think I’m a little creeped out by it? I’m the one who’s been killed once already!”

The Delacroix family sat back and observed this gamespell-breaking exchange without reaction, occupying themselves with their soup, and a beautifully crusted bowl of baguettes and a fat wheel of creamy brie cheese.

Ash sighed. “You’re right, I should have asked you all.” Part of him wanted to say that this was also supposed to be just him and Ivy, but he thought it wise to restrain that complaint. “I’m sorry about that. I just wanted everybody to have the most incredible time possible.”

“He’s right,” James said, to Ash’s shock. “We should quit coming down on him. He’s been busting his ass to make sure we’re all having a good time. He’s doing a good job as party leader. And this has already been an experience none of us will ever forget.” He glanced at Anastasia. “Hell, part of me wishes I could live in here. We’re perfectly safe, right? The real world is right outside, boring and unfair as it all is. My sister shouldn’t have had to lose her arm. Nobody deserves that kind of pain. She should be dating like a normal person. Anyway, I’m kind of rambling. But I’m really grateful I got to come along on this ride.”

The three players stared at him. Ash wanted to hug him. Elwood’s mouth was open.

Ivy said, “Who are you and what have you done with my kid brother?”

“Bite me, bi-atch,” James said as he threw his napkin at her, and all four of them laughed.

Anastasia leaned close to James and said something Ash thought was, “Nice speech.”

James grinned at her and sat up straighter in his chair.

Ash found Ivy’s gaze squarely upon him. Her eyes were warm and a little conciliatory. “James is right.” She laid her biological hand on his—just for a moment before withdrawing it.

His heart leaped nonetheless.

“So,” Gilbert said, tapping his fork against a plate with a sharp ring, “may I ask what your investigation has uncovered?”

Delphine slapped his arm playfully. “That can wait until dessert, Gilbert. None of us wants to hear any bad news during dinner. Poor Anastasia will succumb to the vapors. You know how fragile she is.” The old woman’s face held more wrinkles than Ash had ever seen on a single person. There was a hardness to Delphine Delacroix, like all those wrinkles and paper-thin skin covered a terminator endoskeleton. Her posture was oddly stiff, constricted somehow. Her eyes met Ash’s, sharp as chips of gray flint. He looked away.

“I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by all this excitement,” Anastasia said. “I cannot recall the last time strangers paid us a visit, a fact I find most lamentable.”

“There goes my poor sister,” Armand said, his voice dripping with condescension, “with her head in the clouds.”

“I have you to keep me grounded, dear brother,” Anastasia said. “Much like an anchor chain around my neck,” she added sharply.

Armand stiffened, eyes flashing. She smiled sweetly at him, batting her eyelashes.

Ash raised his voice, “To answer your question, Mr. Delacroix, we have discovered a few things, but they’ve only raised more questions. We’ll be happy to discuss them with you, as Madame Delacroix suggests, over dessert.”

The next course arrived: marinated, soft-boiled quail eggs in a rich, buttery yellow sauce.

This kind of food was so alien to Ash he wasn’t sure how to eat it. He’d never had brie before—it was weird, but it grew on him quickly—much less anything like these quail eggs. The rich, crusty bread was absolutely incredible. He had to actively restrain himself from chowing down an entire baguette.

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The fanciest meal he’d ever had was one night at Red Lobster when his mom had won a gift certificate at the company Christmas party. She had insisted that he order lobster, but it was too weird. He didn’t like it, so they took it home as leftovers. He’d grown up on the cheapest red hot dogs wrapped in slices of white bread, along with PB&Js, ramen noodles, and shame. Now that she was gone, some of his worst regrets were all the times he’d complained to her as a kid how crappy their food was. Couldn’t he just have a hamburger? Or the non-generic cereal? He would never forget the guilt in her eyes. If only he’d been mature enough to understand that sooner.

The quail egg practically melted in his mouth, and the sauce was so rich and delicious he wanted to lick the plate. When would he ever get the chance to eat like this again? Any subsequent date with Ivy would be an enormous letdown after this. McDonalds, here we come.

#

Ash had handled all that with such charm and eloquence that Ivy found herself wishing she could see his real face right now, not this XR facsimile. Initially she’d been annoyed that James had brought up her disfigurement, but then maybe he’d just called attention to the elephant in the room. Maybe she was the elephant in the room. She’d brought two people with her on a date, because she’d chickened out at the last minute. She’d always enjoyed gaming with Ash, and part of her really did want to get to know him in real life. He was funny, reliable, and occasionally incredibly clever. And she really had been having a great time. The thrills felt more real than a carnival funhouse, and even more surreal and weird. This whole experience was so much different than anything she’d expected. The tech felt decades ahead of anything she’d even heard of.

She had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss Ash on the cheek, but that would grind the game to a screeching halt. There was plenty of time for that later. Their earlier conversation had already knocked everyone out of character.

The servants brought out another course of entrée for each of them, half of a golden-roasted Cornish hen crusted with herbs, plated in some sort of savory, green sauce. Elwood, however, received something else entirely, what appeared to be a colorfully layered stack of vegetables and mushroom.

“Portobello Napoleon,” the servant said. “Our vegetarian entrée.”

“You knew I was vegetarian?” Elwood said.

The GM said, “We’ve had time to do full profiles on all of you.”

That was, once again, a little creepy, Ivy thought, but not all that surprising.

“This is only the second course,” Delphine said. “There will be five more.”

Then with a flash of jaw-dropping surprise, Ivy noticed that James and Anastasia were holding hands below the table. That little… She bit back a smile. Her brother was playing all of this to the hilt.

The awful howl from above had ceased, but Renard had not returned. It had been an eruption both tortured and vicious. What would it have been like in centuries past to deal with mentally ill family members?

But her worries were soon sidelined by the melt-in-your-mouth majesty of this Cornish hen, crispy on the outside, savory and juicy on the inside. With a nationally renowned neurosurgeon for a mother, a very social and ambitious neurosurgeon, Ivy was well acquainted with all sorts of haute cuisine. Her mother had dragged Ivy and James to all sorts of professional conferences, employing nannies and hotel room televisions as babysitters and room service for breakfast. Their mother, like most medical doctors, was a health nut, raising her children on an endless succession of food fads. Sometimes, Ivy just wanted a turkey leg. She’d eaten one once at a renaissance fair and fallen deeply in love. Her mother had scornfully told her she looked like a heathen, her little girl devouring an enormous turkey leg. It felt like a slap. She should be better than that, her mother said.

Even with her doctor-mom upbringing and the fancy food that sometimes entailed, there were dishes even she couldn’t identify appearing on the table. But everything was absolutely delicious. Ash just looked confused and a little shell-shocked. She had guessed his upbringing was somewhat less affluent, but he was handling it well, especially when the fish course showed up, an entire roasted mackerel with the head still attached, swimming in herbs, butter and baby potatoes.

This was without question shaping up to be the finest meal she’d ever eaten.

Before the food started to appear, she’d wondered for a moment if the visor would somehow make eating physically awkward, but somehow it didn’t. She could barely perceive its presence anymore, like getting used to wearing glasses.

Did the sense of dramatic tension make the food taste better? Her character, and therefore she herself, was in a hostile environment, surrounded by potential enemies. The Delacroix maintained a strained silence. Throughout the meal, she wondered about Renard, because he did not return, but at least that horrid howling ceased. The players traded comments and questions about the food, awkwardly trying to fill the silence. It was an odd dichotomy between the stellar food and the grandiose but dismal environment.

Dessert was a delectable raspberry almond tart, her absolute favorite, and it was so good it almost made her cry. After so many courses, she was beyond full, but as she looked around at her companions, she noticed that Ash’s health bar, which had been reduced to half by having to respawn, was now back to full. And hers, James’s, and Ellie’s had been increased by an extra ten percent.

Then, when their desserts were finished, as if on cue, Gilbert dabbed his lips with his napkin and said, “Perhaps now we will discuss what you have discovered. We are most keen to have it returned.”

Ash said, “Then first we should discuss what I found in the basement, or perhaps, what found me.”