• Published 27th Mar 2019
  • 1,605 Views, 225 Comments

Five Score – A Prench Tale Vol.1 - Alsey



Getting a cutie mark for my birthday was already strange enough, but what will I do now that my body has suddenly decided to take a Prench leave..?

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0 – Prologue

It's about to rain.

I can barely see the pale face of the moon through the window, hidden behind the clouds. From my vantage point on the building's second floor I have a good view of the courtyard, and the tractors and other large farm vehicles parked there. Beyond the tall wire fence, the street lighting is sparse along the road, while the surrounding fields are left deeply steeped into the shadows of the night. It's the perfect time for a bold and daring escape.

And for waxing poetic, apparently.

...

Focus, dammit...

The others left about five minutes ago, and during this time more and more cars have parked in front of the crashed gates. For my part, I put the last touches to our cursory attempts at defensive measures. Preparing covers, gathering potential weapons, blocking some doors... Once they get inside, they will have to cross the workshop to the stairs, then there's the corridor between offices – two successive bottlenecks. That should slow them down, and keep it as much as possible at one-on-one...

Well... All set, or rather as much as can be done in five minutes, and as ready as I'll ever be...

I finally switch the upstairs office's lights on, signaling my position.

No going back now.

My ears swivel at the sound of barking outside. Peeking discretely through the window, I see the bastards all grouped together talking, about twenty of them. They have two large attack dogs on leashes.

Damn... I don't want to hurt dogs...

I chance a closer look. Most of the men are just in plain clothes, though I can't exclude some kind of light body armor for the more military-looking of them. As for weapons, I can spot everything from gardening tools to baseball bats and crowbars, and more worryingly, some firearms – mainly hunting rifles. This guy in full camo garb seems to be a leader of sorts, snarling orders I can't quite make out from the distance. All in all, I probably don't stand a chance, but I don't plan on going down easily either.

The men divide into two groups, most of them coming directly toward the building while the others make their way through the cluttered courtyard. They lead the dogs, and the beams of their flashlights dance between the rows of agricultural machinery. Probably scouting the perimeter, just in case the light in the building is a diversion, and securing any of their preys' potential escape routes. Sensible, but fortunately for us, too late. Only pitfall would be the dogs catching a conspicuous scent leading into the countryside, and I cannot allow that.

I push a chair under the window and hop on it, revealing myself and making a show for them – 'the search is over, your prey is here'.

It works.

They shout, some in surprise, others in rage, and a more level-headed one shoulders his rifle. I have just the time to duck down as the window pane shatters, the bullet still grazing my upper thigh. I hear them rushing to the building's main door, then their curses as they find it locked. I know it's only a matter of time until they get through – at least there's no first floor windows.

Only have to wait for the storm...

I switch the lights off. The furious pounding at the door rings out in the darkened building. The first drops start to fall from the sky, and soon I can hear the comforting splatter of rain on the sheet metal roof. I watch idly at my first wound of the night, a thin trail of blood slowly making its way down my leg, crossing in vibrant red the cutie mark emblazoned on my body.

Despite the pain, I can't help but snicker at the sight. Up until fairly recently I had a pretty ordinary life. Nothing especially remarkable, just my little routine, some good parts, some a bit less so, but still in the realm of normalcy. Now I'm on the losing end of a siege against armed men, and I'm not expecting to make it through... It's almost funny how things have changed in less than a week...

*sigh*

What have we done to end up in this mess..?

– — ○ — –

~ Less than a week ago... ~

Ambre's View

I fumble a bit with my phone until I manage to stop the alarm. After some delightful stretching, I reach for my glasses and slide out of the covers with the usual twinge of morning mourning. I can almost hear the soft whispering of my bed and its promises of sweet, sweet leisury times in its silky embrace... But I'm stronger than this, and I will not succumb! Behold as I pull myself on my feet, the triumph of willpower and responsibility over the harrowing temptation of sleeping in! Once again, I prevail against my baser instincts... Great job, Ambre!

... Yes, that's more or less how I've started all my work days for the past three months... But I've always had difficulties getting up so early, and these ridiculous pep talks are a most effective distraction.

And I'm talking to myself, about how I'm talking to myself... Recursivity for the win!

Er, anyway, back on tracks... Phone in hand, I feel my way around the tiny room, not really needing the lights to find my neatly-stowed stuff. I get my meds from the little pharmacy bag, then make my way through the still-mostly-asleep house towards the kitchen. I turn on the old but trusty coffeemaker, watching the life-giving fluid percolating oh-so-slowly into the pot while gobbling a couple madeleines.

I check the phone: 4:34 a.m. – good, still plenty of time. Then I linger on the date, April 30th. Tomorrow will be the ten-month anniversary of beginning my treatment. Incidentally, it'll also be my birthday.

Twenty-five years... Should I try to do something special for the occasion, beyond what I'd plan for any other day off?

If I'm being honest with myself, I couldn't care less... Birthdays quickly lose their interest when there's no-one left to celebrate them with. Now they only mark the end of one more year I somehow managed to survive on this planet. Yay, I guess? Whatever... It's meds time.

The little ritual is comforting. First comes the estradiol gel in its white plastic pump bottle, two doses of cold salve that I rub on my forearms, letting out a mild alcoholic tang as it penetrates through my epidermis. Then, the little tasteless pill of cyproterone, going down my throat with a bit of water. Each morning the same ceremony, like a celebration of self-determination. It never fails to put a smile on my face, a smile that grows even wider when I see that coffee's ready. I down a cup then a second; to be frank it could well be an unofficial part of my treatment, even if technically excess caffeine is not exactly recommended... But hey, a girl needs her coffee.

The taste of the warm brew still on my lips, I relocate to the bathroom. My face greets me in the mirror, or at least, the portion below my brow... One of the little daily reminders that I'm a full head taller than my hosts, but a less painful one than banging into each and every luminaire of the house! Crouching a bit, I scrub hot water against my skin then apply a bit of grainy exfoliant cream. Water again to rinse, getting rid of any unwanted facial hair, finishing with some tasteful touches of makeup, nothing fancy, and voilà!

Back in my room after the required toilet stop, I make the bed and get dressed. For the morning job, just plain, unassuming clothes are the best. I pull my kinky hair into a tight bun, grab my shoulderbag, put on some lip balm, and we're ready to go! I catch Mrs. Dejean in the kitchen on the way to the front door, nursing her bowl of white coffee. We exchange greetings, but I do not linger; she can be quite the chatterer, and I only have so much time left if I want to get my tram...

The brisk morning air helps clearing my thoughts. I stride along the sidewalk, enjoying the melodic chirps of the local bird population and not really enjoying the noxious fumes of the passing vehicles, until I reach the tramway station. I'm the only one on the platform at this early hour, but not for long – I can already see the blue and white streetcar whizzing down the street in my direction. I give myself a mental high-five; once again, impeccable timing! Smiling slightly, I hop into the mostly empty car as soon as the doors open, validate my transit pass, and plop into a seat.

It was hard to comply with the necessities of this early morning drill, for the first few weeks. But, well, I managed. I had to. Relying only on my first job didn't cut it anymore, and I was lucky enough that this opportunity for a second one turned up. I shouldn't complain, really. As the streetcar snakes through the city center, I catch glimpses of those less fortunate, cuddling against the cold in the dark corners between buildings, still asleep on dirty mattresses. I've been there, too, not so long ago. And even if there's still a little voice in the back of my mind whispering that I'm already pushing my luck as it is, I'm not planning of ending back on the streets any time soon.

Well... 'Best laid plans' and all this kind of things, right..?

I step out of the streetcar in front of the train station, waiting just a little bit for my connection. There's more people in the streets around here, some just milling around or managing deliveries, most on their way to or from work, fellow early risers or night shifters. Oh, and the half-drunk guys who like to pester you from time to time, can't really forget those... Don't have to deal with that today, at least.

The next part of my commute is both the longest in distance and the shortest in duration, cruising more or less in a straight line towards the city's outskirts closest to the sea. Getting out of the tram, I'm greeted by the seagulls soaring noisily overhead. I make my way through empty parking lots towards the office park, and the Agoris buildings. The three matching four-stories structures are only a couple years old, if I remember well, with all the latest environmental regulations and whatnot. It's also where I work, so to speak.

Sitting on a bench of the plaza at the junction of the three buildings, I spot my colleague Rafaela, having an early smoke before getting started on her part of the job:

Buenos días!”, I chirp in barely passable Spanish.

“And hello to you too, Ambre”, she answers with her cig still between her lips. “Doing the yellow again?”

We're three from the same company tending to the Agoris complex, one for each building, and I always try to be assigned to the yellow-themed one. “Yep! Well, if that's no trouble?”

She dismisses my concern with a flick of the hand, not really caring, and I get back on my way.

I arrive at the doors of the yellow building, the security token on my keyring granting me entry. The lights turn on by themselves at my presence as I cross the lobby and open the technical cabinet. I stash my stuff in and pull out the janitor cart. It rained yesterday, and it shows on the lobby's mud-speckled floor, but I'm only supposed to mop on Thursdays so I don't bother and head to the nearest office instead.

Sweeping floors, refilling dispensers, emptying trash cans... Shutting down your brain is surprisingly helpful when you have to take care of boring, repetitive tasks.

– — –

As the sun's rays barely breach the horizon, a little less than an hour and a half after my arrival, I make my way to the fourth and last floor. This office is occupied by Sensaz', an SME working on all kinds of software, or so I'm told. I admit I'm not what I'd call a tech-savvy person. Haven't owned a computer for years, either... Though I suppose a smartphone could technically count as a small portable computer? Anyway, there's a good reason I pay a little more attention to this part than the others, and said reason has just crossed the office's front doors.

“Morning, Sarah!”

The woman pulls out her earbuds at my greeting, trademark smirk on her lips:

“Hey Ambre, what's up?”

“The usual...”, I shrug. “Just done with your station, moving to the rest.”

“Great, thanks!”

I leave Sarah to her reception desk and push my cart through the cluttered open-plan office. I do my thing with just a little more haste than before until, about a dozen minutes later, I head to the break room. Sarah is waiting there with two steaming coffee cups from the top-of-the-line espresso machine.

“Thank you!”, I gush as I take the one she offers me and down it in one go.

Ahhh, sooo good... The perfect pick-me-up before taking care of the restrooms!

... And nooo, that's not the only reason I always pick the yellow building. Well, okay, that's a non-trivial factor, but the company's great too.

I met Sarah on my second week on duty at the Agoris. As luck would have it, I was cleaning the yellow building the same morning she was forced to come extra-early – and just her. She was sooo frustrated, I think she really appreciated to have a neutral party for venting it all. I wouldn't exactly call us friends, not yet, but since then we try to sync our schedules, enjoying good coffee and the occasional little chat.

“So,” I begin, “did you have a chance to start on the first one?”

She raises an eyebrow. “What do you... Oh! Oh yes, yes, sorry, I did! Honestly I wasn't too sure how it was gonna go, fantasy's usually really not my thing, but I must admit... First two chapters left me intrigued for more.”

“I knew you would like them! These books really were a big part of my teenage years, and the naturalistic take on fantasy tropes, and the character-driven narrative, it's a shame it's not more popular than it is!”

“If you say so. I can't promise I'll finish them anytime soon though, 'cause it's, like, three hundred pages, and if there's six of them...”

“It's okay, there's no rush.” I smile, hiding my slight disappointment. She did warn me she could be a slow reader... Though how much is it slow reading, rather than having better things to do..? She goes out a lot, has lots of friends... A true social butterfly.

Not surprising, really; I can't help but be a little envious of her looks... Tall, but still not as embarrassingly so as I am, and certainly more fit. Let's not even talk about her hips or breasts... Though if I were honest, I suppose her best asset is this kind of effortless confidence I can only hope to approximate someday...

Yeah... One can always dream...

“Oh by the way,” asks Sarah, pulling me out of my brooding, “are you on duty tomorrow too?”

“Thankfully no.” Yay for public holidays! “I was thinking of taking some fresh air at the botanical garden, if the weather's good.”

“Neat! For my part, I was planing to do a little somethin' for my birthday tomorrow evening. Just a small party at home, ten people tops. Would you like to come?”

“That's very nice, but— wait, tomorrow's your birthday too?”

Her face lights up at my slip, smile blossoming on her lips. Damn it, I didn't mean to say it like that!

“Wait wait wait, you're born on May First too!?”

Argh! I can't take it back, can I!? Damn, damn, triple-damn! Me and my big mouth! And of course, seeing Sarah all expectant like that, I can't just back out... I don't like revealing too much about myself, you never know how it may bite you in the ass down the road, but... I guess she's always been friendly, so if someone has to know, I could've done a lot worse... And in the grand scheme of things, what's so crucial about a birth date, right..?

“... Yes, it's my birthday too.”, I finally let out.

She actually hops from excitement, oblivious or just unconcerned by my reluctance, or even by the cup full of hot liquid still in her hand: “But that's awesome! Talk about a coincidence! Now you really have to come!”

... Damn, I should have said it was someone's else birthday! Why do the good ideas always come too late!? Anyway... I grit my teeth, my resistance crumbling in the face of her reckless enthusiasm:

“Okay Sarah, I'll come...”

“Perfect, it's a plan then! I'll text you the details.”

She keeps on smiling and sipping at her coffee, maybe a little too smugly for my taste, as I manage to escape with the perfectly-good-reason-and-not-a-pretext-at-all that I still have work to do...

– — o — –

Sarah's View

I get back to my desk and claim my comfy chair, satisfied with a job well done. I wake the computer and I'm greeted by all my fully-loaded applications, ready to rock some... well, nothing more glamorous than spreadsheets and accounting ERPs, but it has to be done.

A little while later Ambre pushes her cart back towards the lobby, her work done for the morning. The tall black girl waves on her way out with her cleaning supplies and bags of trash. I'm sure she's still a little annoyed that I finally had my way. Seriously, that cagey bookworm always managed to weasel out of my invitations 'til now, but that birthday thing? If that's not Destiny I don't know what is! Feels good when things decide to go your way...

Though I guess I'll have to read more of that book of hers sooner rather than later... I wish there was an audiobook version.

Anyhow! Work's not gonna take care of itself. Especially when, besides manning the reception, it's up to you to manage everything from accounting to stocks and payrolls... First task for this morning is taking care of the weekly reports from our teams to the clients, with more synthetic versions for the bosses. Of course, half the team leaders still haven't forwarded their notes...

As I compose what I can and cross out an increasing number of things from my to-do list, other employees start coming in. Something I'll always like about this company: whatever the position on the totem pole, I can always expect a friendly greeting when a coworker go by my desk, even from the bosses! Well, 'always'... Here comes the most glaring exception to the rule.

Laurence 'Grumpy Pants' Ségaux. Shortish black-haired girl who clearly doesn't see enough sun, with an impeccable work ethic but simply deplorable attitude. I'm lucky when I get so much as a glance and a curt 'hello' before she flees to her computer. Despite managerial pressure, she always refuses to participate in company life, and I heard that if she wasn't so steadfast in her work she'd already have been shown the door... I understand she can get difficult, but seriously, as long as she does her job, and she does it good, I'll stand by her. I've been pushed out of good jobs far too often just for this kind of 'personality issues' to let it happen to someone else, if I can help it...

Most of what's left of the morning elapses without notable issues...

... Well, until this email from high-up, about some problem with an employee's excessive overtime. And as I open it, I'm barely surprised that it concerns Grumpy Pants...

So that's their pretext this time...

I check her records for the past month, and... yeah, I can kinda see the problem... She took unsolicited overtime hours, like, a lot. Still in the bounds of legality, but far more than our other developers. And if I read between the lines, the bosses aren't too keen at the idea of paying for all this work they didn't ask for, from a gal they wish to lay off...

I know how it goes... Either they stuff you in a closet without anything to do until you can't stand the boredom, or they overload you so much you end up burning out. Seems to be the latter for Grumpy Pants, 'cause... Yeah, she's been put on three different projects just by herself, no wonder she needs overtime... And yet she sent all three update notes on time this week, as always, though at the very last minute to be still considered 'on time'.

I have no choice but to flag her for the infraction, as petty as it is... But... Maybe I can do something else to help?

I bring up Miss Ségaux's employee profile, looking for inspiration. The direct answer would be for her to accept to conform to the company culture that is so dear to our bosses. I mean, it basically amounts to her being a bit more gregarious and less, well, grumpy? I'm pretty sure I could get her into the building's soccer team if she's the sporty kind. Maybe I could convince her to come to the Friday afterworks? Oh! And the beach party! Yes, the beach party would be ideal! I'm pretty sure she didn't react to my post on the subject, I'll have to convince her directly!

If that fails... Well I'll find another way...

...

Waaaaait a minute...

I check twice, then thrice... Oh my gosh!!

That's just too good! I know what I'll do!

My plan is perfect!

– — –

I stir for the nth time the plastic spoon stuck in my yogurt, watching as the last of my buddies capitulate and leave me all alone at the picnic table. What a bunch of quitters!

Seriously, does this girl even eat!? I know we have the same lunch break today, I even asked her! She told me 'okay'!

*grumble*

I redirect my rage on my phone and the poor innocent denizens of my game. Die, all of you!!

I don't care you're supposed to breed these cute little bunnies! They deserved it!!

...

And now I feel bad for murdering virtual critters... My penance will be dealt through warmed yogurt... and, if this keeps up, overextending my lunch break.

At least I could enjoy the sun a little more than usual, even if the weather's a bit cool today.

How could I think tha—

Ah!

Here she comes at last... practically dragged by Sébastien, our lead graphic designer... Are they friends? I thought he was a pal of one of the bosses?

Grumpy Pants is all sulking, but when our eyes meet she at least has the decency to look embarrassed. Sébastien shepherds her to my table, and she doesn't waste any time gulping down her thin sandwich with a distinct lack of passion.

Why do I want to help this girl again..?

“Hey Sarah.”, Sébastien greets me while sipping at his tea mug. “Sorry if Laurence's a bit late to your date, she has a deplorable tendency to lose track of time when she's working.”

Well, we're both here now, so let's try to salvage this plan...

“It's alright,” I attack with a good-natured laugh, “I have the same problem when I'm in the middle of something! So Laurence, I was thinking, did you see my post about Saturday's beach party?”

“No.”, she answers without looking up from her food. Sébastien elbows her lightly in the ribs, prompting her to elaborate: “I'm not following Sensaz's account, sorry.”

I will avoid pointing out I also sent the info on everybody's Outlook... Twice...

“Buuuut I told her all about it...”, Sébastien provides with a smirk.

Laurence squints harshly at her friend, before finally looking at me: “I'm not really interested.”

Playing hard to catch, huh?

“Oh I can understand if volleyball doesn't tempt you. Not that much into sports I gather?”

“What? No!”, she answers with more spirit than I thought she was capable of, “I've been boxing for years.”

“And she's quite good at it.”, Sébastien adds.

... Really? This meek petite lady is into boxing, of all things..? Well, who knows, maybe she's actually really jacked under her shapeless sweater. I can work with that, at least.

“That's awesome! Hey, you know we have a soccer team, one for each Agoris building? Maybe you could join us, try it for a game or two, see if you like it? Soccer's real good for building endurance!”

She seems to think it up, but seeing her make a moue like that I don't think words will be necessary... This is getting tiresome...

“So team sports aren't really your thing, I get it. At least you know it's there, if you're curious.” And now for my ace in the hole... “Say, do you have anything special planned for this weekend?”

She hesitates a second too long before answering, so I take the risk, jumping on the opportunity and cutting her before she can find a believable excuse:

“Well that's great! It's my birthday tomorrow, and I was thinking about organizing a little get-together at my place for dinner; wanna come?”

She stares at me like a deer caught in the headlights, mouth slightly agape from her aborted words. I can see her plans unraveling in the rapid dance of her eyes, thrown askance by my surprise invitation and the implications behind it.

Icing on the cake, Sébastien reacts just as I hoped: “That's some coincidence, it's her birthday tomorrow too!”

“You don't say!?”, I gush, “Oh we must celebrate together!” Mwahaha, get away from that, Grumpy Pants!

Sébastien continues, oblivious – or maybe just unconcerned – by the look of dawning horror on Laurence's face:

“Yeah we had only a pizza and movie night planned, but it would be great to do a little something more for the occasion!”

“Splendid! I'll expect you both for seven, seven-thirty if that's alright. I do a top-notch phat thai, prepare to be amazed! Oh, and there will be cake, of course.”

Laurence doesn't look so enticed, but I can see by the sagging of her shoulders that victory is at hand.

“... We barely know each other.”, she deadpans in a last-ditch effort.

“Precisely!” I smile wide. “Come on, you've worked here even longer than I, and we share a birthday! It'd be almost weird to not try to know each other better!”

She seems reluctant still, and about to argue, but a soft pat of Sébastien's hand on her shoulder halts her. They share a meaningful look, him smiling reassuringly, her unsure, until she sighs with an air of finality:

“Alright... I'll be there...”

YES! Triple combo!

I try to rein in my self-satisfaction for now, and move to get up, phone in hand:

“Great, I'll just...” I see the time of my screen, “... I'll mail you the address and my number, okay? See you both later!”

I quickly walk back to work, dumping the remains of my half-eaten yogurt in a trash can. I'm a couple minutes late, but it was worth it! Three gals working in close proximity with their birthday on the same day? What were the chances, really?

Hey, as they say, never two without three!

– — o — –

Laurence's View

I'm seething all the way back to my station, barely managing to restrain myself from kicking the uncomfortable chair – the poor thing hasn't done anything to deserve it after all.

Come on, breathe in, breathe out... Calm down... Letting frustration get the better of you has never helped anybody, yourself least of all...

Séb, following just behind me, leans against my desk. I shoot him my meanest stern face:

“You really weren't helping, you know?”

He just shrugs: “We made a pact, remember? I'll not help you shutting yourself in for no good reason. Sarah's a nice girl, if a little pushy, and socializing a bit will do you good. Don't worry, it's just a small party, and I'll be with you all the time.”

“I... Yes, yes, you're right... It's nothing too insurmountable... I can do it.”

“Sure you can. Come on, let's get back to things. And mind the clawing.”

... Sure enough, anxiety made me scratch the armrest with my nails without even noticing. Whatever, Séb is right, let's just...

Ugh... Let's get back to work...

This day really has it against my mood...

First, let's check... yes, Sarah Mokrani's email with her info. Better get it out of the bin, for once this one's important. Then... Ah, the clinic has already answered, good.

...

Are they serious?

How can people be that asinine!?

They want every single unique page of their application as a freaking image file!? And in .jpg format at that!? Do they have no idea how criminally unwieldy this will make things down the road? The code works fine, they say it themselves. Everything meshes perfectly, the basic decision tree, the search algorithm, it all works out, I could just be done with it, so why do they have to pull this absurd joke on me now!? I can't have this now! I... I can't make it like this!

... Okay, this is not productive – as warranted as it is – so let's just... clear my head... think about something else... I'll just... do something else for a bit. I've no shortage of other things to do... It's going to be okay.

No need to cry for something so trivial.

Come on, be pragmatic and practical. First thing, replying to the clinic, make them understand the pros and cons of their demand – even if I fail to identify any objective pros in this case. Be polite, do not call them out directly, be diplomatic, highlight the benefices of a dynamic system. I will give them a chance to understand that they are wrong and I am right, and if they persevere that'll just be their loss.

There, that wasn't so hard, was it?

I can do it.

I will do it.

– — –

The clock ticks on inexorably, bringing about the hour's end far too quickly to my liking.

This knowledge base is coming along nicely, but the client's still not satisfied, and I admit it's in dire need of some polish. I had to prioritize. Now it'll have to wait until Monday... They won't let me do official overtime anymore, and they were exceedingly clear that any work done on-site outside of regular hours will not be paid and is implicitly discouraged. That will not stop me from working at it on my free time.

They'll have to throw me out, because I will not break.

Copying data on external drives isn't allowed, but they never said anything about sending things to yourself through your personal mailbox. Not explicitly at least. Just need to finish uploading...

... Aaaaand it's officially time to clear the premises.

I close everything and shut down the computer. I don't waste time, putting on my jacket and grabbing my bag, striding out of this hellhole without a look back. It's only once outside that I stop, catch my breath, and pull out a cig.

I slowly exhale, savoring the nicotine high as my tension ebbs and the smoke rises to the slightly overcast sky. Clouds came during the afternoon, carried by the shoreward winds. I don't remember the forecast for this weekend, but I'm tempted to hope that these infuriating douches I work for will get a nice long natural shower for their inane volleyball party! Though I suppose if Séb plans on attending...

Ah, speaking of the devil.

I snuff out my half-consumed cigarette and stash it back into its pack. The only thing Séb dislikes more than the smell of cancer sticks is knowing I've taken back the habit these past few months. I can't say his opinion has no merit, though, and considering how much a single pack costs these days...

Together we walk to my car in companionable silence, but as we find ourselves enclosed in the privacy of the vehicle, Séb turns to me with an expression I have a hard time to read – concern, disappointment, disapproval..?

“What is it?”, I snap, maybe a bit too roughly.

“It was nice of Sarah to invite us.”, he simply remarks as I turn the ignition.

“But we already had our thing!”, I pause my rant the time to pull out of the parking spot, pushing the car toward the main road. “She had no right to just bump into things like that! And you encouraged her!”

“It's your twenty-fifth birthday, it's no small thing. Is it so bad to do something different for once, to mark the occasion?”

“I didn't ask for it! We had everything planned!” Is it really so hard to understand!? Why are they doing this to me!?

“Hey, mind the road...”

Oh, uh, right... I didn't respect this right of way...

“I'm sure Sarah has the best intentions”, resumes Séb, “and to be honest, it can't hurt to get to know at least one other coworker. I don't expect you to become best friends with her just from one party, but at least it shows you're willing to try. You know you can do it – you told me so yourself.”

Yes, he's right... I told him... I know I can. I mean, it's at least my fourth party, I know I can do it!

Doesn't mean I have to like it...

I'm saved from voicing my thoughts as we arrive in view of Séb's tram station, and I find a little spot to drop him off. But before he opens the door, I feel his hand softly falling on my right, my fingers still on the gearstick.

It always amuses me, the interesting contrast between his brown skin and my own palish one... And that he takes better care of his nails than I do.

“Hey.”

I know he expects me to look him in the eyes, just as he knows I can't hold it for very long, but for him I'm willing to force it. I stare into his chestnut gaze, and I'm relieved to see the emotions therein are mostly positive. He even smiles a bit.

“It'll be alright, I promise. Now be safe on the way back.”

He exits the car, and I watch him strolling across the road and to the station. I'm so happy to have him. I don't know what I'd do without him...

Probably a whole lot of nothing...

Anyway, let's move out.

– — –

Ah, feels good to be home!

I take care of turning the key twice and leaving it on the door, securely locking the outer world away. Sainfoin, loyal and valiant guardian that he is, soon comes purring at my legs, and earns his customary ear scratches. I discard my sneakers with some vigorous shakes of my feet, minding the roving tomcat, hang my jacket, let my bag fall to the floor, and tiptoe swiftly to the kitchen. Water left to boil, I hunt for my fluffy slippers, pulling them from their hiding place under the couch. There's still some light outside, but I bring down the rolling shutters, preserving myself from any prying eyes. The electric kettle has done its job during that time, and I pour myself a nice big cup of strong black tea. Fully equipped, I settle in front of the telly and power my PS4, while Sainfoin settles naturally on my lap. Phantom Pain launches automatically, allowing me to claim my daily bonus. I don't care doing much more most of the time, I've stopped playing seriously last year, but right now I think I'm in the mood for some fine virtual warfare.

I fall back into a familiar, almost automatic pattern. Long-range sniper rifles are my tool of predilection, for an expeditious and precise excision of the enemy mooks, though I never use lethal rounds. It's a bit more of a challenge, and to be honest, I can't help feeling a bit guilty at blasting squishy skulls apart, even simulated ones.

My growling stomach pulls me out of my gaming trance. I've been playing for a lot longer than I was planning to... It's high time to do something about supper – to the clear displeasure of the cat sprawled on my legs.

Not really feeling like cooking, I put a water-filled pot on the hotplate for some fusilli pasta and open the cupboard, tracing a finger along the rows and columns of little cans of tuna salads. I had Niçoise yesterday, so for this evening I'll go with the Mexican.

I time the pasta with my phone, while idly browsing AO3 – nothing to catch my fancy tonight, unfortunately. The drained-off fusilli go into a bowl with the tuna, and I start attacking the dish right on the kitchen counter.

To think that tomorrow I'll be outside, not in my home, not eating my own meal, surrounded by strangers... How is that a birthday celebration? Though whining about that is a bit hypocritical of me... I had something planned, with Séb and Sainfoin and pizza, for starters. And if I had wished for a 'proper' birthday party, I could have gone bothering my sister, or our parents, instead of staying here. I didn't, so now I... Well, I have to deal with it.

I know it's just the anxiety talking... There's no reason I couldn't have a good time. Séb will be there. I already met Sarah, and she's... niceish?

Urgh..! I don't want to think about this now... I've barely noticed my already bland dinner as it was going down...

You know what, Sainfoin? It's my birthday in a couple hours, I'll just give myself an early gift!

I discard the dishes in the sink and go back to the living room, cat on my heels. I pull out my SCART adapter and connect my old and trusty original PS1, religiously kept in prime conditions during all these years we spent together. The game is next, the very same I used as proof to my father that videogames could be an art form and worthy of being bought for his daughter: Final Fantasy IX. Since that day I've completed the game eighteen times, once each year, and I'm about to embark on the nineteenth.

I love this game.

Back to the couch after hitting the power button, Sainfoin lounging faithfully at my side, I bask in quasi-orgasmic glee at the sound of the one true PS1 startup intro...

I already feel better, just listening to this delicious music... With a massive dose of oxytocin bathing my brain, tomorrow's ordeal already feels a lot less daunting! It's just a small social gathering after all – come on Laurence, what's the worst that could happen?

...

I just had to jinx it, huh..?