<Can I play with them for a little while?>
<No, Roxanne would be upset if you did. If she’s upset, she won’t make you any meat.>
<I didn’t chew the big man’s arm off. I’m sure she will make some meat for that. Can you ask her?>
<Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to get you any meat points. I’m glad you left his arm attached, but she’s going to be upset you mangled her security team and redecorated her lobby.>
<I didn’t mangle them. They are gently chewed. They all have their arms and legs. That deserves meat.>
<I’ll see what I can do. For now, no mangling, gentle or otherwise.>
“What the hell happened here?” Roxanne asked, without raising her voice. That was somehow more fearsome than if she had been yelling at the top of her lungs. “I expect an explanation…now.”
No one answered.
The amount of energy coming off of her would have made me mute, too. She sounded calm, but her energy signature said homicidal. I was behind some debris that resembled one of the desks. No, I wasn’t hiding—I had just found a good spot to rest after being slammed into a wall. I was engaged in active recovery.
Peaches padded over to the livid Director.
“Peaches?” she said, rubbing his head, much to Tank’s surprise. He was also engaged in active recovery behind another pile of debris. Smart man. “Where is Simon?”
My traitorous hellhound padded over to where I sat. Again, I wasn’t hiding, I was recovering. Roxanne followed Peaches over.
“Hi, Roxanne,” I said with a small wave. “Give me a second. Your knockers launched me into a wall.”
“Excuse me?”
THREE
“I mean, never mind,” I said, getting slowly to my feet. “Your new security measures are impressive. Scary, but impressive.”
“And necessary, it seems,” she answered as she surveyed the devastation in the lobby. “Why am I not surprised to see you in the center of this destruction?”
“I can explain,” I said. “It’s not what it looks—”
She held up a finger and cut me off as she turned to face the now standing Tank. I had to give him credit. Anyone else would have left the lobby running in fear. He stood his ground, trembling in place. The energy Roxanne gave off had a distinct ‘obliterating’ vibe.
Today she had blasted past annoyed and stepped firmly into anger, just this side of rage. It was an amazing and terrifying thing to experience, due to my proximity to said angry sorceress.
I’d never seen Roxanne truly angry.
Upset, yes, but full-out sorceress on a rampage about to destroy everything and everyone in her path, no. This brief glimpse into her anger made me glad I had never faced her as an enemy. I had enough scary enemies: there was no need to add one more.
“Tank,” she said quietly, and he winced. “Explain this…now.”
“It was my fault,” I said quickly, potentially taking my life into my hands and causing Tank to exhale in semi-relief. At this point it was the equivalent of my jumping on a grenade meant for him. “It was unintentional, really. A misunderstanding.”
Roxanne turned to face me again and I saw my life flash in her eyes. It was a brief moment of future agony.
“Really?” she asked, in the same gentle, homicidal tone she used earlier. “Perhaps you should clarify?”
“I walked in, but I didn’t know about the new security protocol. Then I opened my jacket.” I opened my jacket slightly, showing Roxanne my holster. “He saw my weapon and the security team reacted against what they thought was a threat to Haven.”
Roxanne narrowed her eyes at me.
Usually I was a horrible liar, but when lives were on the line—and Roxanne looked like she wanted to erase someone—I could pull off a semi-decent fabrication if it was rooted in some truth.
“Is this true?” Roxanne said, her words clipped with barely contained anger as she turned to Tank. “Is that what happened?”
I nodded almost imperceptibly behind Roxanne.
“Yes ma’am,” Tank said, quickly, with a wise sense of self-preservation. “I truly apologize for the misunderstanding, Mr. Strong.”
“What happened to your arm?” Roxanne asked, looking at what remained of Tank’s jacket, shirt, and the gentle bite marks on his arm gifted to him by my overprotective hellhound. “It’s a mess.”
“Me again,” I said, interrupting. “Or rather”—I glanced down at my sheepish puppy—“Peaches.”
My hellhound whined and ducked behind me as Roxanne looked down at him.
“How?” Roxanne asked. “Did you set your hellhound on my security team?”
“Again, another misunderstanding,” I said with a small chuckle that died away at her expression. “It’s really funny if you think about it.”
“I’m practically breathless from the hilarity of this situation…Explain, and make it plausible.”
“Well, I thought I was under attack and before I knew it, Peaches had jumped into defense mode,” I said. “I managed to stop him before he tore off”—I made a show of looking at Tank’s name badge which actually said Tank—“Tank’s arm, but just barely. Really sorry about that, Tank.”
“We’re good,” Tank said with a dismissive wave. “We aren’t really prepped to deal with monst—I mean, hellhounds. These things happen.”
“No, they don’t,” Roxanne said, her voice resembling a slab of steel slapping me in the face. “They tend to happen around Tristan and Simon more often than not, but they don’t just happen. Not around here. You and your team should be prepared for every and any eventuality—including hellhounds.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tank answered. “This won’t happen again.”
“Actually—” I started and stopped immediately as Roxanne gave me a look that said, ‘Continue at your own peril’. “Nevermind.”
“Go get that arm looked at,” Roxanne said to Tank. “I expect a full report on my desk after you’re tended to.”
“Yes, ma’am. Will do.”
Tank left the lobby a little faster than I expected, probably grateful to still be able to move under his own power after that conversation.
Roxanne turned to one of the mage cavalry that had rushed in with her. His name tag said Rogers. Rogers was currently giving me a heaping dose of stink-eye. I ignored him. I
