The building was on the very edge separating New Town from Old Town. Just a few miles down the street, Shilloh would start seeing PAAW gated communities holding a significant population of civilian PAAW members and customers.

  Any were could pay dues and join. In exchange, they would get access to information, training courses, special afterschool clubs, and other resources. They didn't have to be fighters or willing to rough it.

  But a frontier town like Forsythe would be for serious members only. People who worked for PAAW or had signed contracts subsidizing houses and school costs if they were willing to live somewhere dangerous and act as a buffer species.

  Even now, Old Town had a large Were population, mostly old folks who had said no to the New Town relocation offers when PAAW sold the original city infrastructure back to the state.

  Shilloh had just crossed into the area they would have moved into after that reselling. It wasn't necessarily a ring around Old Town. More of an asymmetric layer of padding between Old Town and the deep woods. There were plenty of brutalist structures and guard towers. Still, nicer buildings were already popping up now that safety had been established.

  The address she had been summoned to was a three-story, low, squat office building. It had a sign with some flowers underneath stating that it was the Earnest Bosch Memorial Office Block.

  Inside was a medium-sized entry room, a small security desk, a bank of elevators (more than half with signs saying they were waiting for repairs), and signs telling her the correct floors for accounting, recruiting, acquisitions, or anything else she needed.

  If not for the massive Blight Bane logo across the floor, it could have passed as a much more boring company's building.

  A friendly young security guard called up to the second floor for her, but she couldn't reach Wade or Jasque. So, Shilloh was asked to choose a seat and wait. The lobby took up less than a third of the building's footprint but had claimed the entire east wall.

  She took the wall farthest from the front parking lot for no particular reason. Then, lo-and-behold, she discovered why no one had been able to answer the phone and escort her up. Wade and Jasque stood outside under a little awning, watching the back parking lot.

  Jasque was leaning against a wall not far from where a small pile of pine needles and detritus had accumulated by an employee-only door with a keypad. Wade was next to him and appeared to be getting bitched at for something.

  Shilloh saw them and felt her sullen annoyance surge. Seems like they had forgotten to mention something important to her, hadn't they?

  It was hard to not read it as intentional. It was the sort of mistake that could waste a lot of time. Which seemed like something two type A assholes who lamented the impact of every minute not spent killing forest animals would think about.

  She crossed her legs and smiled a very sharp smile.

  "Excuse me, sir," she called to the security guard in her nicest, most friendly voice. Would you happen to have the time?"

  He checked and answered. Then, with someone here who would confirm what time she arrived and that they were the ones wasting her time, she settled back to let them marinate for a little.

  ~~~

  The first thing she noticed, neither of them looked as shitty as she felt, which seemed unfair.

  Jasque was perfectly put together, everything neat and arranged. The only things askew were stylistic choices that he probably strategically picked up on from magazines and thought were subtle.

  It was pretty obvious, though. His boots were not shined, per se. They had small scuffs and some fine dust dulling them. But the leather was recently conditioned and too well maintained for someone who didn't actually care. His face was not perfectly shaved, but the amount of stubble was always the exact same no matter how often she saw him. And it made her laugh to think that he probably had to shave at strange hours or in a weird setting to laboriously maintain his 'I don't care about my looks' appearance.

  And Wade, well, Wade just looked nice. He was wearing what appeared to be his default: a shirt tucked into cargo pants with a somewhat silly amount of weapons.

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  Today, he had on a henley shirt. With his arms crossed, she could see biceps and the long line of lat connecting the back of the shoulder to narrow hips standing out.

  She glanced over his belt and idly tried to pick out which pouch was linked to his quick-release spell. Or maybe one of his dumber weapons was where he had it, and everything else was to make sure no one snatched it and stripped him in the middle of a Waffle House.

  A few interesting images came to her mind. But she dismissed them for now.

  She was angry. Honestly, she told herself while re-crossing her legs, the man looked like a nerd. Like a gear-sexual who polished his weapons instead of going out.

  Unfortunately, being fit was the ultimate fashion accessory. A defined jaw and a flat stomach implied that he was actually very fashionable, and maybe everyone else was dressed funny while he was completely reasonable.

  'Asshole,' she thought, trying not to think about her own belly.

  She glared when Wade, speaking inaudibly through the glass, pushed off the wall and bent to grab something.

  He gently brushed a worm off of the cement and into his hand. Still occupied by the conversation with Jasque, he absentmindedly scratched an open spot of dirt into the grass, dropped the worm into it, and brushed a thin layer of soil back on top of the little creature.

  It was disarming, but not in a charming way. It was disarming in a violent, confrontational way. Shilloh—despite having calmed significantly—had come here ready to stand up for herself and defend her intelligence.

  And he had knocked the lingering rage right out of her hands with all the thoughtless ease of an action hero disarming a stunt double.

  It was strange and disorienting, resulting in her having a brief moment of emotional double vision. The person who had lied to her and frustration felt like a different Wade than the worm-saving one she was looking at.

  The worm-saving version was the Wade she associated with a flash of smiling blue-grey eyes. The lying, ambivalent journeyman to Jasque's assholery was a branch breaker who lied to her as easily as it swung a sword.

  While she was finding herself once again deeply annoyed by the human capacity for empathy complicating her once simple life, Wade was still bent down by the grass. Jasque's foot smacked his back just hard enough that it probably stung.

  Wade stood up, body language cringing, obviously apologizing, and tried to mimic the man who had just kicked him. He stood perfectly straight, balanced, neutral, and ready to kill at a moment's notice.

  Shilloh was through the door without thinking about anything other than that she had preferred him crouched by the worm with dirt on his hands.

  As soon as Jasque saw her, his eyes flickered. They scanned for threats, and a genial mask fell over him. Feigned casualness and greasy charm coated him thicker than a duck dumped in an oil spill.

  "Hey. I love those joggers! They make me think of that one singer—"

  "Shut up, Jasque. I don't need your bullshit fake charm," She held the door open and waved them in. "Come on, Wade. I'm sure we all have work we need to do.."

  Jasque's eyebrows flickered as he simulated hiding a flash of hurt and confusion. "All right," he said, drawing out the world and glancing at Wade. "Cool, lets—"

  "Hssst," she hissed, pointing at him like he was a bad cocker spaniel.

  "What are you—"

  "Ahp Ahp Ahp, no. None of that. Go back to cold eyes and weighing me like a slab of beef. We have all had a long few days. Putting on masks is a waste of energy at this point, so let's just skip it. I would like to finish our work and get back to my usual freelancing as quickly as possible. Please."

  Wade stared at her with his mouth hanging slightly open. Maybe people weren't usually this straightforward with Jasque.

  Also, maybe, just maybe, Shilloh had a problem with bullies.

  The dark-haired Bane looked at her with a half smile. He emanated a faint derision that brought the dryad right back to high school.

  It was the look that came up when you shared plant facts, suggested a fantasy book, or just generally had the gall to not follow the invisible and unstateable standards everyone else knew. It conveyed the subtle impression that her personality was just antics that made her a burden to be around. That he was certain there was a gaggle of other cool kids watching, and they were all in on the joke but had decided to humor her in the most condescension way they could without being called out on it.

  The look almost got him bitch slapped with—literally—all the force of a falling oak tree.

  Luckily, Wade stepped in and smiled an uncomfortable smile. "Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to celebrate our progress and get some food. But, uh, I guess that's not on the table anymore. If we're just trying to wrap this up."

  With a huge surge of effort, she breathed out the anger while pretending to adjust her hat and ponytail. She had tried really hard to come here calm and not fly off the handle. Shame to waste all that introspection now.

  Jasque was an ass. Wade was also a bit of an ass, but mostly Jasque's victim. That made them an asshole and a half. She could handle an asshole and a half. It would be pitiful if she couldn't. For now, she just needed to keep her back straight, shoulders high, and project the dignity of a hot cartoon villainess who had just killed her husband and gotten away with it.

  Shilloh turned crisply back into the office and called over her shoulder, "Please don't put words in my mouth, Wade. I've never refused catering."

  "Oh, I meant more like, you know, going out to grab something?"

  "The three of us?"

  "I don't know," he shrugged. "It depends on everyone's availability, I guess."

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