“That’s a nice hair color you’ve got. Tell me, is it natural?”

Zed turned around in a gentle flourish, holding up the cardboard box like a tray with a delicate glass of wine atop it.

His new company was a lady in a beautiful red gown. Up close she wore the red dress so well it was as if it had been tailor-made for her. Its material was so neat Zed found himself hard pressed to believe she’d gotten it from anywhere nearby.

“It’s a natural wig,” he answered her. “Lost my hair a while back fighting off some creepy looking spider monster. I think the contractor called it a blob. Anyway, some of its goo got on my head and melted the hair right off. What little I had left just started falling off like I was a cancer patient in my third week of chemo.”

“I don’t think blobs of any kind have that effect,” the lady said, unsure.

“That’s what I told the guy,” Zed said in a low whine. “And guess what he tells me after that.”

“What?”

“He tells me it’s a rare blob species. Apparently it’s called a chemo blob. Shocking, right?”

The lady spared him a doubtful look and Zed shrugged.

“Like I said,” Zed went on. “Shocking. Still, my hair started growing back in a few weeks later even though it’s slow, so I guess it’s alright. I got my pay for the hunt and got my hair back, no matter how little.”

“And what did this chemo blob look like?” the lady asked.

“Brown arachnid legs and blue torso. Kind of looked like a dysmorphic sloth’s head if you asked me.”

“Never seen the kind,” the lady said. “But thanks. Ah, where are my manners?” she held her hand out for a handshake. “I’m Ronda.”

Zed reached out and shook the hand. “Ned.”

Ronda shook his hand once before letting go.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ned,” she said.

“With a lady that can rock a dress that well,” Zed chuckled, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

Ronda’s friendly smile remained on her face but Zed noticed she was beginning to put some effort into holding it there.

He was losing her interest and he knew it. It brewed a challenge in him, an urge to see if he could get it back, and he battled with his desire to meet the challenge and the desire to deliver the coat and get the hell out of here.

He was on the verge of a decision when Ronda made it for him.

“Please don’t be just another flirt,” she said with an audible sigh.

“Another flirt,” Zed said. “Please be kind enough to explain.”

“Well, guys that look like you with the red hair and the green eyes are usually one of two things,” she said. “They’re either snubs or flirts.”

“Well, those aren’t guys like me.”

“The flirts or the snubs?”

“I was talking about the red hair and green eyes,” Zed said, turning slowly so that she now walked with him.

“You have red hair,” she pointed out. “And green eyes.”

“Well, I’ve already explained the hair,” Zed said. “Chemo blob and all that. And it’s auburn by the way. As for the green eyes, I could’ve sworn it was blue before the second awakening.”

“The eye story is believable,” Ronda said, “but you could be lying about the hair.”

Zed chuckled at that. “I assure you it’s auburn, not red.”

“Not talking about the color, handsome.”

“Oh, that. Well, I’d ask you to tug on it a little if it wasn’t—ouch!” Zed shrieked, then glared at her. “I said a little, and you didn’t let me finish.”

“That was a little,” Ronda laughed. “And it doesn’t feel like a wig. It’s pretty in there if you ask me.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“That’s because you didn’t let me finish,” Zed complained, rubbing the back of his head.

People moved around them, exchanging easy words as they conversed. There were groups and individuals who seemed like they already knew themselves and they formed small cliques, building on whatever acquaintanceship they already had.

“As I was saying,” Zed continued when he was done rubbing his head. “If you had let me finish, you would’ve heard the part where the adhesive I used is really strong.”

“Not true,” Ronda said, shaking her head. “I have a really strong arm. Any glue would’ve come off from that tug.”

Zed stared at her.

“And you said that was your definition of a little tug,” he said.

“What can I say?” she shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

“I believe you,” Zed said flatly. “And as I was saying before you so kindly interrupted me, the adhesive I used is from a Spittle Spork.”

“What’s that?”

Zed turned to her, surprised. “I can understand you not knowing the Chemo blob but not the Spittle Spork. Are you sure you’re a local?”

Ronda shook her head, chuckling lightly. “What made you possibly think I’m a local? Do you not see the dress?”

She gave him a single twirl and he definitely saw the dress.

“I don’t think there’s any local around here with access to this level of quality,” she said.

“If you’re not local, then where are you from?” Zed asked.

“No,” Ronda refused with a smile. “You first. What’s a Spittle Spork?”

She was slowing her steps as the distance between Abed and them decreased and the gentleman in Zed was forced to slow down with her. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t enjoying the conversation, after all.

“You know what a normal spork is?” Zed asked. “The animal.”

“Yes?”

“Wait, you do?”

Ronda’s lips scrunched up as she held back a sound before blurting it out.

“No,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Not at all. The only spork I know is a utensil. I think you’ve got the name all wrong.”

She was still laughing even as Zed asked, “You sure? Because I think I’m right. Alright, what animal do you know with a name that rhymes with spork?”

“A stork?” Ronda said with a smug smile, her face still full of laughter.

Zed paused as he thought about it, then frowned. “I just want to put it on the record that I hate you now.”

“But we were having so much fun,” Ronda laughed. “Okay, you’re right and I’m wrong. Tell me about this majestic spork.”

Zed didn’t say anything for a moment, simply watching the joy on Ronda’s face and wondering why she’d been watching him discreetly enough to draw Oliver’s attention.

“I forgive you,” he said abruptly, before resuming their walk.

“You’re such a gentleman,” Ronda replied. “And in no way a flirt or a snub.”

“Careful, love. I might be running a long con. This might just be a ruse to learn what else you have on.”

“And maybe I want to see if you’re hiding a tux under all those clothes,” she replied, her voice sultry.

“Yeah, no.” Zed shook his head. “That’s enough flirting for one night.”

Ronda laughed at his expression. The sound was loud enough for a mage they passed to spare her an odd glance.

“Well, you started it,” she said.

“And I’m ending it,” Zed said.

They were only two people away from Abed who had his back turned to them now.

“Now a Spittle Spork,” Zed began.

“Are you sure it’s not called a Spittle Stork,” Ronda interrupted, “because recent discovery has proven that that might just be the correct name.”

“A Spittle Spork, because I refuse to bend to valid reasoning, is a giant stork that spits a very viscous fluid that when exposed to air for a long enough period of time hardens exponentially,” Zed said. “However, it is known by the locals that this phenomenon only lasts for a day, two at the most, before it wears off. Thus, I will be an auburn-head for a day, two at the most.”

“And how long have you had it on?”

“I left my place early this morning,” Zed mused, “And I put it on after I was dropped off, so that should be roughly six hours. Why?”

“Just making sure,” Ronda said. “So it won’t come off later tonight if I grab it a bit too hard?”

Zed’s jaw dropped comically.

“There will be no grabbing of my hair tonight or any other night for that matter.”

“Oh don’t be a bore,” Ronda chided. “If it makes you feel any better, you can pull on mine later tonight if that’s what you like. It’s a hundred percent natural so you don’t have to worry about anything coming off.”

Zed sighed as they came to a stop behind Abed. “Now I see why you were hoping I wasn’t a flirt.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you like to be the flirt in the relationship. If we’re both flirts, we’ll never get anything done.”

“That’s debatable,” Ronda opposed. “I could very well argue that we would get a lot of specific things done. Just not the ones you’re referring to.”

“I stand corrected,” Zed conceded, raising his hand and tapping Abed’s shoulder lightly.

He caught a grimace on Ronda’s face just before he tapped Abed’s shoulder and the feel of it gave him pause. He turned his attention to Abed, praying he was wrong and the man’s suit was simply just unnaturally firm and smooth.

Sadly, it was not, and Zed found himself with his hand on Abed’s head.

He’s shorter than he looks from afar, he thought, slowly taking his hand off the man’s bald scalp.

When Abed turned to Zed, Zed realized that the man really wasn’t necessarily short. He only had perhaps four inches on the man. The error had come from him raising his hand a bit too high.

“My deepest apologies,” he offered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“And who the hell are you?” Abed cut him off. “And what makes you think you can just…”

Abed’s words trailed off as his eyes settled on Zed’s hair.

“You must get that a lot,” Ronda whispered beside Zed.

Zed snorted. “You have no idea.”

Abed slid the hand of the girl standing with him from the crook of his elbow and slipped it into one hand, so that it looked as though she was reaching behind him. With his now free right hand, he offered Zed a handshake.

“You must be the new addition to Jason’s team,” he said as Zed took his hand.

By the simple virtue of having Abed’s attention, Zed garnered the attention of the mages around them. He felt a mild flicker in different auras and visibly held back a gulp. Most of the people in the building were either a higher category than him or a higher rank than him. He could only identify two mages that were category one Beta mages and they walked in a group of high category Betas or low category Rukhs.

He looked at Ronda and wondered which category she fell into. If she was anything more than a Beta mage, then he could believe she’d used just a little force when she’d tugged at his hair.