People Skills (ye olde classic edition)

To her subordinates, she was known as “Commander Abernathy”.
(Or just “Commander”.) To her business peers, it was “Miss Abernathy”. To
strangers, it was “Ma’am”, or “Madam”, or something similar. It was a strange
thing to miss, being referred to as one’s own name, but she couldn’t help but
feel nostalgic for the days before she had assumed command of the Nexus Force.
In her position of power, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat dehumanized, like
she was nothing more than a link in the chain of command. Her power wasn’t even
ultimate, which was somewhat underwhelming. (Even if it was to be expected.)
She still had to answer to the council that collectively ruled the Nimbus System,
formed after the decision was made that no one person should have had the right
to rule over what was essentially the entire world. There were also the Nexus
Force’s investors – while she didn’t technically answer to them, she had to
stay on their good side.

Another key problem was the monotonous nature of the
lifestyle. When it wasn’t stressful or panic-inducing, being a leader was often
just boring. What exacerbated this issue of hers was how impersonal everything
was. Her partner, Dante, was also a leader – but at least he was the leader of
a small and closely-knit group that functioned as much as a group of friends as
it did a military sub-unit. Despite commanding thousands, Plue didn’t have a
selection of compatriots in that same way. It was slightly depressing, when she
thought about it.

Her office – drab, with grey carpet and pale blue walls –
only echoed these sentiments. The sun was nowhere to be seen, with the outside
world instead being obscured by fog that had swept low over Nimbus Station the
previous night. A set of electric lights were embedded in the ceiling, shining
sterile light upon the room, and a single desk lamp (made of plastic a vivid
green, the brightest thing in the office) stood guard beside her mountain of
paperwork. The small metal bin under her desk was overflowing with crumpled
pieces of paper and dead pens, as further testament to her workload.

When the knock on her office’s door rang out, she was shaken
from a light nap – both a disappointment and an embarrassment. Hastily, he
rubbed her eyes and straightened her sleeves before yelling “Enter!” more
loudly than she had meant to. No sooner than giving the order was she greeted
by the visage of one Jackson de Graft van Endelblem – one of her assistants.
Her spirits fell slightly. Endelblem’s eccentricity of name was matched only by
his dullness of character. Not to say that he was unlikable, or that she didn’t
appreciate the work he did for her, but the lack of real connection between him
and her was something of a dampener on their interactions.

“Commander Abernathy.” He sounded as though he were reading
the words from a teleprompter. His eyes were a colourless brown, and he blinked
so infrequently that it was a little disturbing. “I have been sent to remind
you about the meeting you have with Generals Mormont and Pritchett.” Every word
seemed to be dragged from his mouth, as if he were living in slow motion.

“Understandable.” Plue faced the man with what she hoped was
a neutral expression (instead of the fatigue and exasperation she felt).
However, she saw the man’s eyes slowly roll. Had she been found out?

“Commander, it won’t do to be so ambivalent.” He lectured
softly. Well, at least he hadn’t known that she had been asleep a minute ago.

“Ambivalent? Well, yes and no.” Plue stalled for time as she
let herself wake up fully, rising lazily from her seat. Her tie swung
downwards, and brushed against her desk. Her bangs began to dip into her field
of vision, and she fumbled around for the clip that normally kept them in
place. “No new situations, good or bad, have arisen since the last time we met,
so why should I care?”

Endelblem was opening his mouth to reply when another voice
rang out from behind him.

“Commander!”

Plue couldn’t help but grin at the sound of her favourite
assistant’s voice. Perhaps it was inappropriate to have chosen a favourite
assistant (out of her three), but she hadn’t been able to resist.

“Gunner.” She nodded in greeting as the man’s flustered face
appeared over Endelblem’s shoulder. Gunner was older than he looked and acted,
over the age of thirty, and was working in the Nexus Force as more of an intern
than an actual employee. How he had been entrusted with assisting her or all
people, she wasn’t yet entirely sure, but she was willing to overlook it in her
gratefulness for his presence. He was highly energetic, livening up the place
wherever he went, and she could always count on moral support from him in
trying times.

“Commander!” He said again, clearly flustered. Sweat ran
down brow. “The meeting!”

“I know.” Plue assured him, stepping around her desk and
adjusting her cobalt-blue tie. “I’m on my way to meet the generals now.”

“The generals?” Gunner pulled back for a minute, clearly
perturbed, before focusing on her again. “I thought you were meeting the investors?”

“The *investors*?”
Plue said the word “investors” the same way other people may have said
something profane. There was no love lost between her and them. She turned to
Endelblem. “Wasn’t it the generals?”

“I thought it was.” Endelblem remained annoyingly
undisturbed by this turn of events. “Perhaps Luna double-booked you again.”

“That would be classic Luna.” Gunner admitted, turning an
apologetic gaze upon Plue. Luna was her third assistant – a passive and
well-meaning woman who was distressingly bad at organisation. Similar to
Gunner, how she had landed her job was a mystery. Normally, Plue didn’t mind a
bit of disorganisation. Under circumstances like these, however, such mistakes
were a lot more trying.

“Well, isn’t that just a kick in the head.” Plue muttered,
before turning to face the two men in her doorway. “Okay. Endelblem, tell
Mormont and Pritchett that I’m going to be late, assuming I’m still alive in an
hour. Gunner, you’re with me.”

Both men saluted, stepping to the sides as Plue strode between
them and out of the doorway. Her flats clicked against the ground as she strode
forwards, and she could hear Gunner’s footsteps behind her as he struggled to
keep up and maintain a professional appearance at the same time. She
unconsciously clenched and unclenched her fists several times as the adrenaline
started to flow through her. She was a warrior, striding towards the field of
battle. Awaiting her lay enemies of a distressing calibre. The stakes were
high. She would be on her own, surrounded by foes.

She almost *pitied*
them.

After an undetermined amount of time, she found herself
standing in front of a door that was unambiguously marked “meeting room”. At
its centre was one of those windows made of patterned and distorted glass; she
could kind of see into the meeting room, but at the same time, she mostly
couldn’t.

“Should I, uh… should I go?” Her assistant’s voice brought
her back to reality. This was happening.

“Oh, please stay, Gunner.” She said. “I need a witness, in
case this is all an elaborate assassination attempt.”

“Wouldn’t they just kill me, too?” He posited. Plue
considered his question for a brief moment, then shook her head with a smile,
patting the sword that she had taken to carry at her hip. (If it was good
enough for Duke Exeter, it was good enough for her.)

“Don’t worry, I’d buy you time. Now -” she placed a hand on
the door “- let’s get in there!”

The door swung open with a click, and Plue stepped into the
room, Gunner on her heels. The room – the room of dread, the torture chamber,
the execution lounge – was long. Very long. Almost as long as said room was the
table that had been stretched down the middle, with at least twenty chairs.
Every single chair (except for the one at the head of the table) was filled
with a character in a suit. Their personalities, Plue had discovered, ranged
from “neutral” to “utterly unlikable” – at least, in her book. Not one of them
she could call a friend, or even really a friendly acquaintance. The
unfortunate part was that the organisation under her control was dependent on
their finances and resources. Without any one of these investors, the Nexus
Force would surely crumble.

The *fortunate*
part, on the other hand, was that these investors weren’t keen on the idea of
the Nexus Force falling, as that would result in their deaths-by-maelstrom. So,
they wouldn’t just leave at the drop of a hat… or the drop of an insult. Sad to
say, some of the people in the room seemed to possess a personal vendetta
against Plue – whether it was her age, or gender, or apparent inexperience, she
wasn’t quite sure. What she *was* sure
about was that she would never let them get away with looking down on her for
an unfair reason. After their first meeting – one of the worst days of her life
– she had quickly realised that many of these investors possessed nothing but
contempt for her. Diplomacy was important, yes, but it was also important to
not let yourself be walked over. And Plue had absolutely no intention of being
bossed around by old fogeys in suits.

“Miss Abernathy.” The voice came from one of the men seated
at the table – a mister Wilberforce. He was probably the closest thing to a
friend Plue had amongst the investors. That being said, the bar was low, so two
weren’t exactly on friendly terms. His hair was dyed a jet black to hide his
greys, and his thin-frame glasses desperately clung onto his thin nose to avoid
dropping off his face. “Good of you to join us.”

The tone of voice with which he delivered this line was
perfectly sincere, but his phrasing was enough to make Plue pause for a moment.
Just a moment, though, as she took her seat and leant back in it, folding one
leg over the other. Gunner, lacking anywhere to sit, settled for standing rigidly
behind his superior and schooling his expression into one of the utmost
passiveness.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting.” Plue said, trying to muster
enough sincerity to avoid sounding sarcastic. “I found myself double-booked,
which was a bit of a pain to sort out. But I’m here now.” She folded her arms.
“What did you all want to talk to me about?”

“We wanted to ensure that our money was being well-spent, is
all.” Someone else said. Plue knew the man only by Michael, and had no
intention of learning any more information about him. He looked like an
overweight llama, and had a similar temperament, being quite vindictive of
anyone he thought was squandering his precious finances. This, of course, meant
that Plue was usually in his firing line.

“Understood.” Plue droned. “Though, I can’t help but feel as
though we had this conversation last week. Twice.”

“In is in our best interest to affirm with you – in person –
that no new circumstances have arisen.” Michael replied, and most of the other
investors nodded their heads. “We know how trying leadership can be, and
circumstances are liable to change extraordinarily quickly.”

Plue narrowed her eyes. It was a common tactic of Michael’s,
to allude to the difficulties of leadership. The subtext, of course, was that
she was unqualified for her position, and should give up. Hell if that was
going to happen.

“Whilst I appreciate your concern, I will inform you if our
financial situation changes, and for whatever reason.” She stated firmly. “I
recall personally informing you on the change between last year’s required
finances and this year’s, as well as being as advisory as possible when
Division Seven was shut down, and you suddenly found yourself with investment
to spare. *And* there was the fact that
I approached you directly, not a week after being officially promoted, to
discuss with you the funding of our offshoot organisation, Pandemonium’s Bane.”

“Which-” Someone began to say – she couldn’t see who – but
she had a feeling she knew what was going to be said, and took it upon herself
to speak first.

“Which has been very successful over the past couple of years,
and proven itself a valuable asset to this organisation, right?”

There was no reply. Instead, silence abruptly filled the
room. Plue closed her eyes for a brief moment, only able to hear the sound of
her own breathing.

“Whilst I appreciate your concern, ladies and gentlemen, if
there is nothing new to report, I should go.”

Plue made a move to stand up, but then hesitated. Another
one of the investors – a woman whose name Plue hadn’t quite gotten yet – had
raised her hand, like a schoolchild in a class. Fearing what fresh hell might
well be unleashed, Plue nodded her head in the other woman’s direction,
indicating that she should speak.

“Miss Abernathy.” She spoke slowly. Very slowly. Ominously
slowly. Oh, heck, what was coming? “Though I wouldn’t be as audacious as to
claim to speak for all of us, I might venture to assume that my opinion is
commonplace.” The woman paused. Whoever she was, she looked quite a bit like a
vulture, with a long and bowed neck and wrinkled skin. There was an eyepatch
over one of her eyes, which made her look a bit like some kind of supervillain…
which wasn’t exactly reassuring. “I think it would be wise for you to name a
successor. At the very least, consider potential candidates to succeed you.”

Oh.

Plue observed the other investors nodding and muttering
amongst one another as she considered the question. Even though she herself had
genuinely thought hard about who might be able to take over from her if the
worst came to the worst, it was kind of a surprise for the investors to point
that out. Not that she *wanted* to be
horrible and suspicious, but knowing them, there was probably some kind of
ulterior motive involved.

To their credit, it wasn’t completely irrational. Plue *had* taken to the apparent Sentinel
tradition of personally leading one’s armies and missions, and had diced with
death on a number of occasions. But…

“Last I checked, we were going by the primogeniture
argument.” Plue protested, referring to the traditional method of changing
faction leaders that had been set in place by her predecessor, Duke Exeter.

“Last we checked, you didn’t have any direct heirs.” Michael
took his chance to croon, face contorting into a sadistic sort of satisfaction
as he threw the book at Plue. And… yeah, he had a point. Especially considering
her dangerous lifestyle – her youth wouldn’t be much of an excuse.

“Also, even if you were to have children,” the eyepatch
woman continued, her voice little more than a whisper, “the child would not be
of age for some time. If you were to resign or perish beforehand, there would
have to be some kind of regency. The whole system is impractical when compared
to named successors.”

Plue looked back to Gunner, who was eying her nervously.
They were *definitely* pushing for
something here, but what… oh. *Oh*.

“Let me guess.” Plue didn’t even try to conceal her disdain
as she eyed the various investors. “You all have either a single candidate, or
an entire selection of candidates, for me to view and be pressured into
approving of.”

It was satisfying, she had to admit, to see an entire room
of people blanch in tandem. Yes, that was it. Through manipulating her choice
of successor, they could then get to work on pressuring or convincing her to
resign. Once that happened, their chosen one would run the Nexus Force however
they wanted – presumably to focus on the protection of them and their assets
rather than the Nimbus System as a whole. Maybe they’d advertise themselves as
the system’s protectors to gain public appeal, or something like that. (Having
been kept anonymous thus far, to Plue’s knowledge.) It wasn’t very logical, to
look out for number one at the potential expense of very large numbers of
people, but Plue had lost enough faith in humanity to consider it an entirely
viable course of action for this group of vultures.

“What purpose would you have for a candidate of your choice
to be in command, I wonder? Need I remind you,” she raised her voice slightly,
“that I’m not obligated to meet all of your demands. Most of these meetings
I’ve been having with you are just me trying to improve relations, because God
help us all if this organisation falls apart. Your job is to keep us
financially afloat, and that’s technically it. Decisions in leadership are, I’m
sorry to say, beyond your stations.”

“Obviously.” Snarled Michael, no longer looking quite as
pleased with himself. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting in that chair.”

Thus was war declared.

“I have no intention of naming a successor for the
foreseeable future.” Plue stated, as clearly as humanly possible. “I am
confident in my common sense and field skill to keep me alive until such a time
as I can consider retire naturally.”

“Exeter shared that same confidence.” A woman,
something-something Jones, said. “And look what happened to him.”

“Exeter was well beyond eligible for retirement.” Plue
decided to *not* focus on the blatant
disrespect for the dead, and instead stick to the logic that they would find
harder to mock and criticize. “As such, he died in the line of duty as, I
believe, he wanted. Knowing full well that he had a successor in me.” She
glowered around the room, before speaking again. “I do not yet have the
failsafe of a decided successor, and I will thusly keep myself out of danger
whenever possible. But all things considered, I would appreciate it if you
didn’t hassle me about such matters so soon into my assumption of this
position.”

“Miss Abernathy.” The old woman said again, looking a bit
more peeved. “When I was your age, I talked just the way you are talking now.”

“It’s a pity I didn’t know you at your best.” Remarked Plue,
abandoning the idea of holding herself back. If they were going to insult both
her and her predecessor, *and* try to
exert a non-existent authority over here, she was not going to humour them with
any sort of faux politeness. That, and she hadn’t really forgotten how bullied
and weak they made her feel whenever they met. It was hard to.

She really didn’t like these people.

“Yes, well,” the old bat looked somewhat startled at being
interrupted like that, “I convinced myself that I could do anything I so
wished. With my youth, I was foolish enough to believe that I could keep
command of my station for-”

“If you abandoned that mindset, then *why are you here*?” Plue emphasised. “Where’s the successor that you
chose for yourself, doing the work that you apparently can’t do anymore?”

The old woman blanched again, and gave no answer. Plue
turned her attention to the rest of the investors.

“All of you are decades older than me, and yet here you are,
doing the same jobs – or even, more stressful jobs. Some of you are even
throwing your weight around, like far younger men and women.” She glared at
Michael. “If all of you can continue working well beyond your youth, then why
can’t I?”

“Our jobs aren’t as deadly as yours, Abernathy.” Wilberforce
pointed out, looking like he was almost enjoying himself. Plue found this both
endearing and irritating.

“On the contrary.” She stated, folding her arms. “My
experience of business thus far is that it is almost as intense as war, and
just as dangerous.”

“You say that.” Remarked Michael, leaning backwards in his
chair with a satisfied smirk on his face, probably of the opinion that he had
caught her out, or something. Well, Plue would be the judge of that. “And yet
you often look *incredibly* bored
during our meetings. For instance, must you always fall asleep while I’m
speaking?”

“No, it’s purely voluntary.” Plue said. “I refuse to waste
my time on inanities when I’ve got a war to win.”

“You seem so sure that I don’t have anything productive to
say.” Michael snarled. “Perhaps you would think otherwise, if you actually
listened to what I had to say.”

“I did my listening – over half a year of it – and I’ve talked
to rocks that were both more helpful and more compelling than you.” Plue
retorted, because she’d honestly had enough of this entire conversation. Plus,
it wasn’t like she was lying. There was Raelyn, after all. “Subtle as you may
consider yourself to be, your disdain for me and all of my characteristics was
immensely obvious after nothing more than our first meeting. If you’re not
going to show me any respect while trying to commandeer *my* organisation, then what makes you think I’m going to respect you
in kind?”

Michael leant back in his chair, silent. Nobody else around
the table spoke for several long seconds. Eventually, Plue wordlessly and stood
up, Gunner giving a small start behind her.

“Well, you’ve heard my stance on the matter.” She sighed.
“If nothing else has anything more to say, than I bid you all farewell.” And
with that, she turned and walked towards the door.

“You should dress more feminine, Miss Abernathy. You look
almost like a man.”

Michael’s voice. She smirked. He was desperate enough, lacking
enough in genuine arguments to insult her clothing? How pathetic.

“So do you.” She called back to him without turning around.
With that, she slid the door open and stepped coolly through, listening to her
assistant trotting along behind her. It was only after several seconds of
walking, and the sound of the door closing, that she felt comfortable enough
let her head loll back and sigh up at the ceiling, squinting in the bright
lights.

“Do you, uh…” Gunner seemed slightly lost for words. “Do you
need a moment, Ma’am?”

She forced herself to stand back upright, before turning to
her assistant with a shaky smile on her face.

“And onto my next appointment.” She said sombrely, before
turning and striding towards where she was next scheduled to be.

\*\*\*\_\*\*\_\*\*\*

“Give me hot chocolate or give me death…” Plue sung softly
to herself, before collapsing face-first onto a sofa. Breathing through
stuffing, her singing was somewhat muffled, but she could still hear her
partner laughing.

“Hate to say it, but I might have used the last of the chocolate
powder this morning.” He sounded bashful – Plue could picture him rubbing the
back of his neck.

“Nooooooo…” She moaned softly, and he laughed again.

“How do you wanna die?” She felt his hand find a place on
her shoulder, his palm cool against her sweaty back. Turning her face
partially, she could see through one eye Dante apologetically smiling at her.
Not that he was normally easy to stay mad at, but she didn’t even have the
energy to reprimand him for denying her her precious supply of hot chocolate.
(Her favourite drink.) The gel was losing its effect on his chestnut-brown
hair, which meant it was beginning to droop over his forehead. Tracking her
gaze, he hastily ran a hand through his bangs, pushing them upward. Plue grinned.

“Fetch me my sword, squire.” She mumbled. “I shall fall on
it with honour, to spare myself a life without hot chocolate.”

“How melodramatic of you.” Dante lamented, proceeding to
fall on top of her. She gave a gasp as the wind was knocked out of her lungs.
“If I’m a squire, then what are you? A knight?”

“Sounds about right…” Plue muttered softly, fatigue catching
up with her after the day she had had. “I mean, I run around in armour and with
a sword some of the time…”

“Sounds good to me.” Dante chuckled – though both of them
fell silent at the sound of a knock on the front door. Eyes narrowing
suspiciously, Dante pushed himself off of Plue and the sofa, and ambled
hesitantly to the door. “Were you expecting anyone?”

“No.” Plue said, sitting up on the sofa and beginning to
feel more awake. If it was some kind of emergency meeting…

Dante didn’t respond, instead peering through the one-way
peephole in the door to see who was on the other side. He leant forward, drew
back in surprise, and tugged open the door in one swift movement. Plue couldn’t
quite see who was on the other side, but it certainly seemed a surprise to
Dante. After a moment of flailing, he stepped to the side and allowed their
visitor to step inside. Plue all but jumped in surprise, physically moving
backwards on the sofa.

It was her father.

With greying, dirty blonde hair, and eyes that were a shade
or two lighter than Plue’s own, there was a definite resemblance to be found
between the two. He wore a jacket and shirt, and slacks, and looked like the
strived-for fine line between formality and casual-ness. His glasses were on
his forehead – had he forgotten they were there again? He shook Dante’s hand,
even as the other man looked all but shell-shocked, and then turned and began
to stride towards the living room. There was no door – they could already
clearly see one another.

Surprise from her partner and her aside, it looked like a
parent casually visiting a child.

The only issue was that she hadn’t spoken to either of her
parents for around three years.

“Hello, Plue.” Her father said, softly. His steps were
slightly tentative, as if he were afraid to scare her of. Not that that was
going to happen – Plue felt as though she couldn’t have moved it she wanted to,
so paralysed was she by surprised. For a few seconds, neither of them moved or
said anything, as if time itself had held up its arms and said “time out – let
me process this”.

“Um.” She managed to eventually say, which was *really* eloquent of her. Her father
laughed.

“Sorry for dropping in on you.” He grinned apologetically.
“I know you don’t like surprises, but you’d be surprised how hard it was for me
to actually find out where you were living now.” He sighed. “Until we saw the
news, and saw that you were the new leader of the Nexus Force, we weren’t even
sure if you were still…” He trailed off, expression downcast. Had- had her
parents thought that she was dead? But of course. Of course they would. Years
without contact, what else would they think?

It wasn’t for lack of trying. No. For months, she had had an
email open in her browser, prepared to be sent to her parents – but the words
had just never come. At most, she had gotten through half a paragraph before
deleting the whole thing. It had just never… felt right. She had wanted her message
– her apology – to be just right, and had never gotten it quite down to a tee.
And now, here her dad was.

“I wanted to send an email.” She explained. “I just…”

“I know.” He smiled. “I figured, to tell you the truth.
Communication was never your…” He paused mid-sentence again, considering his
words.

“Strong suit? Forte?” Plue suggested vocally, unable to bear
the silence (which was something of a change).

Her dad chuckled. “I guess. Though, I was going to go with
“greatest strength”.”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s true.” Plue nodded, looking anywhere
except at her father’s face. If she were to look into his eyes… “So, you wanted
to see me?”

“Plue.” He said softly, ambling towards her and sitting down
by her side on the sofa. Turning his neck to the right, he stared at her. “We
didn’t part on the best of terms. Rather, you didn’t part on the best of terms
with me and your mother.”

“No.” Plue shook her head. “That we didn’t.”

“I wanted to apologize.”

She stopped and looked up at him. He took off his glasses,
playing with the metal in his fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she could
see Dante awkwardly standing in the corner, unsure of his place in the
conversation.

“When you said you wanted to join the Nexus Force, I don’t
think it’s much of an exaggeration to say that your mother panicked. She always
*said* that she didn’t want you risking
your life, and that your uncle was a bad influence, but I think she was mostly
just scared of losing you the same way she lost him. He wasn’t much of a
presence in your life, was he? Always working. She didn’t… she didn’t want to
see you slave your whole life away just to keep the gears of war turning. Didn’t
want to see another family member up and vanish – especially not her own
daughter.”

Plue, by this point, had averted her gaze, unable to face
her father.

“And then I up and left anyway.”

“Yeah.” Her father’s agreement sounded resigned. “But it was
what you wanted to do, and I – both of us – should have respected that. At any
rate-” a small amount of life seemed to return to his voice. “You sure seem to
be pretty good at it! Even if it does strike me as being a bit young to, you
know, lead an army, I don’t think anyone could really complain about your
performance.”

“You… you think so?” Plue hesitantly contributed to the
conversation. Most of her was still in shock that the conversation was still
happening, that her father was really in her house, and that they were talking
about their problems rationally and civilly – even *lovingly*.

“*I* think so.”
Dante’s voice cut in. When father and daughter turned to face him, he paled
slightly and took an appeasing step backwards. “I mean, it’s probably not my
station or anything, but Plue’s done nothing but kick ass and take names since
taking charge of the Nexus Force, you know? She’s… fought hard, and worked
hard, and – did you know, she goes to meetings? And she can talk to people
about stuff?”

Plue flushed in spite of herself, especially after hearing
her father exclaim:

“Really?”

Dante grinned and walked over. “The reason I’ve got my team
and job is because she was in a meeting with a bunch of strangers for a whole
day, and convinced them that my idea was a good one.”

“…Unbelievable.” Was all Plue heard before her father had
enveloped her in a hug. “You did that? You really did that?”

“I… yeah.” Plue managed to choke out. “It’s not like it was
easy or anything, it was-”

“It sounds amazing!” Her father all but yelled, still with
his arms around her. “You could never have done that three years ago, you know
that?” He turned to Dante, excited. “Do you know that?”

“Yep!” Dante grinned. “And I… I’m really proud of her.”

Plue’s heart beat a little faster in her chest. Her father
stopped laughing abruptly, clearing his throat before turning to Dante, Plue
observed, with a relatively serious look on his face.

“What’s, uh… what’s your status, anyway? Are you two…”

Both Dante and Plue flushed, but Plue realised, with a rush
of happy adrenaline, that there was finally good news to report on that front.

“Y…yeah.” Plue responded softly. “We’re… together, I guess.”

Her father sighed, and affectionately slung an arm around
Plue’s shoulder.

“About time.” He muttered, before eying Dante.

“When
I found out she was moving in with a guy, I… well, I was worried. As any
self-respecting father should be. But the way she spoke about you whenever we
talked, as soon as the first time we talked after she moved in with you… oh,
that was the sound of young love if ever I heard it. I’d say my girl fell for
you fast and hard, whether she knew it or not.”

Plue would have vocally asked to be struck down now – to be
spared from the utter embarrassment of the moment – but feared that not even
death would destroy the memory. Dante looked as flustered as Plue had ever seen
him, even while a sly grin was appearing on his face.

“Oh- oh really?” He managed. Her father, seemingly unaware
of the awkwardness he had bestowed on the pair nodded sagely.

“Yeah. I don’t think I need to tell you to look after her or
anything like that, because you’re a smart kid and you know what’s up. But just
so you know. You clearly mean the world to her, so I expect the same sort of
commitment back. No running out on her without a good reason. Got it?”

Dante saluted. “Sir!”

Her father cackled like a hyena. “There we go. Say, did I
ever tell you about the time when my daughter…”

Thus began around three hours of small talk, storytelling,
and general laughter and bonding. The three – Plue, her father, and Dante –
must have declined about a dozen phone calls between them. Their lives were on
hold, in a pocket of nostalgia, and as far as Plue were concerned they never
had to start again. Unfortunately, however, time was not literally standing
still, and so soon came time for her father to leave. He and Dante exchanged
masculine handshake-hugs, and then he was facing his daughter.

“Smokes, Plue.” He kissed the top of her head, ruffled her
hair. “I’m so proud of you. How far you’ve come with the whole socialising
thing, you know?”

“…Yeah.” Plue nodded. After a brief moment, she met her
father’s eyes. He sighed through his nose, smiling.

“You’ve built a great life here for yourself, kiddo. And I’m
not asking you to come back if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Truth be told, it *had*
been something that Plue had been concerned about – if only because she had
dreaded the idea of telling her parents that she couldn’t go back to them. Her
responsibilities were with her faction, and her friends.

“I just…” Her father hesitated, searching for the right
words once again. Odd, she thought – she remembered him as being so good with
words. Perhaps they had more in common than she realised. “I just hope that me
– and your mum – can still be a part of that life of yours. If you’ll have us...”

Plue sniffled, and hugged her father tightly.

“Of course you can.” She all but sobbed. “Of course you
can.”

“Glad to hear it.” She felt the rumble of her father’s
voice, her head pressed against his chest. Another brief moment passed, and she
pulled away. The two looked into one another’s eyes for a moment longer, and
then he was leaving. And then he was gone. And it was just her and Dante, alone
again.

“That long?”

Plue turned to Dante, whose facial expression was something
unidentifiable.

“You… you liked me for that long?”

Plue shrugged.

“I’m a creature of habit. And, as luck would have it, we
stayed together long enough for that attachment to keep.” She smiled. “I guess
I just…” she trailed off, silenced by Dante’s lips on hers. Just like that, all
capacity for rational thought was gone. Like she was slipping into some wonderful
dream. He shifted slightly, pulling her closer, before breaking contact and
leaning away from her, grinning slyly.

“Man, we have *got*
to work on your communication.”

“…Thanks.” The capacity for brainpower and physical action
was slowly returning, though everything still felt quite sluggish. Honestly,
Plue had figured that he’d stop having this effect on her after a while, but
alas and alack. Kisses still made her feel just a little light-headed. “Though
I feel like I’ve made a lot of progress since then…” She faltered, then spoke
again. “You know, I met with the investors again today.”

Dante’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “Are you-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She reassured him, suddenly anxious.
Both Dante and Raelyn felt little more than disdain towards the investors
(albeit for very different reasons), and every time they were brought up in
conversation, a part of her feared that he’d do something rash. “The point is
that I’ve… I’ve made progress. I can handle them. Like, I was actually able to
go to *another* meeting after I’d
finished with them today. They’re not that bad anymore, Dante. I can handle
myself. And that…” She smiled, shakily but warmly, at him. (At least, she *hoped* it was warm. It wasn’t like she
could really tell, herself.) “That shows my progress.”

He stared at her intensely for a moment longer, before
nodding.

“Alright.” He decided, out loud. “I’m trusting you on this.”
He smiled. “I know that you like to work through this stuff on your own, and
I’m coming to terms with the idea of… like, giving you space. Just let me know
if you need any help.”

She sighed, satisfied. “Thanks, Dante.”

“Seriously, if you need anyone threatened or-”

“Thanks, Dante.”

“Raelyn says she’d be happy to-”

“*Thanks, Dante*.”