"You didn't know? We eventually figured out, that's why we were here, we were closing in because we'd finally figured out the, well Candi, Talon's girlfriend, had called finally, after the kidnapping and everything, and said that the people who had been hired to play you guys as parts were not doing as many scenes, yet the scenes were showing up, so someone had to be doing the parts...."
    "Clever. He's very clever, I do have to give him that."
    "Anyway, that was how we knew where you were and what had happened. And the number of times that the Phoenix Talon character in the TV show kept stating that the Toy Man was his most canny and dangerous opponent. I think that went out on national television what, twenty, thirty times in the last three weeks?"
    I laughed out loud despite my annoyance over the whole situation.
    "TV Guide actually had a commentary about that, the tag line for it, every time the character showed up he said that, and they were getting really sick of the inferior screen-writing...."
    "Oh, I can't wait 'til he turns up again." Phoenix Talon might just carry through on his threat and kill the guy if he gets the chance.
    "You obviously don't think he's really dead, after that...."
    "At this point I'm with Phoenix Talon: he's not dead unless he's actually on your coffee table."
    "Oh, yeah, that's in the Little Red Book, isn't it?"
    "The what?"
    "Oh, you haven't seen this, it's one of the tie-ins. Agglomerated MegaTelevision's working with the Blood Boards on certain things, they're doing public service announcements and stuff, and one of them handed over his book of phrases, it's actually a little pop culture craze now, they have little red books...."
    "That's, um..." Peculiar? Downright bizarre? Hysterically funny?
    "In addition to his quotes they also interspersed some stuff from the Book of Five Rings and The Art of War, translated into operating in the variant environment. Apparently it's become like a chapbook for new up and coming superheroes. Our boss bought all of us one as a joke," he shrugged.
    "That's, um..." I tried again, gave up. "Oh, poor Talon." Not something I'm in the habit of saying. I am so glad I kept away from AMC.
    "Comic book's been doing great guns ever since you guys disappeared and everything, there's probably going to be a big bonanza blitz thing, two-hour animated show, what have you, now that you guys have broken out. They've got to be all over that. But anyway, I don't want to keep boring you with this stuff—so what did you do before you got into this whole superhero thing?"
    The correct answer of course would be, I spent a few months in a nutrient tank before embarking on existence as a tool of the World Crime League.
    And people wonder why I don't like socializing.
    "Um, oh, nothing much really. Flying," I told him instead. And came to the belated, horrified realization that Neil thought we were on a date. "Um, I'll be right back." I retreated to the ladies room and replayed the recent conversation to make sure that I wasn't jumping to conclusions. I simply hadn't been paying attention; this kind of thing doesn't happen to me. Nor do I have any real information on, say letting a guy down gently. Being dumped, yes; breaking up with someone after an extensive series of screaming arguments, yes; finding out that the person "I" was dating was actually quite loathesome, yes. No letting down easy. I get the distinct impression that they didn't want us getting into situations like this.
    And of course there was and is the uneasy thought that this might very well be Their move; I figure that after Winters they have to know we'll be careful around strangers, and might try working through someone we already know. I couldn't think of any way to confirm or disprove this theory immediately, however, and I had been in the bathroom for a while now, so I returned to the table and tried not to wince at his hopeful expression.
    "So, how 'bout you?" I resumed the conversational thread.
    "Oh, well, you know, the usual....."
    A game of metaphorical ping-pong ensued, since somewhere he's picked up that it's good to get your date to talk about herself and talking about myself is pretty much the last thing I like to do. So after giving a bit of his personal life growing up in Nebraska and his time in the Army he of course asked about my childhood.
    "It's really not something I really want to talk about." Which was entirely true, but gave him the entirely wrong idea.
    "Oh. Okay." He nodded sympathetically.
    "So. Uh. Wow, look at the time." I gave my watch an I-hope-not-too-obviously-desperate glance.
    "Let me give you a ride back?"
    There was no graceful way to refuse, and while I was feeling decent now it was a long flight back to Boston alone, so I nodded.
    "Um, check?—I'll get this, don't worry," he told me, flagging down our waiter.
    I hated to let him do it, but I actually had no choice. "Good, because I just realized I don't have any money." Being kidnapped is annoying in more ways than one. He paid up, and we headed back to where he'd left the helicopter parked.
    "Do you want to try your hand at the controls for a little bit?"
    "Sure."
    "She's a little sensitive."
    "I'll be gentle."
    Sweet, sweet machine; if only humans were so amenable and easily understood. The unfamiliarity of it constrained the conversation to practicalities on the way home, so that was handy. I breathed a silent sigh of relief as we landed without further verbal mishaps.
    "So I'll meet you tomorrow, say around four?" he asked after landing on our island.
    "Just come out to base, I suppose." I hope we're going to be busy. I really don't know what to do about this. There's a goodly part of me saying that I could simply pretend I never noticed anything, let him go home on Tuesday and never talk to him again. That wouldn't be too hard. Seems kind of mean, maybe, but dammit, he didn't tell me he thought we were on a date. His own fault for not checking to see if I had any interest in anything of the sort beforehand.
    "So, I'll see you around then?" He looked way too happy. I gave a half-hearted wave as he took off, and headed inside, shaking my head. There was a bulky package on the table addressed to me; something soft, with a familiar French label. It's sitting on the bed while I write, unopened.

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