Limitless Evolution As a Snake

Cherry put Hansen’s pink harness on the cardboard advertising duck, then asked whether we should send him a photograph of his first volunteer.

I had woken beside Lyra expecting a calm breakfast. Instead, my uncle’s latest attempt at murder had become a fashion problem on the kitchen table, and Bridget was helping adjust the straps so the duck looked properly disappointed.

”It needs a hat,” Bridget said. ”If we’re wasting his time, we should look committed.”

Lyra handed her a folded napkin. ”There you go, and welcome to the part of living with him where this counts as teamwork.”

Bridget laughed without checking whether she was allowed to, which made me happier than the duck deserved.

”I felt we should establish that I hadn’t requested any of this, although I strongly supported the direction of the investigation.”

[System: Your girlfriends have formed a criminal arts-and-crafts group, mate. Give them another hour and they’ll ransom the bloody breakfast table.]

You had suggested holding a milk counter hostage until somebody added spearmint.

[System: That was industrial action, cunt, and the demands were extremely reasonable.]

We sent the photograph to Hansen with a polite request for the harness inspection record. He replied with an insult and no record, which told us exactly how much confidence he had in the equipment.

Tasmin confirmed the crate remained sealed in the club service bay. Qualified installers would check it before power went anywhere near the drive, and nobody needed me to stare at it personally.

That left the morning free for Cherry’s plan.

She had found a pet supplier selling the two bowls from her earlier photograph, and she wanted to choose something for Dazza that didn’t arrive as a threat inside a freight order. I agreed on the condition that we bought no living snacks and nothing the keeper couldn’t approve.

”I wanted bowls, Matt,” she said. ”You’re the one who once looked at a nightmare and started discussing walking schedules.”

We left the casino together while Lyra and Bridget checked travel arrangements with the relief manager. Their work took one short conversation, not an entire day chained to a desk, and they booked seats beside each other for the journey.

The pet shop smelled of feed and warm rubber. A clerk asked what breed we owned, and Cherry showed him a plain picture of Dazza’s pen rather than a close view of the creature.

”Mixed,” she said, with enough confidence that I nearly believed the category meant something useful.

The clerk offered a chew toy guaranteed to survive heavy use. I asked whether the guarantee covered teeth in unexpected locations, and he quietly turned the display around to read its own terms.

[System: Tell him it’s a rescue, mate. We rescued it from having nobody to horrify during business hours.]

The man was already considering lunch in another building.

Cherry bought both bowls. Good Boy and Probably looked excellent side by side, and I paid sixty credits for them before she caught me considering a collar designed for something with only one neck.

She guided me outside with a hand resting against my upper length. ”You don’t need to buy every idea the minute it arrives.”

”Some of them left if I didn’t make a terrible decision quickly enough.”

”Then let those ones miss you.”

I liked how easily she said it, as if my thoughts were annoying visitors she felt no duty to entertain.

We stopped at a market game where customers used padded hooks to collect floating prizes. The operator refused my tail as equipment, so Cherry handed me the ordinary hook and helped me loop my lower length around its handle.

I missed three times while Old Mate offered advice that sounded increasingly like personal sabotage.

On the fourth attempt I caught the edge of a tiny sailor hat. Cherry cheered loudly enough to attract spectators, and I discovered that winning one cheap prize could feel better than several expensive scams when somebody cared that much about it.

She put the hat on my head, then told the operator we wanted a picture before I tried pretending the whole game had been beneath me.

”I wanted the record to show that I conquered maritime fashion through honest effort.”

”The record can also show that I paid for your extra turn,” she said, saving the photograph.

Back at the casino, Lyra admired the picture while Bridget asked whether the hat came in a less powerful size. Cherry sent it to Lukas, who replied with a request to borrow it for work.

The bowls went into our luggage for the depot delivery after we reached Ami. They hadn’t somehow arrived there already, despite my strong wish to outsource the carrying.

Cherry stayed beside me after lunch, quieter once the others left to finish packing. She said she liked having an afternoon where she didn’t have to interrupt a screen to get my attention.

I told her I liked the version of myself she found underneath all the announcements, then admitted I had no idea why she remained interested in him.

”Because he listens when he stops auditioning,” she said, touching the ridiculous sailor hat before taking it off.

She asked for time alone, and I gave her an answer that didn’t contain a joke. We went upstairs with the door closed behind us and the rest of the afternoon left outside.

By evening, the familiar replenishment had been needed and completed. Old Mate added five hundred EXP, bringing me to nineteen thousand, while my IP stayed at three hundred ten.

I rested beside Cherry until Lyra knocked to say our transport booking was confirmed. All four of us would travel to Ami after breakfast, with proper relief coverage at the casino and no excuses about somebody having to stay behind automatically.

Then Lukas called from the club, sounding far too excited for a man assigned light cleaning duties.

”The cow came with a race package,” he told me. ”Apparently the optional attraction is called The Udderly Bare Grand Prix, and the dancers want to know who’s brave enough to announce it.”