Fantasy

Charlie's mobile chirps:

**CptnJEJones**: meet tonight?

**CKDarling**: where?

**CptnJEJones**: my place? i have food?

**CKDarling**: I'll arrive for 1900.

**CptnJEJones**: awesome! see u then :)

Charlie rolls her eyes, —Dork.— and shoves her phone deep into her bag.

.

At 1853, Charlie knocks on the door to Jackson's flat.

It flies open.

"You're here!" beams Jackson, controller in hand. "C'mon." He ushers her through, pushes her--

Charlie kicks off her shoes.

--to the couch, sits her down, firmly stacks a laptop desk, cooling tray, and (conscious) laptop in her lap, tosses her a controller and a headset, and bounces down beside her.

The TV erupts with sparkling and blasting.

He touches his throat--he touches the mic at his throat, announces, "Our healer has arrived!" He mimes turning on her mic--

She mirrors.

--turns back to the TV. "Guys, this is the one and only most awesome Charlie. Don't take out your lameness on her."

A chorus of six voices--three Australians, a New Yorker, a Canadian, and a Nipponjin--welcome her to the group.

"Hey," Charlie replies confidently while giving Jackson a 'what the hell?' look.

"Oh! Food!" Jackson touches his throat--the mic at his throat. "Right!" Twists to face her. "You must be hungry. Pasta with alfredo--my cooking is terrible, it's from a can-- hope you don't mind. I put it in the oven to warm up." Frowns. "You /**are** hungry, yea?" >'flops' sounds like he's lying down, but I'm pretty sure he's sitting on his butt, so slightly different word?; how's this?<

"What're we doing?"

"Shit! Duh!" grins self-deprecatingly. "This is /*Final Fantasy Fourteen*], Binding Coil of Bahalmut: Turn Nine. It is impossible without a planned group and our healer's found himself on a road trip so we're down one and need someone who knows what we're doing."

""Are you fucking with me, Jones?"" demands the New Yorker. ""Your ringer's a /**noob**?""

Jackson's eyes flash and he nearly stabs himself in the neck. "My ringer has my spare account with better armour than you'll ever have, mate, and she's the smartest person I know. I could give her my Damage Dealer and we'd have this thing beat in one shot."

""Prove it.""

Jackson rolls his eyes. "Hey, Charlie, here's a controller you've never seen before for the position most crucial to getting the thing to zero HP. Che. Like /**that's** fair."

The Canadian pipes up, ""If we can't get through tonight, you can tear 'im a new one, Kite.""

Kite grumbles but stays quiet.

"Basically," begins Jackson, "if any of the green bars in the upper left get really low, use this--" He demonstrates on his controller. "Or if it's empty, this. Got it?"

A 'ready check' pops up on screen.

Charlie turns off her mic--

So does Jackson.

"What're we doing?"

"Turn Nine?"

Charlie rolls her eyes. "What is--" Gestures. "--/**this**?"

"Video game?"

"Are we having sex tonight or not?"

"But, video game?"

Charlie tosses her hair and jabs the ready check, focusing on the screen.

Jackson accepts the ready check, too. "This game is seriously awesome." Touches his throat.

Charlie unmutes her mic.

The Canadian says, ""Last thing, you'll need to run out of the way. Someone'll tell you which way's best.""

"Not just 'away'?"

A collection of sad sighs.

Jackson pokes a remote on the table and her screen changes to his.

Charlie questions.

'Buffing', he mouths.

Charlie's sure she didn't read that properly--

Her avatar summons a bunch of circles, the spells enter cool-down mode, and little shields appear beside the green bars.

That's 'buffing'. Okay.

Jackson hits the remote again and their screens switch back. 'Thank you!'

Charlie nods, moves her character where the Nipponjin suggests.

.

Six hours, three breaks, and a heaping bowl of pasta each, the boss' defeat scene /**finally** plays, they cheer weakly, and head their separate ways.

"Bedtime?" suggests Jackson. "I have PJ stuff, if you want."

"Sounds good."

They power everything off, Jackson finds Charlie a pair of flannel pants, a soft shirt, a toothbrush, and a facecloth, and offers her the washroom.

"Thanks." She wanders off, gets herself into 'sleep' mode, and lies down on the side of the bed with the less indented pillow.

"You mind if I ...?" Jackson yawns.

"Go for it."

"Cool." Jackson flicks off the lights, flops down beside her. "Alarm?" Crawls under the covers.

"Yep."

"Same." Bigger yawn. "Thanks for your help."

"'welcome."

"'night."

"'night."