Editing Bound Fate (Warhammer High) (section)

===A Brave New Day - Monday, Septembris 19===
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Dawn broke cool and crisp over Imperator High. As the hot months ceded to cold, the storm season, the pseudoclash of cold and warm fronts, finally began to die down. Doug and Furia went to their respective lockers, no changes to their respective schedules. When she got to Bio he was already engrossed in his book, prereading the day's assignment. The morning was, thankfully, uneventful. No pop quizzes or tests, the first period Bio experiment a simple enzymatic analysis. They left for separate classes then, sparing only the least of glances at each other as they crossed paths. Hours and a routine game of separate gender soccer in PE later lunch finally came. As Doug put away his books, he noticed someone walking up behind him. He turned, acknowledging his fellow senior's presence before the outstretched hand could tap his shoulder.

"Vincent. And how are you?"

Vincent nodded. "Doug."

His pronunciation was clipped, to the point, devoid of anything nonessential. They headed to the cafeteria without another word. Doug and Vince walked briskly into the lunch room, grabbing plates of reconstituted nutritional paste, colloquially known as 'the goo' by the student populace. It didn't take long for them to transition to their usual area in the nearby gym; few in their group liked eating in the crowded lunch room. The pair walked in silence, getting along precisely because neither was fond of superfluous talk. Doug was capable in that regard, but only because so many people seemed to expect it, and for the many benefits it afforded him. Callie waved them over, far and away the most sociable of their circle, and they sat with their other friends. Despite the largely reclusive nature of their group Caroline, Everett or Vivian were always ready to talk about something. Today it was Ev, as Everett Sior, an Alban sophomore perpetually ready to fight or argue, preferred to be called.

"All I'm saying is, there's no reason to use artificial ingredients when you can use natural. They taste better, they have almost no chance of fouling the recipe, there's just no reason not to use them." Violet snapped the words out, olive cheeks red with frustration and invective, black ponytail bobbing in the noon sun.

"And 'All I'm saying'," Ev's words were snide, a mocking imitation of Violet's slightly nasal voice, "is that synthetic shit has a hell of a lot more kick to it for the price, and you can't get that with plant and animal based stuff." Misguided anger twisted his already bruised and swelling face, the result of a particularly trying fight the day before. It was a poorly concealed secret that he had more than passing interest in Violet Munev, and, despite his brash demeanor and recklessness on the scrumball field, he couldn't work up the nerve to tell her. Instead he provoked her into a shouting match at every opportunity, the heated exchanges a passable substitute for what he sorely desired. The conversation seemed especially vigorous today, likely owing to the position they were in last night.

''Or the way Violet wrote it off.'' Doug thought. A snigger erupted from the other side of Vincent's broad shoulders and junior Caroline 'Callie' Lidus leaned forward, looking from one face to the other.

"I wish they'd just get it on and get over it, or she'd shoot him down so we didn't have to put up with this every day." She flipped her own blonde ponytail and leaned back, bright blue eyes still flitting, looking for a response to her hushed comment or the clearly presented tableau of her slender, inviting body. Doug found himself ignoring Callie, once again thinking about what happened with Furia friday night.

"Hey, where'd you place last week?" Doug was shaken out of his reverie by Ev's question.

"I'm sorry?"

"In the LFT, where'd you place?" Ev simply picked up his plate and sucked the mass of goo into his throat. The argument with Violet had given him fresh energy, probably enough to see him through the day.

"I believe fifth, overall, in my class." Ev smiled, always happy to see a boy make a good showing against the Royal Daughters, and Vincent nodded, out of a general respect for athletic prowess.

"I don't think anyone cares about that, Doug." Violet was looking directly at him, and he had to admit it wasn't easy to ignore her striking eyes. "After that stunt you pulled with Furia I don't think anyone here's going to remember LFT Day 297 as anything but the day Angron's daughter got knocked on her ass by a baseline."
Callie smirked, and Doug suddenly realized his mistake in coming to school today.

The memory of walking by Furia in the hallway, of the almost imperceptible exchange of glances, came to mind. Vivid in his mental picture now was Caroline Lidus talking to Alpharia and Omegan in the hallway less than six meters away, wearing that same smirk and looking sidelong at him. 

"Yeah, you really, uh, tore her sweet ass up there, Doug." Callie laughed knowingly, a behind-the-hand snicker befitting the most blue-blooded of girls.

Doug's left eye may have twitched, slightly, as he fought to retain his composure. In that moment he realized the secret was out. Janus blushed visibly and he smiled, Callie's titter roared into a guffaw and the rest rolled their eyes, except for Ev.

The scrumball player gestured impatiently with his hand, "Dude, come on, we gotta brofist over that!"

Doug refused to acknowledge Ev, and instead tried to think up damage control for later in the day, while picking at his food. He began to consider what Furia would do when, by day's end, virtually the entire school knew what had transpired over their weekend. He shuddered slightly, then set the thought aside and finished his meal.

"Can't believe you didn't tell me, man. You're fuckin' nuts for doing it, though." Ev licked the remaining goo off his fingers happily. "What was she like? I mean, I know she's angr-"

"That's quite enough, Ev."

"Seriously, though. Does she, you know, ha-" Doug sighed.



"Dude, it was the creepiest thing ever! I thought I was going to die!" Castor gestured explosively, the memory of that moment still fresh in his mind.

"Told you she's a freak, man, and not in the good way."

They all laughed a little at this, including Castor, who went on to exaggerate how terrifying it was. At the other end of the lunch room sat Miranda, red-faced and trying her best not to cry.

It wasn't working very well.

Around the room three people in particular took notice of the situation and decided to act on it. The first was Faith. Although she didn't bear a great deal of love for Miranda in particular, Faith knew the sting of mockery all too well. Not far away from Faith, having just returned from a quick smoke break, was Furia. She liked Miranda, ''Most of the time'', but would've taken the chance to vent some anger at a deserving target regardless of why. 

However, they both lost out to someone else, someone completely unexpected.

"Shut up! Nobody cares, Castor!" Simon bellowed, using his weighty frame to give his voice a bass even he didn't know he could access. Simon long had a small crush on Miranda, among several girls. But, more than that, he knew what it was like to be made fun of.

And he didn't like it.

"Stop being an asshole and just shut up!" Castor nearly fell out of his chair, having been cut off in the middle of his description, loudly, by Simon of all people. Very quickly his friends rallied around him, and they backed off just as quickly when Furia and Faith showed up behind Simon, looking displeased. The boys scattered without a second thought and Faith, blushing slightly, turned to say something to Simon.

"Hey, what's your name?" Simon blushed as Furia beat Faith to the punch.

"S-Simon." He suddenly felt very warm and sweaty.

"You're in my Bio class, aren't ya?" Simon nodded very slowly. "Good, I need a tutor." Furia gave him a small grin, and he couldn't help but smile widely in return.





In the hallway, some three hours later, Doug turned to regard Furia Angron as she walked up. "Ah, Furia. I was wondering if we could have a word in priva-"

Her form was perfect, her arm cutting through the air. It carried his body upwards in a magnificent display of power. The impact was tremendous, akin to an out-of-control bus ploughing into an intersection. Doug was lifted bodily into the air, his feet clearing a meter-and-a-half vertical as he rolled through the atmosphere, plummeting back down to earth in a limp heap some two meters away. Furia paused only to glare at Doug, teeth grinding, a single eyebrow raised and twitching.

"See what you get when you fucking make shit up about me, motherfucker!" She stormed off to the parking garage.

Doug came out of his daze moments later, but decided to stay on the ground, resting. He was satisfied with this until a large, angry shape darkened his field of view.

"My office, NOW." The last word was not excessively loud, but somehow portended all the threat and danger in the world.

"Of course, Dean Yarrick." Doug replied.

Some amount of stumbling and staggering later, assisted vigorously by the good dean, Doug fell into the same wooden chair Furia had occupied several times only last week.

''It even smells faintly of her.''

Yarrick sat in his own seat, turning to look out the window, to watch students file dutifully or not so dutifully onto the buses.

"Do you have a death wish, son?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. Again, please?"

Yarrick turned back, ready to dole out another one of his trademark tongue lashings, centered on the importance of paying attention. Instead he saw the young man removing the second of a pair of clean ear plugs. 

"I have sensitive hearing, my apologies. Also, it seems Miss Angron's displeasure left me with some ringing. Please, continue."

Yarrick chewed his tongue for a moment, then repeated the question. "Are you a moron?"

"I wonder sometimes, sir. Moreso lately." 

"Don't play smart with me, kid, I'm not in the mood for you or any of your little group's shenanigans." Yarrick's face bore down, seeming to swell and fill the whole of Doug's sight.

"We're quite large, actually." He did not flicker, did not break composure once. Even the barest smirk refused to appear.

Yarrick fumed, his organic eye bulging obscenely, wordlessly promising a painful end to another such retort.

"Now, normally, spreading rumors about what you've done or want to do, or what you think is going to sound impressive? That's not my concern. This school has its fair share of gossip. But everybody here knows better than to start scuttlebutt about Furia Angron. Even Lady Victoria and Selphy know better."

Yarrick paused for a moment, producing a stout cigar and puffing it to life. The smoke wallowed out the window. "So, I'm only going to ask you once: did you do it?"

"Do what, Dean?" Yarrick simply turned and glared, augmetic eye whirring intermittently. His stone-faced gaze was legendary, having crushed a thousand students into submission, forced a hundred shameful confessions and broken up dozens of fights. It was also rumored to be capable of shattering the morale of whole squads of Ork Boyz. ''I've seen some slippery bastards in my time, but this kid's as slippery as they get.'' Doug stared back almost sleepily, as if completely unconcerned by Yarrick's steely glower. Legend holds that a freshman entered the office unawares at this time. Upon seeing Yarrick's countenance the unfortunate soul evaporated into a mist of blood, brain matter, flesh and bone.

He is considered lucky.

After a period of no less than five minutes Doug's lips parted, the words hissing out, "I admit I made an attempt to mislead others as to the status of my relationship with Miss Angron."

"Which is?"

"Nothing." Doug's face was completely open and honest now. "We have no relationship, besides a series of physical encounters of which you are already largely aware." Doug finished, smiling. Yarrick did not release the withering look for some time, sure there was something missing here. But the boy's face betrayed no dishonesty and just a hint of shame. Yarrick dismissed him with a curt nod, then turned back around. Doug got up to leave, but a heavy cough stopped him at the door.

"Just be careful, Hanlon. Furia's a tough girl, but the people who care about her are even tougher. Understand?"

Doug looked back, the corners of their eyes meeting, and nodded before leaving. He hurried through the building, his steps as measured and silent as a thief's, and arrived at the parking garage in short order. Doug was greeted by a black blur, an unstoppable force that raced through the air as quiet as a cat. Even as he realized what it was his reaction proved inadequate to avoid the impending catastrophe. The collision nearly took Doug off his feet, succeeded wholly at knocking the air out of his lungs and reawakened his slumbering stomach pain. A high pitched squeal erupted, grating on the ears of all those present. 

"OhmygodareyouokayweweresoscaredwethoughtyoudiedandthenYarrickshowedupanditgotworseandwe-" Violet stopped and looked up at Doug, at the very aggrieved wince on his face. She let go. "Sorry, sorry."

"That's-" Doug wheezed and took another breath, "That's fine Violet. I appreciate the gesture, figuratively speaking."

The rest just stood around, one-by-one turning their collective gaze from the pair to an increasingly ruddy Callie. "Alright, alright fine. My bad. I really thought you guys had... you know."

Doug let his frustration play through in his voice and features when he spoke, "As well you should be Caroline, you know we're expressly instructed not to interfere in the lives of the Royal Daughters. I would request you apologize to her yourself," Callie flinched visibly, an almost obscene reaction compare to her usual cocky demeanor, "but I am keenly aware of how that would play out. I suspect our benefactor's upcoming diatribe will be more than enough. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to rest." With a nod he departed, catching a public airbus to hab block 127. 



An hour later as Doug walked along his floor, grimacing with each step, a flurry of tabac smoke and odd scents erupted from the neighbor's room. She emerged, chattering in a barely comprehensible slur of extremely accented low gothic. 

"Please, please Miss Hoshiko, I need a moment. I was involved in an altercation at school." She stopped babbling and looked pointedly at him, "Five minutes, please."

Miss Hoshiko nodded and returned to her room. Doug stepped into his own and closed the door quietly, then exhaled. All the pent up stress and frustration of the day coalesced into a warm mist in the apartment's cool air. He shed his bag and books, shoes slid neatly off his feet and he began to doff his shirt when a loud scuff sounded outside the door. "Please, Miss Hosh-" Doug stopped, a strange feeling in the corner of his mind. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't quite place his finger on the issue. He listened, very slowly and quietly removing his ear plugs. Vigilance came from the other side of the door, more felt than heard, a sign that the sounds were too low for conscious recognition.

''Low, but not absent.''

Doug waited another two minutes while realizing that, whatever was on the other side of the door, Miss Hoshiko would be dealing with it in a few minutes if he didn't now. He picked up a jug of water, cooled by the room's low ambient temperature, and held it high, ready for use as a makeshift weapon. He opened the door, very carefully exerting pressure such that the latch was not in contact with the receiver's inner surface when it moved. He paused with the latch disengaged, invisible from the outside, for another thirty seconds.

''Furtiveness is patience, after all.''

When he was absolutely sure he was ready Doug flung the door open, the hinges he'd oiled himself ensuring no unwanted noise issued forth. The jug shot up high in his left hand, ready to strike as he stepped over the threshold, his senses on high alert, his mind in overdrive, eyes taking in every detail of his enemy.

''Tall, lean-muscled, built for equal amount of strength and speed. Scars show experience fighting, possibly a pathological compulsion to do so, but with enough sense, enough survival instinct retained to avoid truly suicidal action. Leather jacket could be hiding a firearm, but more likely an innocuous close-quarters weapon.''

''Eyes are perceptive, belying cunning, an atavistic inclination unburdened by thought and reaction. Hair is red, roots showing, died to conceal identity; long, but not long enough to create a weakness.''

''Lips show signs of biting and dryness, suggestive of impatience and a lack of concern for appearance despite their... fullness and natural part.''

Doug stopped focusing on the details and allowed the larger picture to assemble. 

This revealed Furia, wearing a look of unparalleled annoyance in addition to his leather jacket. He let his shoulders relax and stood up out of his slight crouch. The water jug dropped from striking position to a level easy for Miss Hoshiko, whose door opened at that exact moment, to grab. 

"Tankeh yoo, Hanlon-kun." The sound of children, an impossible amount of children, filtered into the hall from her apartment. The older woman gave Doug a curt bow, which he returned with one hand folded over a fist, then looked over at Furia, dark eyes flashing. She let loose a high crowing sound and nodded again, ducking back through her door.

"What, you hittin' that?" Furia quipped.

Doug turned to her and responded instantly and casually. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Furia's eyes bulged, and a stream of surprised air hissed from her mouth.

"Miss Hoshiko is an unarmed combat specialist–or karateka, as she calls it–and has been teaching me the finer points of certain ancient martial arts."

"You need the help?" Furia raised an eyebrow at the notion, well remembering how capable he was in a fight.

"She requires the water, I have too much hydration and free time as it is. Now, please, come inside." Doug pushed the door back open, a firm wave of his arm ushering in Furia. He looked around again, unsure if she was the presence he sensed earlier. He saw nothing, heard nothing and finally relented as the girl audibly lit up a lho stick. "Please, Miss Angron," Doug snatched the roll from her lips, a single finger deftly extinguishing the few living cinders. "You know better."

[[File:Furia_Strolls_In.jpg|thumb|right|"Boy, somebody's panties are in a twist today, huh?"]]

Furia, surprisingly, just laughed. "Boy, somebody's panties are in a twist today, huh?"

"It has been a.. relatively unpleasant day, yes." Doug massaged his aching stomach.

"I was thinking the same thing, time to blow off a little steam." She dropped the jacket and pulled in close, kissing him on the jaw. One hand took the smoke back and tucked it behind her ear. She stopped when he didn't react, pulled back and blushed a little at the approving look on his face.

"I see, very good, Furia." Doug's eyes turned thoughtful, his hands now moving up her arms. "I had not the slightest suspicion."

She blushed more at the look of unabashed respect he gave her, and laughed it off. "It's easy to play to form." She started again. "That bitch get the message?"

"Yes, I believe she's been sufficiently rebuked."

"Good." Furia replied between kisses. "Let's get this show on the road."





A few levels below, Arbitrator-Patrolman Idiam Thar sat in his cell, arms crossed, breathing easily. Imperial justice has been served. The images and sounds played through his mind again, proposing a simple sweep of block #113 to his Commander Friday night, starting at the school and moving outwards. He'd already found the overdosed schoolboy last Sunday, then the dealer; Winhus, who rolled over on the other eight dealers they'd found that Friday night. It was clear something was going on, a large and well-hidden slide trafficking operation. Finding Patrolman Agissa's badge at the clearinghouse only sealed the deal. But Commander Baren had resisted, every step of the way. Only the smallest digging and searching yielded a motive: Agissa had been passing his payments on to Baren directly, keeping only a small cut for himself.

Thar smiled, a rare, harsh smile. ''He deserved it. Crimes – official misconduct; perverting the course of Imperial Law, appended; resisting detainment, appended. Verdict – guilty. Sentence – death.'' He was honestly surprised when Marshal Courkan had simply thrown him in a cell instead of executing him in turn. The block door creaked open, rusty, dry hinges carrying through easily into his dank cell. A shadow darkened the cell door slit, and the barest glint of grave eyes showed through as it was unlocked. A man stepped in, and Thar immediately stiffened up, even releasing a sharp gasp as he sat at attention.

“Please, relax Arbitrator.” A man, impossibly old and severe, stood in front of Idiam, hands clasped behind his back. Despite his great age, the Judge bore a fatherly air, his movements and voice vibrant, even dynamic. The Judge wore a halo of white hair that perfectly matched his furrowed skin at first glance. Oddly, though, the crown itself was thick and full, as if the baldness had cut off neatly instead of thinning away gradually. His face was alert, intelligent, and the nature of his eyes was unreadable. Like many in the Arbites his jaw was solid, powerful; when he spoke his lips moved with unexpected grace, matching the tone of his voice, smooth and limber.

“Of course, Judge Albrecht.” Despite the affirmation Thar barely relaxed at all, and the Judge smiled at this.

“Do you know why I am here, Patrolman Thar?”

Idiam nodded. “Because I executed Commander Baren.”

Albrecht turned and stepped, evidently relaxed even around the younger and stronger man. “That is correct. You claim he was corrupted, that he was taking payments from a Patrolman. Agissa, I believe?”

Thar nodded again. “Yes, a cursory inspection of security logs showed Agissa entering his office once a month on the fifteenth, which matches up with the dealer's description of his payoff schedule.”

“So you executed him for this, rather than starting an investigation?” The Judge paced the other direction.

“Yes. He would have stopped any attempt at an investigation and likely had me sanctioned for being aware.”

“And you did this, knowing full well what the result would be if you were found in the wrong?” Another turn.

“Yes, I-” Thar stopped, and after a moment his mouth caught up to his thoughts. “If?”

Albrecht faced Thar once more, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Yes. If.”

Idiam sat there for a minute, dumbfounded. “So, you're not here to-”

“I'm afraid not, Patrolman Thar. I'm here for two entirely different reasons. The first is to notify you of your promotion. Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Arbitrator-Detective Thar.” Albrecht offered his hand, and shook Idiam's graciously. “Second, it is my honor to present you with this, the Tetra Silver Order of Valor, for exceptional courage under extenuating circumstances. May we all learn from your example.”

Thar took the commendation, gleaming richly even in the dark cell, and found himself without words.

“Please, take a day to recuperate Detective.” Albrecht turned to leave and looked back over his shoulder. “Then get back to work, I believe you still have a slide cartel to dismantle.”



Hours later and above once more, Doug was moving through the slow, relaxing forms again, gently stretching and relaxing each muscle in turn.

"Why do you hang out with her anyway?" Furia shrugged into Doug's leather jacket and relaxed visibly.

"Caroline."

"Yeah, the blonde one. Real bendy apparently." Furia clapped her hands together and flexed the fingers back and forth.

"Indeed." He shifted into a series of hard steps and rigid arm placements, each a variation of what was known as a mountain block. He winced slightly with the motions, profoundly aware of how often he'd been doing so in the past week. He now had another, deeper pair of marks on his right shoulder, almost perfectly symmetrical with those on his left. "We are in the same group, nothing more. I'm aware of some desire for more from her, but she is too young, her motivations too questionable. I feel that, more than anything, I would be simply be convenient." A small collection of other wounds, not as fresh as his right shoulder, but fresher than the left dotted his body, including a long claw mark down his back from last night. Doug suspected Furia was holding back more anger at the school's awareness of their activities than she let on.

''Perhaps shame or embarrassment. Stigma over a simple human need, seen as a weakness.'' Doug looked over at Furia, clad only in his leather jacket, the only reminder of his family he'd brought to Terra. ''I must admit I am not displeased that she's elected to continue our affiliation in light of today's events.'' Doug looked again, admiring the effect the jacket had, somehow an enhancement over her bare form in the low light. ''Or perhaps it is mere novelty.'' He thought for a moment, then shook his head. ''No, there's something more.'' Furia seemed comforted by it, and that magnified her. She saw him looking, and rolled her eyes, exhaling another cloud of smoke to cover the blush he was sure followed.

"So, did Yarrick let you have it?" Furia smirked, always happy to see someone else on the receiving end of Yarrick's wrath.

"Ah yes, Dean Yarrick, charming fellow. I can see why you two are so friendly."

"Pfft. I'm not friends with Yarrick." Furia shook her head at the notion, as if he'd suggested the moon were to fall on them tonight.

"I might have been mistaken." Doug let out a low, hissing breath as part of the form. "His line of questioning seemed to have a particularly ''concerned'' slant."

Furia thought back to the many, many shouting matches she'd gotten into with Yarrick. As Doug moved through the motions of his form she slipped forward in time, noticing a trend in Yarrick's office visits. They'd gone from shouting and accusation to questioning, and finally to a low-key conversation, fraught with suggestions and quiet patience. Despite the rumors, and her overall impression of the situation, Furia realized that her time in the office with Yarrick was probably the most relaxed she felt on any given school day.

''Or was, until I started this... thing.'' Furia murmured very quietly, but Doug didn't hear, and didn't press the issue. "Don't dodge the question though, fucker." The lone pillow soared through the air and was met by a crisp mountain block, sending it in a crazy spiral onto the small stack of water jugs.

"What happened? I heard a freshman walked in and about had a heart attack when he saw Yarrick's face."

"It was... intense." Doug stood at a ready stance, hands clasped neatly behind his back, and shrugged, "I must say, I can see some truth to the rumors that Commissar Yarrick could scatter enemy forces with only a stern look." Doug's face suddenly contorted, bulging madly and convulsing in a frighteningly accurate rendition of Yarrick's trademark evil eye. Furia snorted, almost losing the lho stick as it fell out of her mouth, and laughed long and low. Doug slid back into bed with the pillow and she shrugged out of the jacket, half splaying out onto him again. The air pushed softly through her wild thatch of hair.

She hated her hair. ''I can never get it the right color, never get it to look like anything decent without 'compromising tactical viability.'' But Furia also hated the coiffed and primped hair Victoria and some of the other girls had as well and could never figure out how to make it to the halfway point that Isis, Roberta or Angela seemed to reach so easily. As if reading her thoughts Doug's hand settled lightly on hers, twisting in her hair. He pulled it down to his chest, then returned, massaging her scalp gently.

"I'm fond of it. I think it... reflective of you." 

"Yeah, ugly and damaged." Furia sighed loudly, a puff of air throwing the offending hair up.

"No, unique. Practical, colorful and, truth be told, a little angry." Furia listened to Doug's pulse, his breathing and smiled. She could tell he wasn't lying or exaggerating, or even skirting the truth like he'd done so many times before. Just speaking what he meant, he felt. They lay like that for a time, and she felt him start to drift off. A question suddenly popped into her head and she asked without moving, head bobbing over his chest as her jaw sunk into muscle and rooted there.

"What's up with her anyway, with them?"

"Hmm?" Doug shook out of his half-sleep.

"You know. Your friends, those kids you hang out with at school."

"They were all selected long ago for an educational program. I was a last minute addition. I... I filled a spot that had been left open." Furia heard Doug's heart quicken a bit and knew he was concealing the truth again. Not outright lying, but beating around the bush. There was something else, though, a flutter, a tremble, something painful.

''It'd be better to just let him have this one.'' She sat up suddenly, her chest dropping heavily and sliding over his, distracting him perfectly. Their eyes met, and his hand slid down to the back of her neck. "Hey, you don't, uh, plan on meeting my dad anytime soon, do you?"

"I understood your meaning last time, Furia." The words rasped with weariness.

"No, I mean... you don't plan on being near him anytime for the next day, maybe two?" The barest hint of apprehension crept into Furia's voice.

"Not that I am aware of."

"Good. 'Night." Furia kissed Doug, lingering a little longer than appropriate for a good night kiss, then laid back down to listen to him again. "Say hi to Freya for me tomorrow."

His heart had sped up a little when she'd excited him, but he was calming down. "I don't believe I have any classes with Miss Russ."

"She'll be around." Furia drew the cover up a little higher, snugging it firmly over her shoulder, "Trust me."