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rose-of-gabriel · 5 years

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Another Life

Happy Holidays to @riderunlove , my RebelCaptain Secret Santa giftee! I had fun with your promt, and I hope you like it.

Prompt: Alternate first meeting

The base has been pretty empty for the past few months. Saw’s growing paranoia makes him more and more eager to keep troops in the field as long as possible. Not Jyn, of course. No, Jyn’s been under stricter surveillance than ever, and it’s driving her kriffing insane. When Saw had first begun his downward spiral, she’d at least still been free to wander about the islands. That leash has now shrunk to the base and the abandoned comm tower a mile to the west.

So when Saw tells her he’ll be gone for a few days, she’s actually quite thrilled. She’s not going to do anything crazy, just stretch her legs a little bit. She swims to the far islands in the morning, spends the days training and working on her code replicator, then usually spends the evenings surfing the HoloNet. That’s what she’s doing when Saw’s encrypted signal comes in. He’s coming home.

And he’s not alone.

0o0o0o0

Cassian had expected to be blindfolded the whole ride. Draven warned him of Saw Gerrera’s increasing paranoia. High command wasn’t oblivious to his recent contention with the rest of the Rebellion, and it had somehow become Cassian’s job to keep the relationship from breaking completely. Not that he isn’t up to the task.

Gerrera doesn’t tell Cassian where they are or when they’ll be arriving, but Cassian gives it his best guess. He notes how long they’re in hyperspace, the level of resistance they experience when entering the atmosphere, and begins to hypothesize where Gerrera could be hiding.

0o0o0o0

Jyn’s crouched on the high ridge overlooking the landing pad. It’s not where Saw would want her – he’d expect her to be waiting at the entrance of the base– but she figures the progress she’s made on the new codes will be enough to placate him. She’s suddenly very glad for her vantage point when Saw marches off the ship accompanied.

Human male, early twenties, dark features, and a slender build. Standard military slacks and jacket, and an empty thigh holster, meaning Saw already searched and disarmed him. The man follows respectfully behind Saw, who stops suddenly when he sees that Jyn isn’t waiting for him. He scans the terrain, and the man behind him does the same. When they spot her, Jyn rises from her crouch and throws herself over the hillside. There’s some satisfaction in the way the man tenses before she lands steadily on her feet. Saw doesn’t flinch.

“This is Sergeant Cassian Andor. Rebel Intelligence.” No hello. No how were things while I was gone? All business, as Jyn would expect. “He’s here on affairs business.” He’s being vague, which grates on Jyn’s nerves to no end.

“The job’s done.” She says, referring to the codes he’d ordered her to finish for their trip to Bespin in a few weeks.

“Good.” He growls, moving past her into the base.

Jyn allows herself a brief moment to study the Sergeant. His chiseled jaw and dark eyes make him rather attractive. Makes sense that they would want him in intelligence; charming informants and seducing Imperial officers. He’s aware of her gaze and raises his chin, just barely, as if to challenge her. Jyn wants to laugh. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

0o0o0o0

Cassian guesses she’s at least 16 years old. Her short stature makes her look deceptively young, but her eyes show the truth. She’s a soldier, and Cassian’s willing to bet she has the scars to prove it. She inclines her head toward the base entrance, wanting him to walk in front of her so he can be monitored.

He goes willingly, straining his ear to pick up the sound of her footsteps. They’re silent, another sign of her training. Cassian’s mind flashes to memories of himself at that age and he’s a little saddened. Gerrera leads him to a standard briefing room, sharply turning on the girl before she’s even in the room.

“Contact Yari to confirm the squad’s arrival for tomorrow.”

She doesn’t argue, but Cassian notices the way her muscles tense ever so slightly. Issues with authority, perhaps? Regardless, she disappears down another corridor that Cassian only has second to memorize before Gerrera is pushing him to the far end of the briefing room. He revs up am encrypted hologram that he and Draven had been reviewing back on base.

“Alright, Sergeant.” He says, clearly with little respect for the rank. “Let us begin.”

0o0o0o0

Yari confirms that they’ll be in early tomorrow, local time. Jyn’s glad. As much as she reveled in being unsupervised, the silence of the empty base was starting to get to her. Saw and Sergeant Andor have been going over plans for almost two hours and while Jyn’s dying to listen in, she doesn’t dare. Last time she’d been caught doing that, Saw had confiscated her code replicator, her data pad, and her batons for three weeks.

Instead she heads to the kitchen, double checking that they have enough rations for when Yari’s crew arrives. She starts preparing a meager dinner when Saw and the Sergeant appear in the doorway. Neither look worse for wear, just frustrated with one another.

Saw grips the Sergeant’s shoulder and all but shoves him into the room. “Eyes.” He says simply, which means eyes on this one. Monitor everything. Don’t let him go anywhere or talk to anyone he’s not supposed to and don’t let your guard down.

“You should eat something.” She says as Saw starts toward his cabin.

He makes a grunt of acknowledgment which she knows means he’ll be recluse for the rest of the night. The Sergeant, Cassian, approaches the stove slowly as if to show that he’s not a threat.

“Can I assist you with anything?” Definitely an Outer Rim accent. Maybe the Oplovis sector?

“Bowls are in the top right cupboard.” She says without turning around.

He reaches them with ease and Jyn appreciates his height for the first time. He hands her a bowl and she unceremoniously slops the “stew” into it.

“Probably not as good as Alliance cafeteria food, but we manage.”

Cassian grins, almost bashfully. “No, thank you. I’m sure it’s great. “

“It’s not.” Jyn takes her own portion and perches herself on a kitchen stool while Cassian leans against the counter.

She watches him take a bite. He doesn’t try and hide his reaction. “You’re right. That’s pretty bad.”

“I’d like to see you do better.”

He shrugs. “I could, probably.” Jyn raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been told I’m not a bad cook.”

Jyn scoffs. “Were the culinary arts part of your intelligence training?”

“Not officially.” He says, prompting her to inquire more about his upbringing. He shares his personal experiences, she slowly learns to trust him. She opens up and without meaning to she gives him some sort of useful information on Saw or the Partisans or whatever.

Instead, Jyn downs the rest of her slop in a few heady gulps. Cassian blinks and what might almost be a smile teases his lips.

0o0o0o0

Cassian barely gets a moment alone with her after that. Gerrera summons him into the briefing room first thing the next morning, which she’s again barred from participating in. Then one of the Partisan groups that had been off world arrives back on base and everything descends into chaos. It’s a familiar chaos, though, much like how HQ operates. One thing Cassian notes, however, is the lack of droids anywhere on base. He’s more than a little shocked, but guesses it has something to do with Gerrera’s mounting paranoia.

It’s after another grueling meeting with Gerrera and some of his engineers that Cassian sees her again – Jyn. He’d learned her name after some Partisans greeted her upon their arrival. It’s a fitting name, though he can’t fathom why he thinks that, or why he even cares.

Without preamble, she cocks her head toward the main entrance and he follows her to the surface. It’s his first time being outside in the nearly 48 hours he’s been here. There’s a group of Partisans who all seem to be training together, but Jyn takes him in another direction, up a ridge and around the hillside. He sees why she did. They have a much better vantage point from up here. Two Partisans, a Chiss woman and Lowen, are sparring, surrounded by their peers.

Jyn simply watches them, so Cassian does the same, wondering what she wants him to see. After a while, she asks. “Who’s going to win?”

Cassian scrutinizes each fighter, the way the Chiss woman plants her feet too heavily and throws too much of her body weight into each attack. “The Lowen.” He says.

Jyn nods like she agrees; doesn’t ask why he thinks that or ask him to elaborate. She’s probably already made the same observations. Ultimately they’re right, and the Chiss woman is pushed out of the ring. She’s cordial about it, telling some joke that has the rest of the group laughing.

Cassian’s caught off guard by the smile tugging at Jyn’s lips. She notices him staring and rolls her eyes. After a moment she admits, “I used to spar with them. Almost every day.”

“Why’d you stop?”

Her grin widens. “It got boring, winning all the time.”

Cassian genuinely laughs, and they stare at each other for a moment, clearly shocked. He composes himself, Draven’s warning whirring through his mind. He can feel Jyn’s eyes on him, but when he turns to look at her, she’s looking out toward the horizon. She considers something for a moment, then turns with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“You a decent swimmer?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll be outside your room at midnight.”

He has no idea what she’s planning, but Cassian knows he shouldn’t take any part in it. It’s vital that he remain in good standing with Saw, and sneaking around in the dead of night certainly isn’t going to achieve that.

Still, when she knocks on his door that night, he follows.

0o0o0o0

For an intelligence officer, Cassian doesn’t ask a lot of questions. He follows her silently to the mouth of the cave, down the hillside to the shoreline. He does, however, hesitate when she begins shedding her outer layers. She raises her eyebrows, daring him to voice his suspicions. Instead, he copies her, losing his jacket, trousers, and boots. She holds out her hand and he turns them over to her. There’s a large boulder back from the shoreline that she uses to hide their gear, just in case anyone goes for a nightly stroll.

She wades into the water and points the nearest island. “That’s where we’re going. Keep the moon to your left. It’s only about a mile out.”

“What’s out there?” he says, rooted in place on the beach.

Maybe she’s asking too much of him, to override his Rebellion programming, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try.

“Just trust me, okay?”

Cassian sighs, and they both recognize that it’s a ridiculous thing to ask a spy. Still, he doesn’t retreat, doesn’t protest, and that stirs something in Jyn’s stomach she doesn’t know how to name.

0o0o0o0

Cassian’s lungs burn from the exertion, but he finds himself relishing in it. The last time he swam must have been a few months ago, during a botched mission on Mon Calamari. He tries to keep up with Jyn, who’s gliding effortlessly through the water as if she’s a part of it.

The island they arrive at is slightly smaller than the base, though the most noticeable difference is the massive comm tower laying on its side. There’s something awe inspiring about seeing the massive structure left to rot in the middle of the sea.

“Hasn’t been operational since the Clone Wars.” Jyn says. “Thing’s been gutted of any useful tech. Now it’s just a big karking playground.”

Cassian nods and she starts up the beach toward the base of the tower. The grass tickles his feet and for an inexplicable moment, he’s filled with some sort of childlike excitement. He gets a grip as they come up on the structure. Jyn crawls up the side with an ease that makes him stupidly competitive. His muscles wine, but his heart is beating with newfound fervor. At the top of the structure, Jyn pulls herself up and swings her legs out over the sides. Cassian does the same. He’s sitting closer to her than he’d meant to, but she doesn’t show any signs of discomfort, so he stays put.

She catches him looking again and sighs. “Don’t look at me, idiot. Look at that.” She gestures out toward the ocean.

Cassian does look, and he’s speechless.

0o0o0o0

Jyn remembers the first time she’d come up here. It was a few years after Saw had brought her to Wrea; she couldn’t have been older than twelve. She’d nearly slipped at least twice, and the heights had made her dizzy at first. But once she got up here, above the whole world where nothing could touch her, it was all worth it.

Cassian’s eyes widen like they’re trying to take in all of the horizon. He takes in the slightest breath and Jyn thinks he finally looks his age, liberated from the shadows of war behind his eyes.

After a few moments he glances at her and concedes. “Alright, this is pretty amazing.”

Jyn grins, triumphant. She lays back on the rungs of the tower and stares up at the stars. Stardust echoes in her mind, but she banishes it to the dark bunker where she keeps everything else. Cassian remains sitting, appreciating the view. There’s a comfortable silence between them, interrupted only by the sounds of waves far, far beneath them.

“You’ll be gone at week’s end.” She says, suddenly.

Cassian turns toward her, but keeps his eyes down. “Yeah.” There’s that almost-smile again. “Unless Saw kills me and throws my body in the ocean.”

“He’d torture you first.” She means it as a joke, but there’s too much truth, and the words fall heavily from her lips.

Cassian gives a pitiful little laugh and goes back to looking out at the ocean. She stares up at his face and wonders what he might have been like in another life. Maybe a farmer or a shop keeper, but she doubts it. He strikes her as someone that always needs to be moving. Maybe a traveling salesmen. She’s laughs to herself.

Cassian raises an eyebrow, and for some reason, she admits, “Just imagining what you’d be like in another life.”

Cassian scoffs. “You think about that kind of thing?”

“You don’t?”

Cassian looks away for so long she thinks he’s done with this conversation. Then he says, “I’d be involved in politics, probably.”

Jyn nods. “I’d be a farmer.”

Cassian chuckles. “No you wouldn’t.”

“I would. It’s a peaceful life.”

She has no idea whether or not she’d enjoy farming, or if she’d even be good at it, but it’s the only life she can remember before this one. Well, she remember her father’s research, her mother’s experiments and notes, but that’s locked deep inside the bunker.

Cassian brings her out of her head, echoing her words. “A peaceful life.”

She suspects it’s not something either of them know, but maybe one day they’ll come to know it. On another world, on some other distant shore, with the waves beneath them and the stars above.

#rebelcaptainsecretsanta #rogue one #star wars #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #fanfiction

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your-dietician · 3 years

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2021 NHL Draft Profile: Scott Morrow

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/nhl/2021-nhl-draft-profile-scott-morrow/

2021 NHL Draft Profile: Scott Morrow

One thing I like looking into is a prospect who puts up ridiculous numbers in unconventional leagues for the top draft prospects. Last year, I looked at Veeti Miettinen — who chose to stay in Finland’s junior level last year to maintain his NCAA eligibility. He was clearly too good for the level, and set records for goals in the league.

In this year’s draft, Scott Morrow may be the next example of a highly talented prospect whose draft stock is hurt by his choice to play in a lesser league. Even if that choice was for logical (if unconventional) reasoning, the lack of certainty to know just how good he is against tougher competition can create some doubt about just how good he really is.

That’s led to the opinions on Morrow in the scouting community being pretty divided. Some scouting people say he could wind up being one of the highest ceiling defensemen in this draft, others see too many flaws that were already evident against high schoolers let alone more difficult competition. So is he a highly underrated defender who would be a first round lock if he played in the USHL all year, or is his stock actually inflated by playing against easier competition?

Personally, I was not able to watch any of his high school games, but I was able to see two of his playoff games in the USHL during the finals against the powerhouse Chicago Steel. That doesn’t give me great context to see the differences between how he looked between two different leagues and levels of competition, but I at least know how he looked in the highest level he played.

THE BASICS: STATS AND CONTEXT

Unlike Miettinen, Morrow is not small: he’s 6’2” and 192 lbs, and as a right shot defenseman. He also had some silly numbers as a defenseman: 48 points in 30 games. That’s not just the best for a defenseman, that’s the second most points in the entire Minnesota high school league among any player — forward or defenseman. And the guy who finished ahead of Morrow played in 19 more games. Morrow’s 1.6 points per game pace was first in the league for players who played in at least 15 games… by a lot. The closest player to him had 1.31 points per game.

The big caveat is that it’s all against high school competition, which will inevitably make you question how good he might be but high schools in some states are not the worst league or level that players are drafted from. Some examples of current NHL players who spent half or more of their draft year in US high school include Casey Mittelstadt, Ryan Donato, Nick Bjugstad, Kevin Hayes, Brock Nelson, and Jake Gardiner.

Morrow did get into six USHL games during Fargo’s playoff run, where he had no points but by all accounts did look good. But this was a year where the pandemic made it harder to see players in person and on video (in the case of someone playing in, say, high school rinks). All draft eligible players this played fewer games than a normal year, some didn’t play at all. As a result, there is more uncertainty around most prospects this draft than usual. More than ever, this year’s rankings seem to favour players who actually played in more games and in more high profile leagues. If Morrow played half or more of his season in the USHL, he’d probably be ranked higher even if he didn’t have as many points.

But the thing is, Morrow reportedly chose to stay in high school in large part to stay closer to home for family reasons and because of the pandemic — the two are related but not necessarily the same. It wasn’t because he just wanted to avoid harder competition.

Here are his draft rankings, as of writing this:

Bob McKenzie: 36th (mid-season rankings)

Will Scouch: 23rd

Scott Wheeler: 33rd

Elite Prospects: 52nd

Dobber Prospects: 22nd

Smaht Scouting: 23rd

THE GOOD: THE OFFENSE (ALL OF IT)

Simply put, Scott Morrow has a lot of exciting offensive skill for a defenseman. If you can think of a way that you want a defenseman to be good offensively, Morrow is probably good at it.

Skating? He has a great top speed, he has quick acceleration, he can maneuver suddenly and in tight spaces, he has very sound skating mechanics, and he uses crossovers to gain speed in all situations. The latter also helps his evasiveness, where defenders can’t square up to him to shut him down because he’s constantly changing his skating angles.

Here’s what Josh Tessler from Smaht Scouting says about his skating:

Morrow’s skating is quite strong. His foot extension is long, which allows him to take fewer strides when in transition. The recovery is not too wide, which is critical for strong mobility. His edges and crossovers are the main drivers for his acceleration and come in handy when navigating/stick-handling in the offensive zone.

Here are some good clips to showcase his skating in the USHL finals:

Here’s some clips of Scott Morrow @FargoForce (#24) from last night’s game

Looking like his usual self displaying high-level offensive skill, he actually played forward for a few shifts (clip 3)

He needs to clean up his defensive game, but he has top-4 potential#2021NHLDraft pic.twitter.com/HuEPGHPRk0

— Dylan Krill (@dylan_krill) May 23, 2021

Puck handling? He is very clever with how he handles the puck. He uses a lot of fakes, dekes, shoulder dips, and other forms of deception to freeze defenders and make it harder for them to check him or the puck. It also helps him back them deeper into the offensive zone so he can get closer for a more dangerous chance, or to bait them into attacking so he can skate around them.

Passing? I’m just going to quote Will Scouch (written article at McKeen’s Hockey here that’s paywalled):

The real magic is his skill to open new passing lanes, and his ability to drive offense through playmaking and stepping into dangerous areas himself. People can question his choice of playing location, but this is a tall defender that dances around on the ice in ways I don’t see many defenders trying anywhere and having strong technique when getting creative. His projectability would only concern me if he was driving up the ice with little in the way of skill, speed, deception and mobility, which some prep players can get away with, but Morrow consistently displayed talents that stood head and shoulders above his competition when it came to evading pressure and moving pucks.

Even when dialing his motor back a bit, Morrow fundamentally has great pass vision and can spot options quickly, sending hard, crisp passes to recipients all over the ice, even if not in the offensive zone. Morrow can lead defenses into thinking he’s a shooting threat, only to quickly send a pass to an open linemate across the offensive zone and play like that indicates that Morrow is not only a good prep player, but rather a smart and crafty hockey player with projectable skills and processing ability.

You can also watch Will’s full video on Scott Morrow here:

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You can see this in any clips of his from high school, where he just looks like a cat playing with its food.

Working on a Scott Morrow piece for @EPRinkside (coming soon). Check out this sequence on the blueline.

-Baits, plans, and walks the first defender -Moves into the dotted lines -Inside deke to open space in the hashmarks -Loses control but slot drive creates a HDC pic.twitter.com/jeB3U7W0tX

— Daniel Gee (@DanielGScouting) February 20, 2021

Offensive transitions? His combination of skating, puck handling and passing helps him excel here as well. He uses the same tricks and deception, plus skating and mobility, to evade pressure and get the puck up the ice and into the offensive zone with control. You can see some examples of that in the clips above.

Here’s what Daniel Gee from EP Rinkside (paywalled) says about his transition offense:

Morrow is a precise passer who can process breakouts and transport the puck with ease. This ability makes him adaptable in scenarios that require snap decision-making, using both the forehand and backhand to facilitate urgent north-to-south transitions. He incorporates the boards, can saucer the puck at any distance, incorporate one-touch breaks, and is supremely calm as forecheckers converge. With this ability, Morrow is somewhat of a dual-threat when it comes to transporting the puck up the ice. While he will have to adjust at higher levels to find a better balance between simple and dynamic, he should be a successful transition player in the NCAA and beyond

The one thing he doesn’t really have is a slap shot from the point. He’s not going to be a guy who rips a hard one timer or snipes a goal from the point. He does have a good wrist shot, and he uses it more when he can get it off in close than from the point. That may be an issue for him at higher levels if his shot does not improve enough to be a credible threat, and better competition can just protect against his passing while ignoring his shot — this is what’s known in hockey circles as the Mitch Marner Dilemma(TM).

I can attest to most of the above points and quotes from what I saw in his USHL playoff games. He was one of, if not the best skater on the ice. I don’t think I ever saw him skate in a straight line when it wasn’t a race for a loose puck. With the puck he was a lot of fun to watch. He did help a lot with Fargo’s transition and did create some good scoring chances, even if he didn’t get any points.

Virtually every scout will admit that Scott Morrow is a good offensive defensemen. There may be some debate over how good, because of the level of competition he faced most of the year creates some doubt when projecting him to the NHL in the future. But everyone will acknowledge that he has a lot of upside from his offense alone.

THE FLAWS: INCONSISTENT DEFENSE

Now comes the contentious part of Scott Morrow. Even people who really like Scott Morrow will point to his defense as his biggest area of weakness. The debate that comes up is about the how’s and how much of his defensive flaws.

For example, in a few scouting profiles I’ve read about Morrow, they remark that he’s very aggressive defensively — both against transitions through the neutral zones, and in his own zone. But others, like Will Scouch in the same report I linked above, remark that statistically and visually he appears very passive on how he involves himself defensively.

What I can infer from that, combined with what I saw in his USHL games, is that he is very raw in his defensive ability and inconsistent in his effort. The games I watched, he did make some nice defensive plays in the neutral zone and defensive zone. But he did also seem indecisive and passive at other times. I chalked that up to him still adjusting to a much more difficult league, against the best team in the league in a playoff finals no less. But to read from Will Scouch — who is a big fan of Morrow’s and ranks him among the highest of any scouting people — that he was also noticeably passive even in high school is more worrisome.

Here is a good quote from Daniel Gee at EP Rinkside that I think also explains a bit of the differences of opinions on his defense:

What’s interesting is when Morrow faces transitional attacks and is unable to halt their momentum in the neutral zone. He’ll show passively, using his backwards crossovers carefully to move laterally in position. He actively keeps his feet more stable once the attacker is in range, using his stick to direct his opponents.

Morrow could do a much better job of driving his opponents to the sideboards. When he actively reaches and tries to poke the puck away, he limits his overall mobility and adaptability, allowing better puck handlers to beat him wide. He tends to move laterally but actually needs to collapse more and occupy his opponent’s attack-lanes better. Morrow also needs to be cognizant of his body positioning — facing away from the play is a recipe for disaster.

My takeaway from is that his defending is kind of all over the place. He has good technique and the tools to be a good defenseman, but his ability to take all of that and use it can be inconsistent and not always the most effective. On the one hand, that is a bit worrisome, but on the other hand it is also something that he could learn with good coaching and development.

It could be bad habits he learned from just being so much better than everyone else in high school that can be ironed out and improved over time. But many top prospects will never improve their defense enough to be average or above average defenders in the NHL once they’re facing the best of the best, even if their offense is good enough for them to excel at the highest level. This is the big worry with Morrow, and how high or low a scout ranks him overall is probably a good indication of how worried they are about that.

OVERALL ASSESSMENT

There are two prospects who Bob McKenzie has ranked in the second round that I am really excited about and hope either fall to the Leafs (unlikely), or Dubas acquires a higher pick somehow to take them. Scott Morrow is one, and Logan Stankoven is the other. I am all aboard the Morrow hype train.

In the second round, where Morrow seems likely to be taken, you’re likely looking at a guy who has upside… but also has noticeable flaws. The flaw could be that their skating, size, skill, defense, health, or something else significant just doesn’t seem good enough. Alex DeBrincat fell to the second because people were worried about his size and offense translating to a bigger, faster, and stronger league. Scott Morrow has some big question marks about his defense, which is why he may fall to the second round. He may also has some greater general doubt because he was not playing in a high profile league this year and because of general uncertainty caused by the pandemic.

But for me, I always swing on upside in the second round. Morrow has the offensive profile that could carry him to the NHL even if his defense always remains below average. As Leafs fans, we’re very familiar with the likes of Jake Gardiner and Morgan Rielly. But if he has that upside and enough tools to potentially develop into a better all-round defenseman? That’s exciting to me.

Next year he is committed to playing in the NCAA at UMass, which has a good program for developing defensemen: Zac Jones, Mario Ferraro, and maybe you’ve heard of this guy named Cale Makar? It’s a good school to take someone with his tools, help him refine his overall game, and turn him into an impact NHL defenseman after a couple of years.

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decimatoroflight · 4 years

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Book of Darkness: Chapter 9

Decimator of Light: Book of Darkness Chapter 9: New Clothes

To Cin’s surprise, all the food in the Darkness was tastier than practically anything he had ever had on Earth – which instantly also made him guilty, since his father was a chef. But the experience was so interesting he managed to put that thought aside for the time being.

The food looked roughly the same -- what appeared to be meat, grains, vegetables, fruits -- but they didn’t seem to be the exact type of things that grew back at home, and like everything else in this place, every slice of food looked like some sort of painting that belonged in a museum. But he was so hungry, the beauty didn’t stop him; in fact, he hardly could pay any attention to the appearance to the food or anything around him once it was in his mouth. Whenever anything touched his tongue, it was almost like he was waking up taste buds that had been asleep his whole life, ones that could tell his brains about flavors he’d never had before on earth, with the smells being equally new but entrancing. His whole head started to spin slightly just from the flavors alone; he had to close his eyes to sit and truly savor what was going on in his mouth with every chew. And yet, as he ate, all four Squadron members were constantly apologizing for not taking him anywhere fancier than the place across the street from the “Squadron Hall,” the place they’d been talking in and that Cin had thrown up in.

According to Sterk, all Squadron members lived there, sort of like an apartment for them, though anyone was allowed into the big area with the bar and bubbles so that all people could come and give support to the various Squadrons or simply to just have fun. Even though they were having a big party because of Cin’s arrival, apparently, it wasn’t exactly uncommon for there to be a party going on pretty much any night that a Squadron was home instead of on some mission. Cin liked the sound of it – it made the Zero Squadron seem a little less intimidating and overly-serious to him.

After Cin finished eating, which took a while as he stuffed any food he could reach into his mouth until he felt ready to throw up again, he was led back towards the Zero Squadron’s corridor, though this time, through a back entrance. There was a secret hallways hidden behind a painting on the back half of the beautiful building, through what looked to be the image of some being of Darkness protecting some humans from some sort of ultra-bright explosion. Only, it wasn’t that the painting was moved aside and the hallway was visible. It was just a wall like everything else. Cin didn’t get a good look at it; he was pushed right through, and walked right through the wall as though it hadn’t been there.

Cin had to blink several times and look behind him again and again, wondering if that had actually happened or if he was so tired he was hallucinating, but in the end, he couldn’t decide which it was. Either way, he ended up in a corridor with different stairways that seemed to lead off in eight different directions. The Squadron members led him up the flight that seemed to go to the very top, which confused Cin, as he remembered simply entering a door on the first floor when he first got there, but sure enough, when they opened the door, they were back in the same place he’d been before. Same table with a cube hovering above it, same cushions on the floor, same doors with the Squadron members’ faces on them, Tishina even still leaning against the same wall they’d left him against when they’d left. Cin was definitely confused, but decided he must have been considerably more exhausted than he thought he should be for someone who had passed out twice in the same day. So, when Sterk suggested that Cin get some rest, that idea sounded really appealing.

As Cin started to head towards Tishina’s room and looked at Tishina, who was supposedly still watching the Versabic, the teen felt a little strange. Cin felt as though he had let someone down. The feeling only doubled when he noticed Tishina’s bored, unfocused eyes lift just enough to focus on him for a moment. Once again, they filled with pity, and Cin felt a gnawing urge to speak to him, to ask what was wrong, why he always looked at Cin in such a way -- but Cin was pulled into Tishina’s room by Veder, and Tishina’s tattooed head tilted out of view as the man’s as his eyes drifted back to the cube as though he had never given Cin so much as a glance.

“Do not mind Tishina,” Veder assured him once he closed the door behind them and noticed Cin’s concerned expression. “He is not very traditional in his approach to people, but he is amazingly proficient at his work. And he is not one to get angry over something as simple as using his room...”

“Why didn’t he go eat with us, though?” Cin asked, eyes still locked on the closed door, trying to picture that man still staring at the cube. He hadn’t even been bothered by it until he had seen Tishina again. “I mean, doesn’t he get hungry? Isn’t he tired?”

“He shall eat eventually. He is not one to do things outside his personal pace,” Veder replied with a smile. “Please, do not worry yourself in his behalf. Tishina is more than capable of taking care of himself. Like Frio, he was once a Castigator, after all.”

“A what?” Cin’s curiosity was piqued. As much as he hated to admit it, he was still curious about Frio’s reaction earlier, and if she had been whatever the heck a ‘Castigator’ was, then maybe it had something to do with it. Not to mention, he was desperate for any information he could get on Tishina.

“Perhaps it would be best if you rested for the time being, Cin?” Veder chuckled a bit, motioning to the bed Cin had awoken in about two hours earlier.

Cin barely managed to bite back the urge to groan. “I mean, yeah, sure, I guess...but could you at least explain it before I do?” he bargained, climbing into the bed and pulling the abnormally warm covers onto himself as a sign of compliance, but it still felt as though he had only gotten up three minutes ago and was already climbing back in. The desperation in his voice was clear, however, and with a sigh and a gentle smile, Veder sat down in the chair beside the desk and explained.

“It is the title of a position, much like being a member of a Squadron. The official title of a Squadron member is actually ‘Vizard’.”

“So you guys are magic!” Cin sat up in triumph, but Veder just gave an entertained chuckle and motioned for the boy to lay back down.

“Vizard. Not wizard. Because we must disguise ourselves in the Gray World to be able to do the work that is needed there. Regardless, Castigators are in groups called Teams, rather than Squadrons, and their work lies not in keeping matters on the Gray World peaceful, but gathering information from the Oth- er...the L-Light,” he had to choke the last word out as though it made him a little sick inside, but Cin did vaguely appreciate the effort. “It is considerably more dangerous and involves considerably more physical prowess and combat. It involves much more deception and secrecy than even we do in the Squadrons. So, I think you see how someone as mysterious as Tishina did well in this sort of job,” He lifted an eyebrow at Cin, clearly waiting for agreement, and Cin did have to nod. Tishina did seem like someone who could easily keep any secret in the world.

“Now, if that has satisfied your curiosity, Cin, I must ask that you sleep. You will truly need your rest, as when you awaken, we will attempt to help you use your Ability. Would that be alright?” He asked the boy.

Cin nodded, and Veder chuckled, standing up to give Cin a solid pat on the shoulder before exiting the room and closing the door behind him, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts. Cin turned away from the door and hugged a pillow close to his chest. He frowned. Frio had once been a sort of fighting spy? He would have thought that Sterk had been, seeing all of his scars...but then again, now that he thought about it, Frio had quite a few scars, herself. Tishina, however, looked perfectly unharmed, and he had not shown any signs of what his Ability was when kidnapping Cin. But they had both been Castigators (why did that word sound so intimidating?), and Tishina and Frio happened to be the two Cin felt closest two. Was there some reason for that? Maybe Tishina would show his Ability during the training that Veder mentioned. Maybe then, Cin would have another piece to add to this weird puzzle.

With these thoughts swirling around in his mind, Cin drifted off to sleep, never even hearing the beginnings of the excited conversation amongst the Squadron members outside the room.

“Enatha! Enatha, look! It’s beautiful...!!” he gasped in awe, looking out of an oval mirror. His face was so full of excitement, she couldn’t help but laugh lightly as she approached him.

“What is it...?” She asked gently, but gasped when she saw what her friend had been talking about. It was a shape, a large orb, and around it, all the elements were flowing. Water flowed gracefully into wind, which, in turn, flowed into an electrical storm, which eased itself into fire, which was somehow avoiding burning the earth beside it, which was not dirtying the small specks of powdered metal next to it, and the metal in turn solidified, then turned back to speckles and glittered back into the wind. As the elements swirled, faster and faster, the two forces within the circle were flowing as well. Light and darkness, flowing in and out of each other like two fish in some sort of ritualistic dance, until finally, it glowed a bright, shocking and beautifully balanced gray. The elements then closed in, and with a loud burst and a wave of light, the gray circle became a fresh planet.

“This...it is amazing...” Enatha said quietly, tears forming in her eyes. “Did we...? Is this because of...?”

“We did it!!” Alanore cried, turning towards his friend and grasping her hands. “We made this! A product of Light and Darkness -- it was us, Enatha! This is what our people can do together! We created a whole new dimension, but now...now we have a planet we created by WILL! Maybe...maybe we can help life flourish on it as well!”

“But what should it be called...?” Enatha asked, unable to stop her smile. “A name would make explaining this much simpler...”

“Name?” Alanore asked, pulling back. “Name... I know! It was gray for a minute, wasn’t it? The Gray World! The first planet in this solar system of our dimension to have life! The Gray World!”

“Perfect,” Enatha nodded, smiling gently.

Alanore suddenly frowned, and his white eyes looked dreadfully worried.

“What happened!?” he demanded, looking at Enatha with panic. “What’s going on!?”

“Hm?” Enatha only blinked at him, confused. “What are you talking about, Alanore?”

“You...you faded for a second! It was like...like you weren’t there for a little bit! What’s going on!? Are you alright? Is this normal!? Do you need medical attention!? Do-”

“Shh,” Enatha laughed a bit, pressing her pointer finger gently to Alanore’s lips. “Calm down. I am fine. I am sure you simply imagined it.”

The man seemed to melt a little at her touch, his cheeks suddenly turning a little pink. She pulled her finger away, and Alanore nodded weakly, smiling down at his friend as a hand drifted to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry. Sorry...I must be a little tired, I suppose,” He laughed at himself. “Sorry, just...the idea of you disappearing -- that scared me so much...!” he put a hand on his heart like it literally ached.

Enatha laughed gently at this as well, as though finding this idea absurd, but when she turned away from him, her eyes stung with tears. She felt that the inevitable was coming closer and closer every day. The least she could do was try and hide this from Alanore, at least until their project was done. It was all she could ever really do for him, all she could ever really be to him -- a lab partner.

And only a temporary one, at that.

Cin awoke with a start, feeling the door opening. It made no form of sound and he was over ten feet away, but he could feel the air being pushed away from the door. Quickly, knowing right away what the dream had caused, Cin wiped his tears away while extending his other arm, so that when Pila peeked her head in, he looked as though he had just awoken from a pleasant dream and was stretching instead.

“Ah, Cin, you’re awake!” she said with surprised excitement as she entered the room. She had several boxes in her arms and had to use her shoulder to open the door. She quickly toppled all the boxes onto the yet-to-be-slept-in bed beside Cin and then plopped herself down next to them. She seemed the most casual around him out of all the Squadron members. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” Cin said, his eyes still on the boxes. They were of various shapes and sizes, the largest big enough for a basketball, and the smallest about the size of a ring box. He was worried that whatever was inside them was going to be used to force his Ability out of him. “What’s in those?”

“Clothes,” Pila said with a grin, patting the closest box next to her, a flat one that looked it could hold a pie. “Sterk, Frio, and I figured you could use a new outfit to help you fit in a little better. Not to mention the clothes you’re wearing now are all sweaty and probably have some vomit and blood on them.”

Cin felt his ears get hot, realizing that he had been in his pajamas for almost two days now. The idea of a change of clothes was very appealing. Even more appealing, though -- was a shower.

“There’s a Hygienics Room right there,” Pila added, motioning to a part of the room Cin had ignored earlier. To his surprise, there was a door there, though it looked like it was simply a part of the wall with no door frame around it. All the other doors in the Darkness had been so elaborate that he had simply not seen the one normal one.

“Er, thanks?” Cin said, hoping that was the bathroom. He stayed in bed, expecting Pila to leave after that, but she continued to sit where she was, smiling at nothing in particular. After a moment of awkward staring, he finally asked, “Uh, so, do I just go in there and change or something, and then...?”

“Oh, right! Sorry!” Pila clapped her hands together as though just remembering something important. She seemed a little out of it and more than a little distracted. “After you’re dressed, Sterk and Veder are going to take you to the Darkness Dungeon.”

“Th-the what?” Cin felt his heart jump in his throat. A dungeon? Was he getting arrested?

“Oh, don’t worry!” Pila laughed a bit at his reaction, waving a hand to dismiss his thoughts. “It’s just the term we use. It’s kind of like a training hall or dojo on the Gray World. It’s just underground, away from the surface so no one gets hurt, and it’s easier to draw Darkness for Abilities there. They’re just going to try and help you train, that’s all.”

“O-Oh. Okay,” Cin sighed with relief. “But what about you, Frio, and Tishina? Do you guys just have to wait for them to finish with me?”

“A few of the other Squadrons are having trouble,” she replied very casually, leaning back on the bed and kicking the air with her feet. “Tishina went off to help One already, Frio’s going to go help Four, and I have to help Three. Three’s near an electrical plant, so they need more than one Pauser, and we’re the only Squadron that isn’t on any real mission at the moment. So it’s just going to be you and the guys.”

“Huh,” Cin nodded a bit, though he was a little confused by Tishina wasn’t included in ‘the guys’. But Cin quickly realized he would have been more than a little embarrassed if Frio and Pila would be the ones to see him fail around during his attempts to master his Ability and quickly appreciated the situation. Not that Veder or Sterk were necessarily any less embarrassing to flail in front of, but Cin got the feeling those two were going to judge him no matter what the situation, anyway.

As he climbed out of bed, Cin noticed something glimmering on Pila’s chest. It hadn’t been there the day before, even though she was in the same uniform, otherwise.

“What’s that?” Cin hadn’t actually intended to ask that out loud, but thankfully, Pila didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, this?” Pila looked down and smiled widely as she hopped to her feet, touching the beautifully-detailed flower charm she now had around her neck. “Sterk got me this while we went shopping for your clothes. He saw me and Frio staring at the shop, and he snuck off while we weren’t paying attention...” The way she shifted from one leg to another as she spoke made Cin raise an eyebrow in confusion, but he decided he cared a lot less about the necklace and a lot more about getting showered at this particular moment.

“It’s really nice,” he did offer her, since she looked so happy about it. “And good luck with helping the other Squadrons,” he added before disappearing into the Hygienics Room.

He closed the door behind him and looked around. It was similar to a bathroom -- the floor and walls were shiny in a way that suggested they wouldn’t absorb water and there seemed to be the basics with a sink, toiler, and shower -- but the differences were really what got Cin’s attention. There was what he only could have assumed was a toilet, only it had no back to it and seemed a bit longer than it should have been. Next to it was a counter with what only could have been a sink, though it was crescent in shape, and the water was constantly flowing from the edges, like a little waterfall. In the corner, next to some towels, was what appeared to be a shower or something of the sort. It was a small rectangular room a few from any wall, with glass doors revealing the inside. But instead of the usual faucet or handle, there only appeared to be buttons. No knobs, no shower head, no shampoos or even soaps. The shower space was completely bare otherwise.

Cin let out a low groan as he reluctantly opened the glass door. He already hated it when he had to shower anywhere new and figure out how a shower head not from his own house worked. How he had to go in blind with buttons? Though he was incredibly afraid of experimentation with buttons in the Darkness, he was far more self-conscious about simply going back and asking someone about how the shower worked. No, third degree burns were easily better than having to have someone explain a shower to him like he was a six-year-old. So, the teenager stripped himself of all his clothes and, after a little thought, even the bandages, and climbed into the rectangular room, closing the clear door behind him.

Within twenty minutes, Cin had tried every button on the wall.

It was considerably simpler than he had thought, as well as a lot more entertaining. The buttons ranging from blue to purple to red had to do with the temperature of the water. Blue was cold, red was hot, and purple was a nice, even mix, with the shades in between correlating to the temperatures in between. There was no wait time – the moment the button was pushed, that was the temperature of the water before Cin could even lift his finger. The black buttons with silvery shapes on them showed where the water would come from. It sprayed out from the ceiling, the sides, and even up from the floor, and the buttons could be used in combination with one another so that water was literally just spraying from everywhere at once. The other buttons were all soaps and shampoos that smelled like different fruits and flowers, all of which either landed in his hands, on his hair, or just somewhere on his body, keeping on which of those small buttons he pressed. That part was especially jarring when he figured out which one was meant to soap up his backside.

By the end of the experimentation, Cin was completely clean, but left the purple button on, letting the water drip onto his head. His soaked, purple bangs obscured his vision, but he leaned back against the shower wall to stare at nothing in particular, so it didn’t matter.

Though Pila had surprised him and the shower had distracted him, now that he had nothing else on his mind, his thoughts were drifting back to the dream, of all things. The memories of it were much more vivid in his mind than dreams he’d had back home over the years. And something about them was nagging at him in the back of his mind, though he couldn’t place the feeling.

That newest dream definitely took place after the last one he had had. Enatha had felt a little more tired, a little more hopeless than before. Though she had been temporarily pleased by their project working, she wasn’t too surprised that Alanore had seen her fade. She had been so upset that Alanore had almost caught her, and it had stung at her so badly when he had said he’d hate to see her go...Her eyes had even filled with tears...

It suddenly hit him.

Her eyes. How could it have taken him so long? Enatha’s eyes! They were black, pure black, just like Cin’s, just like everyone’s in the Darkness. Enatha was a being of the Darkness!

Cin’s heart rate double instantly though he wasn’t sure why.

The fact that he had been dreaming about a being of the Darkness before knowing anything about them was more of a shock that he’d expected. There was a strange, unfamiliar glimmer of hope. He knew, somewhere deep inside of himself, about the Darkness. About someone from the Darkness. Could that have possibly meant that he was actually what the people said he was? Could he really have been the Decimator? Maybe this was something actually all connected to him.

He quickly pushed this thought out of his head. He didn’t need to get his hopes up. A whole race was depending on the Decimator. Cin had no right to assume that he was their savior simply because he had had some dreams.

But something else was still bothering him. Something he wasn’t sure about. The way the planet had formed in his dream had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, hands down. And yet, it had been strangely familiar. Not to Enatha, though he had been seeing it through her eyes. To him, to Cin. As though Cin had seen it somewhere before, somewhere recently. But where? There were so many designs everywhere in the Darkness, was it even possible for him to find a specific one?

He could always ask one of the Squadron members, though he didn’t love the idea of possibly being questioned about his dreams. But Cin had only been in three buildings so far, someone was bound to remember a design as beautiful as the one he’d seen as long as he could narrow it down to three buildings, right? Maybe it was worth it, telling them about his dreams...

“Nngh-!” Cin lurched forward unexpectantly, grasping his stomach to stop the wave of nausea.

Cin panted for a moment, swallowing down the extra saliva that had accumulated in his mouth, trying to understand what had caused this reaction. He shakily pulled his hand away from his stomach, coming to the realization that it had been the idea. The idea to tell the Squadron, anyone, about his dreams. He had never had the urge to do so before. But now that he had considered it, suddenly, his body was rejecting the thought. Physically.

He breathed deeply looking down at the shower floor, idly watching the water disappear into the floor instead of ever splashing. After a minute of this, Cin blindly pressed the buttons on the water, shutting the water off, and exited the shower.

He wasn’t going to tell them. At least, not yet. His body’s reaction made him completely reconsider ever doing so in the first place. He wasn’t prepared to go up against his own body quite yet. Maybe one day, but it was only his second day in the Darkness so far. He’d have time to ask another day, right? Now, he was going to go train or something. Cin was going to try and find out his Ability, see whether or not he was this so-called Decimator, and either make everyone happy or very disappointed.

Soon, Cin was all dry and trying on the clothes the three had gotten him. Though they all looked to be skin tight, as all clothes appeared to be in the Darkness, they were also amazingly comfortable and pleasantly warm. With some searching, he found a black pair of pants that weren’t too tight, but not nearly as baggy as what he was usually used to. After he had those on, he found a silver belt to put on as well, even though it wasn’t necessary with pants that fit snugly. He couldn’t find a single shirt that was anything short of form-fitting, and finally settled on one with no sleeves but a high collar. He saw arm bands and a few pairs of gloves as well, and after a moment of contemplation, put a set on. The arm bands matched his belt, and the gloves were fingerless. It wasn’t so much that he thought he needed them, but he sort of felt a “Decimator” would wear something like that. It looked kind of cool on his arms, too. Like a futuristic video game character.

Finally, he found a nice pair of black boots and pulled them on. They fit just right and seemed to be made out of a more comfortable, but just as sturdy, material as leather. There was no mirror in the bedroom, nor any mirror in the Hygienics Room at all, so he just ran his patted his hair until it felt like it should have been sitting correctly. His hand innately went to his nose to push his sunglasses up, when he realized that he wasn’t wearing any. He blinked for a moment with surprise, realizing that he hadn’t worn any since he had entered the Darkness.

It was different now. Everything seemed so different. He usually hated different, hated new. And yet, this? He was welcoming it. It was bizarre but not necessarily bad.

“Okay,” he said to himself, carelessly tossing his pajamas onto his bed before exiting the room in his new outfit. He felt he was ready to take on the training, no matter how difficult or unpleasant it was going to be.

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absolutelyfreepsychicreadin-blog · 7 years

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hownottofindaboyfriend-blog · 7 years

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Date Nineteen. Mike.

I’m peddling at what feels like a hundred miles per hour. Sweat’s dripping into my eyes, burning my eyelids and fuzzing up the sight of the shouting, frenzied female instructor perched on the bike in front of me. She’s bouncing up and down with ease, her legs clearly devoid of human pain and limitation. My legs are numb. I can’t speak.

‘Faster!” I hear her cry.

I’m tempted to shout back ‘No’ but my lungs probably don’t have the oxygen capacity.

The woman to my right is coming to a grinding halt. The guy on my left has actually got off his bike, with a look that says ‘Fuck you all, you got me out of bed on a Sunday for this?’

‘KEEP GOING!’ the instructor barks. She looks at the man getting off his bike. He looks at her. I wonder if they’ll come to blows. If they do, I have money on the instructor.

‘It’s not my fat you’re burning you know.’ She adds this as if for emphasis, as if this is the trick to keeping candidates in the class. I see through my peripherals the man reaching for his backpack and walking out of the revolving door. And then there were twelve.

Twenty minutes later, I am off my spin bike and walking towards Costa. At least, I think I’m walking. To be honest, I’m not sure, I’ve lost the sensation in my legs, yet my body appears to be travelling in the direction that I want it to go in (the direction of coffee and sustenance) which is enough for me. There’s nothing I appreciate more than a post-workout coffee; it’s almost worth the £3.50 charge and fifteen minute queue. I walk out clutching my beverage, the feeling in my legs slowly beginning to return when suddenly out of the corner of my eye I see Mike walking slowly towards me alongside two girls and a guy I’ve never seen before.

I assess the situation and my appearance. Overall both seem pretty bleak. My hair is plastered to my face and frizzing. My face is beetroot and I have sweat patches under my arms. I could run. Or hide in Costa. Or continue walking.

I choose the middle ground, sprinting back into the cafe where I pretend to examine the plastic wrapped tuna melts until I can be totally sure that Mike and his posse have officially moved on. Damn. I’d never considered the risks of casually making out with the attractive people living in your area: you can bump into them at a moment’s notice.

Coast clear, I amble home, stopping off at Gail’s to buy myself an extra large chia yoghurt pot and takeaway toast with scrambled egg. (I don't know how they do it but the chef’s at Gail's can make scrambled eggs better than any I have ever eaten. They’ve got that fantastic runny, snotty texture that scrambled eggs should have and which is difficult to achieve at home. There’s also a hint of cream and chive with- oh whatever, I’m digressing. Basically I got eggs and ambled home.)

Once inside I receive a message from Mike. Weird coincidence given that I’ve just seen him. I open it:

‘Hey you. How’s your weekend, fancy a drink tonight?’

I smile. A moment later another message appears:

‘I’ll pick you up at 8. Please don’t still be wearing that gym gear.’

Oh, bugger. He saw me?

***

Six hours and fifty nine minutes later I am scrubbed, preened, shaved, blow dried, fake tanned, waxed (a pre-booking which coincidentally fell on tonight, I swear) and ready for business. I’ve even got a new outfit on; this sort of ‘off the shoulder’ jump suit type thing from Zara which looked bloody brilliant on the hanger yet is unfortunately already giving me a wedgie. Still, discomfort aside, I’m good to go.

At fifteen minutes past, Mike arrives. Annoyingly he appears to be wearing the exact same outfit I saw him wearing that morning: pink t-shirt, faded denim shorts and flip flops. I know Aussie guys have this thing about wearing flip flops every day of the year although given the effort I’ve gone to for our date I feel slightly put out.

I give Mike a kiss on the cheek hello and ask him where we’re headed.

‘It’s a surprise,’ he says.

I smile back, curious to know where he envisages us getting in to when he’s dressed in a pair of shorts and sandals. But as we leave my street and turn to the left, walking up the high street I see Mike pause outside All Bar One. Why are we stopping? But Mike is opening the door.

‘Ladies first,’ he says with a smile.

This is where we’re going? But- but- we just had drinks here the other night. Is this meant to be funny?

I must look slightly disappointed. A lack of imaginative first date venue choice from Mike is a clear indication that little effort has been made, which would suggest that I fall into a ranking of ‘not too high’ in his thought process. It would also suggest that he's looking for something fairly casual when it comes to dating me. Either that or he’s forgotten that we’ve already been here which would suggest a high chance of amnesia on his part. In which case I should probably be concerned for him.

We settle in and Mike gets us some cocktails. It’s happy hour, 2 for 1 which Mike seems keen to make the most of which makes me feel a little nauseated: (there’s nothing like buying a girl a discount cocktail to make her feel extra special). I sigh and sit back in my seat, wondering whether the grand total of tonight’s bar tab will surpass the cost of my wax.

As we get talking, Mike is just as I remember him. Fun, quick and not at all serious. I ask him what his plans are for the summer. He tells me he’s keen to get to Ibiza and spend a few weeks out there if he can get the time off work. I shudder inwardly. The idea of Ibiza just doesn’t appeal to me. I love my sleep, a little too much, and the thought of staying out on a dance floor until 6am feels more like a chore than a holiday. I can never understand people who go out clubbing all night and then continue on the following day. How do they have the energy? It seems odd to me, notably as this is probably the same population of the planet who’ll complain that they don’t have the energy to go to the gym. Weird. I ask Mike what he does for a living and almost drop my drink when he tells me he’s an accountant. The idea seems almost laughable, not least because I’ve yet to see this guy in a proper pair of shoes.

‘You’re an accountant?’ I manage, although what I really want to ask is, ‘You have a brain?’

‘I trained in Australia,’ Mike tells me. ‘It’s a steady living.’

I must say I’m suitably impressed: the man seems to be a curious concoction of ‘God-like abs’ and ‘brainy accountant.’

We swap stories about work and I ask him how long he plans to be in the UK. He shrugs, as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind (given his laissez faire attitude to life it probably hasn’t) but manages to say that he plans on being here until it gets boring. I'm tempted to ask him what he constitutes as boring (for someone with such a low threshold for it, becoming an accountant seems a strange choice) but instead I sit back and sip my drink, feeling slightly envious of his approach to life. I’d give anything to pack up and leave London one day, to explore living in another city or another country all together. I’ve never lived anywhere else and meeting people like Mike makes me conscious of the closeted, risk-averse existence I do lead.

The hours pass us by and then before we know it the bar is closing. Again. I’m tempted to call it a night but the thought of putting my newly waxed bikini line to waste feels a little depressing so I casually suggest that we continue drinks at mine. Yet Mike shakes his head.

‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘It’s a Sunday. I’ve got to get an early night.’

I blink at him sightly stunned. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy turn down the offer of coming back to my place before. Not that I’ve made many such offers in my time, but still as suggestions go, it tends to return fairly positive feedback from blokes. Does he not find me attractive?

Mike pays for our drinks and we step out into the street where it’s started to rain, which is annoying as I don’t have an umbrella, my beautifully blow dried hair already threatening to misbehave.

Mike gives me a kiss on the cheek, looks at me and smiles.

‘This was fun,’ he says.

I nod my head in half agreement, unsure if it actually was. We’ve gone from cheeky snogs to respectful kisses on the cheek in under forty eight hours which is hardly my definition of fun. The man has also rejected the offer of a potential romp on my couch, which would suggest that he’s not only not attracted to me, he's repulsed. Or gay. Perhaps it’s the jump suit. Perhaps I’ll never know.

As we make our goodbyes, walking off in separate directions, I have a clearer understanding of the experience when I get back to my flat fifteen minutes later. Mike is a foreigner and tonight’s date was clearly just his poor attempt to make a friend. For a moment I feel slightly touched (one can never have too many attractive, blonde, muscly friends to drink half price cocktails with) albeit frustrated that I put so much time and effort into my appearance for just a chum. Writing up this blog post as ‘Date Nineteen’ now feels a little deceptive.

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