Saul sat in the passenger seat of a car, a briefcase perched on his lap. His fingers drummed on the handle, his eyes darting to the woman in the driver's seat. Hair still short, still wearing a suit, yellow eyes still focused with laser-intensity…although the color was indeed different she was still Crosse St. Claire, his agent, his friend and once upon a time, more. Her eyes flickered over to meet his and he looked away, tapping his briefcase, the soft staccato noise almost echoing in the silent car.

"God, this is some meaty tension buildin' here," Zombina chimed in, leaning between their seats and smiling with her sharp teeth. "Not a fan of the silence though. Where we goin'?"

"My home," Crosse spoke, her voice sharp and cold, like a freshly-drawn knife right before it was slipped between the ribs. "Everything is already prepared, so there will be no need for anything other than the project."

"The project, huh," the redheaded zombie muttered, leaning her elbow against the chair. "What'd you call it…Huntering?"

"Pulling a Hunter, Zombina," Saul replied, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Why are you here, actually?"

"Well shit, I can just dive out of the car if that's what you want," she said sarcastically, privately noting how flat and almost lifeless the host's gaze was. "Your agent here ain't someone we know, she's taking you away from your home for something we don't know, and generally we don't know anything right now. So I'm just coming along to see what's up. And hey, observing you guys for a few days is better than working…except for fighting. Haven't had a good scrap in a while."

Saul hummed under his breath and cast his gaze out of the window, unable to stop the anxious drumming his fingers made on his briefcase.

"…So how do you two know each other?" Zombina asked casually.

"Conversation is unnecessary," Crosse's voice cut through the question like a blade. "I don't know who you are, and I won't divulge my background to a stranger."

"Fine, whatever!" The zombie threw her hands up, flopping back against the seat so hard her breasts were threatening to pop out of the camo tank top she wore. "Can you turn on the radio, at least? This silence is killin' me! And I'm already dead!"

The agent's yellow eyes flickered up to look back at the EON officer in the mirror. "Dead, you said? How dead, exactly? Can you still have sexual relations? Can you still carry sexually transmitted diseases?" Zombina's eyebrows went up, nearly disappearing into her rust-red hair.

"Crosse…" Saul spoke to his agent for the first time, giving her a flat look. She returned the gaze, black hair framing her eyes in such a way that they seemed to glow. "She's not going to just 'divulge her backstory-'"

"Yup, died of a brain aneurysm when I was twenty-one, but another zombie bit me before I died, so I came back," Zombina proceeded to divulge her backstory with zero care, shooting the author a smirk as he frowned at her. "I got an artificial heart that pumps some kinda…science liquid that keeps me fresh. Can't feel pain," she winked her green eye and waggled her eyebrows, "but I do feel pleasure. In fact, 'cause of my situation, it takes longer for me to get goin', but when I get going…"

Crosse and Saul traded looks, before looking expectantly at the zombie. "…What?" he asked, and she grinned in response, running her moist red tongue along her sharp white teeth.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on the back of the author's seat, cheeks pink and eyes half-lidded. "Ten minute long orgasms," she whispered, her right hand sneaking up to caress his neck and hold him in place. "And it takes hours for me to get tired." And then she licked his ear.

"Gah!" He jerked out of her grip, bunching up his sleeve and rubbing it in his ear. "Can you not?"

"Anything else?" The agent's voice reminded them that she was, in fact, still present.

Zombina frowned in thought, but notably didn't back off, leaving her hand draped over Saul's chest. "Else, else…uh, right. Can't carry STDs and the like, need to be alive for that. As long as no-one drinks my blood and I don't bite anyone, I'm no different from any other totally smokin' hot chick. Or…wait, if I don't stretch before I sleep, I get rigor mortis and I'll tell ya, being so stiff you can't move is a right bitch." She turned back to the author, her smile toothy and saucy. "But you'll help me with that, right? And I can help you with your stiffness. From touchin' my rockin' bod…I'm talking about sex-"

"I got that, thanks," Saul muttered, moving his hand up to tap his fingers on Zombina's knuckles. "Crosse, why'd you-"

"Zombina, right?" Crosse cut across his question with her own. "You said previously that you were here to observe. Would you prefer to be a participant?"

"'Participant'?" Zombina perked up, noticing that Saul had gone stiff. "What would I be participating in, exactly?"

"Crosse!" The author snapped as the agent opened her mouth. "That's not something you can just ask someone you just met! Zombina and I…we're friends, right?" He asked the zombie, still leaning on his seat.

"No shit, Lover," she snarked, before grinning. "But it's only a matter of time until we're Friends with Benefits…but seriously, participate in what?"

"Do you know who Hunter S. Thompson is?" Crosse asked, appearing unperturbed as she switched lanes.

Zombina gave her an incredulous look before throwing her hands up. "I'm from Japan! Why would I know about some random American guy?"

"Hunter S. Thompson is a famous writer, Zombina," Saul sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He's also famous for drinking and taking drugs. Drinking a lot. And taking a lot of drugs. Also sex."

The EON agent glanced between the two of them, mouth open. "…And? What does that have to do with us?"

The author didn't reply in favor of covering his eyes, as if he was too embarrassed to say it out loud. "Mr. Dewitt does his best writing when he is in a certain state of mind," the agent explained clinically, "Such as partially inebriated, very hungry, thirsty or after sex. Since he is far behind on his work, we are going to induce those states in turn until the book is completed. Would you like to participate?"

"You're asking me…to get drunk, high and have large amounts of sex for days…Right?" She asked cautiously. Both Crosse and Saul nodded. "…You do realize I'm technically law enforcement, yeah?"

"None of the substances are illegal," Crosse pointed out. "And as you said, you are capable of having sex and already have affection for Mr. Dewitt. It is simply an option."

Saul turned his gaze on the zombie, his hand on top of hers. "Zombina, it's alright, you don't-"

"Fuck yeah! I'm down!" Zombina whooped, throwing her other arm around Saul's seat, hugging him from behind. "You hear that, Lover? I get you for days, and not just a weekend like Tio! Horny bitch is gonna be jealous~!" She grinned into the side of his neck, feeling the goosebumps on his skin against her cheek. Then one of her hands began to creep downward. "Why don't we…get ahead on that, eh?"

"No," Crosse said sharply as Saul caught her wrist with his hand. "There is an optimal window for this activity. Do not throw the projections off."

"Alright fine, damn!" Zombina threw her hands up again, slumping against the back of the author's seat. "How long till we get there, then?"

"Two hours."

"Uuugggghhh…" The zombie groaned, sounding very much like one of her media counterparts. "Can we at least have some music?"

Cross obligingly turned the stereo on, the sounds of classical music filling the air. Saul sat back in his seat, closing his eyes. Why do I always end up here? He thought bleakly, his mind turning to the woman in the driver's seat. Damn me, and damn procrastination. I can't keep doing this…it's not fair. Not to me, not to her…and not to Rachnee. Not to my ladies.

"Your agent?" Smith asked, eyeing the new woman over her glasses. "Little young, aren't you?"

Crosse didn't deign to acknowledge Kuroko's question, her eyes fixed on mine. "You knew it was coming to this," she said with all the finality of a hangman with his hand on the lever. "I will explain. You will pack."

"…Yeah," I sighed and nodded, turning and heading up the stairs, ignoring the questions flying from the ladies. There were very few times I'd ever felt like a whipped dog, but Crosse…she could always cut right through me. And it's not like I could blame her. I was late on my next book. Two extensions had come and gone and it still wasn't halfway done. I could've blamed Rachnee, could've blamed Tio for our weekend together…but it was my fault. I allowed myself to be distracted, even when I knew I should've been writing. I let those opportunities slip me by and now…now I've got to pay for it.

"…Honey? Saul?" Rachnee asked softly, her sharp fingers resting gently on my shoulder. "What's going on? Why're you doing what that girl said?"

I didn't want to look her in the eye and admit what I'd done…but I did anyway. "Rachnee…" I began, licking my lips. "I'm late. My book was supposed to be done…months ago. That girl is my agent, my editor and my publisher. I have to go with her or we're all screwed."

My beautiful spider-woman blinked worriedly, eyes darting to the door, before baring her fangs. "Is that bitch blackmailing you, Saul?" She hissed, fists clenched. "Give me a minute and I'll have her trussed up and paralyzed and then we can…negotiate."

"Rachnee…" I said gently, taking her hands and working to relax them. "There's no blackmail. You can't tie her up or punish her, because it's my fault. I'm sorry."

"Your fault?" She asked confusedly, her thumbs stroking the back of my hands. "How?"

"I should've been writing," I shrugged, dropping my head. "I knew my time was almost up, and…I got distracted." It wasn't an accusation, but judging by the way Rachnee flinched, it came across as one.

"We…?" She began, but I cut that train of thought off as fast as I could.

"Not you," I said firmly, grasping her hands tightly. "Never you. It's not you, or Tio, or Yukio or Cerea or Miia or Dina or Suu or Haru…okay, maybe Haru a little, but the end result is the same. How many times have you seen me playing games or watching movies? Wasting the time I'm not spending with you ladies? All that time I should've spent doing my fucking job and instead…" I shook my head before stepping into her arms, burying my face in the warmth of her chest. "I'm sorry. It'll at most be four days at most, three days at least, but I have to go with Crosse."

"Why do you have to go?" My Arachne questioned, arms ensconcing me in her embrace while her fingers carefully combed through my hair.

I sighed, turning my head so I could hear the comforting drum of her heart. "Crosse and I…we have a method that makes me write very fast, but it's…taxing. And private. It's always worked, but I'm not quite myself for a few days afterwards. But it'll get the book written, and that's what needs to be done."

"…Okay," Rachnee said simply. "If you need to do it, then do it, Saul. And when it's done, come back to me. I'll make you better."

"I know you will, Rachnee," I breathed, tilting my head up as she leaned down, her soft lips meeting my own. "I know it annoys you when I say it, but…I really don't deserve you, Rachnee. Any of you."

She sniffed. "You're right, it does annoy me. Shut up and pack, Honey. The sooner you go, the sooner it's done, and the sooner you'll be back. Just…I love you."

"I love you too."

I came down stairs with my briefcase containing a single change of clothes and my laptop. It was all I would need. Crosse stood where I left her, although Zombina was standing behind her for some reason. "Finally," my agent sighed, jerking her head at the door. "Say whatever farewells you need to say so we can leave. You," she turned her gaze on Zombina, "If you're coming, come with me now."

And then she strode out.

The ladies carried expressions of incredulity and anger, as well as a kind of windswept bemusement. Yeah, that's Crosse alright. The she-storm who doesn't give a shit for anything, let alone the opinions or feelings of others. "Is it true what she said?" Mero asked, hands clasped together in front of her mouth, eyes sparkling. "Is our Dear Sir being taken away?" She didn't sound sad. If anything, the mermaid sounded positively enthralled.

"Only for a few days," I answered, running a hand through my hair and giving them a wan smile. "I'm sorry about this, ladies, but I have an obligation to fulfill."

"Master," Cerea began, face red with righteous, though misdirected anger. "Just say the word and I'll-that wench-"

"There's nothing to do, Cerea," I interrupted her gently. "Crosse is…a little hard to deal with, I know, but this is on me. I've got to go with her. I'll be gone three, maybe four days. Just…take it easy, and I'll explain when I get back."

With that said, I hugged her tightly and moved down the line to say farewell. I met some resistance when Tio refused to let go, but the judicious application of tickling let me slip out of her grasp. And then I came to Kuroko.

Her face was stern but her arms were warm, strands of her dark hair tickling my ear as she whispered into it, "When you get back, you owe me an explanation."

"I know," I muttered, before kissing her cheek. I let her go and turned to the rest of the women. "Ladies…see you soon."

Saul opened his eyes as the car pulled to a stop, a familiar building filling the windshield. He sighed internally. I said it last time, I know, but I swear…this is the last time. The home, while large and obviously expensive, was modestly furnished, favoring wood and leather over synthetic materials. It clashed slightly with the cutting-edge electronics mounted on the wall and in the kitchen, but it was warm and homey.

Zombina looked from Crosse in her impeccably straight suit with razor-sharp creases to the plush cushions on the couch just begging for someone to sink into them while wearing flannel pajamas with a cup of hot chocolate. She peered at the agent's cold, stern visage, akin to a mask of metal than a face, then to the warm yellow paint and wooden floor.

It didn't make any damn sense.

Crosse led the way upstairs and it was like stepping into an entirely different building. The walls were painted a cold, sterile grey and the floor was covered in carpet a darker shade. There were only two rooms; a large bedroom with modern furniture and a large desk made of polished black wood, a long, low cabinet with tinted glass; the other, a bathroom nearly the same size with a bath large enough to fit eight people comfortably and a shower fit for four.

The EON agent nodded; this cold, almost oppressively dark room fit Crosse perfectly.

"You know what comes next," the human woman said, her tone nearly gentle as she directed a stern look towards Saul. He nodded and set his briefcase on the bed, turning on his heel and heading for the bathroom while shedding his clothes. Zombina leaned around the doorway to watch as he went, smirking all the while. When she turned back, Crosse had opened the low cabinet and retrieved glasses, bottles of both alcohol and lube, as well as a squat, rectangular machine that she loaded with some kind of oil.

"What's that?" The zombie asked, poking the machine as if it would tell her.

The human woman slapped her hand away and set about unpacking Saul's briefcase, setting up his laptop and pushing the case under her bed. "A mixture of various legal drugs that induce a state similar to cannabis intake," she explained briskly, her hands working at the buttons on her jacket.

"Huh, never much into that kinda scene when I was alive," Zombina noted, watching the other woman taking her clothes off and folding them neatly. "Don't mind givin' it a try now, though, not sure how much it'll really do…is there a reason you're getting naked?" Her mismatched eyes raked up and down the agent's body, a toothy smirk on her lips. "Not that I mind."

There was no doubt that Crosse St. Claire was a beautiful woman. She was about the same height as Zombina, and her frame was slightly wider to accommodate her decently-sized breasts and taut rear. She wasn't muscled nor was she fat; it was clear that she exercised to maintain her figure but nothing beyond that. There was a softness to her body and her cheeks were plump, which clashed somewhat with her focused, fierce yellow eyes and the power in her stance that made her seem taller than she actually was.

"Ease of access," Crosse replied, peeling her pants away to reveal the extent of her black lace underwear, which she then began to remove as well. "And comfort. A few days without clothes is a rare treat. If you really want to wear clothes, make sure they're something that is simple to remove"

"Nah, I was just askin'," Zombina shrugged, shucking off her top and kicking her shoes into a corner of the room. She noticed the agent eyeing her in interest and grinned, shoving her skin-tight jeans and underwear down and kicking them away, holding her arms out as if to say, 'Ta-da!' "Like what you see, Fleshy?"

Crosse ignored her question, grabbing the zombie by the arm and holding it out, her eyes picking apart the stitches and changes in skin tone as they traveled up the arm and over the body. "I wonder how your body can control limbs not your own after they're attached…" She glanced up at the still-grinning EON officer. "Though I suspect you wouldn't know."

"Ain't got no fuckin' clue," Zombina confirmed cheerfully. "Science juice. Does a lot of stuff, don't know how, don't particularly care." She jumped slightly as the other woman's fingers sunk into her breasts and experimentally flexed. "And neither do you, apparently," she muttered, cheeks flushing.

"I care greatly, but as you don't understand how it works, I will simply investigate later," the agent replied, leaning in and observing the reaction as she flicked a nipple. "Hm. Reactions are on the slower side, but still present…body temperature is on the low side…"

Saul stepped into the room, naked except for the towel he was drying his hair with. He did exactly nothing to hide the effect two beautiful naked women fondling had on himself, though it was slightly dampened by the clinical way one went about it. "…Crosse," he finally spoke up, setting the towel aside, "Can you probe Zombina later? I thought we were on a bit of a time crunch."

"I suppose so," Crosse grumbled, stepping back and waving Saul towards the bed. "Sit. Zombina, the goal is to tire him out but not entirely exhaust him. We will switch as needed and feed him the necessities when scheduled."

Zombina arched an eyebrow. "…Okay?" She shrugged, then grinned at the author sitting on the edge of the bed. "Now, I fully intend for you to pay me lip service, Lover, Tio says your pretty enthusiastic-"

Saul balked. "Tio talks about that?" He paused, recalling that he had, in fact, told Rachnee all the details of his time with the sweet oni as well so he really didn't have any room for offense.

"Yeah, she won't fuckin' shut up about it either," the zombie scowled, crossing her arms. "'Oh, Sweetie is so gentle!' 'Oh, Sweetie is so generous!' The only thing she complains about is the fact that she doesn't live with you yet. Anyways, as I was saying, your face is goin' in my crotch soon enough, but there's something I've wanted to do since I saw you naked." With that said, she knelt and pushed his knees aside, exposing the entirety of his stiff arousal to her gaze. "Ah, there it is…"

Saul gulped at the toothy grin curving her lips, and the sharp white teeth that gleamed in the low light. "Please don't eat me," he sighed, reaching out to run his fingers through her rust-red hair.

"Oh, I won't consume your flesh, Lover," Zombina smirked, her long, calloused fingers wrapping around his length. She tilted it to the side and leaned in, burying her nose in the skin and dragging it up his hardness, tracing the largest vein before her tongue darted out to flick the tip. "But that doesn't mean I won't gobble. You. Up." In contrast to her words, her actions were gentle; her fingers softly stroked his stiffness, dragging her lips and nose up and down while laying feather-light kisses on the burning skin. Her lips parted slightly as she took the tip in her mouth, a quick smirk crossing her face before she bobbed her head and took more of him.

Saul tried to restrain himself from pulling Zombina's hair as his fingers involuntarily tightened in her short tresses, the sensations of her lips and tongue as they lavished attention on his arousal sending fire through his nerves. Partially, this was because of her lower temperature, the engulfing warmth of her move less searing and more…comfortable, in a word. And the other part was the sheer care such a normally brash figure showed to such a tender part of him, taking great pains to ensure that her sharp teeth barely brushed the sensitive flesh. Yep, he thought distantly as she took more than half of his length down her throat and suckled gently, when I get between her legs, I'll give her everything she wants.

"Hey Lover," Saul opened his eyes, not having noticed that he closed them, and looked down to meet her mismatched gaze. She smiled sultrily, not a hard look to pull off while holding his junk in one hand. "Remember what I said a while back? The undead…give the best head." Then she descended on his arousal again and took him deep…then deeper…then her nose nudged the short hair and her lips engulfed the base of him, her fingers teasingly probing at his sac. Then her throat began to undulate, tongue fluttering over his stiffness and he couldn't hold back a gasp, his hands coming up to grasp her head.

Then the undulating ceased, and he couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed. Then the vibrating started. Through closed eyes and clenched teeth, he could hear her humming something, some familiar song with a name that escaped his mind, occupied as it was. "Z-Zombina," he warned and pleaded, before a familiar hand grasped the back of his neck and a glass of liquid was directed into his mouth.

Zombina frowned into Saul's skin, not liking his attention being diverted. She stopped humming, then clenched her eyes shut in concentration. Then she hummed and wriggled her tongue at the same time, changing the pitch of her song and sucking as she did so. A smile curled her lips as she felt the author jerk, a cold liquid dripping into her hair. Then his hips began to buck and she grasped his thighs to pull herself as close as physically possible, sucking as hard someone who hadn't really breathed in about five minutes could. She felt it when he finally released, shots of thick heat spurting down her throat and coming to pool in her stomach.

She opened her eyes and found him looking down at her, half-lidded and glazed, twitching in her mouth as she leaned away. "So," she took a deep breath, aware her cheeks were burning and her loins felt afire the same, "Am I right or am I right?" She flicked his tip with her tongue and giggled as he flinched.

"You are…very right," he murmured, stroking her red hair and she allowed herself, internally, to enjoy it. "Want me to repay the-?"

"Switch," Crosse's cold, curt voice cut across like a knife made of sexual frustration, and Zombina withdrew with a frown. The agent pushed the author back on the bed and made him lay down, turning her sharp yellow gaze on the zombie. "In five minutes, press the green button on the machine and feed him the glass on the cabinet. Partake of anything else as you wish."

Still a little frustrated, the EON officer sat down on a nearby chair, watching as Crosse climbed on Saul and straddled him, her hands tracing up and down his chest. Her eyes, mismatched as they were, still noticed as the agent's face, expression usually flat, became softer and dare she think even warm as she ground her center against his length before tilting her hips, lining him up and sinking down with a groan. Then Zombina perched a foot on the edge of the chair and got to rubbing. Might as well stoke the fire before it got quenched.

Even through the haze of lust veiling her mind, the former living woman still watched the two humans go at it carefully. Saul, despite being by all accounts a touchy-feely-starey lover, had his eyes closed, his hands resting on Crosse's soft thighs as she rocked against him and moaned throatily. The agent bent forward, planting her hands on either side of his head before leaning down to kiss him, breasts pillowing against his chest as their lips meshed and parted with growing sloppiness. Then the machine beeped and Crosse's head snapped up, her eyes fixed on Zombina. "Five minutes," she said flatly, as if the man buried in her center wasn't even there.

The zombie grunted under her breath and reached over to the machine, tapping a button with a blinking light. Instantly, a fragrant scent filled the air, a subtle dullness creeping across her senses. She grabbed a squat glass full of some kind of alcohol and turned to the bed, pausing as she saw that Crosse now had her eyes closed and her head thrown back, breasts rippling with every bounce. Saul was gazing up at her with something unidentifiable in his eyes; longing, perhaps, or even sorrow. It cleared from his ice-blue orbs as Zombina knelt on the bed next to him, her hand coming to bring his head up so he could drink.

He gave her a smile, twitchy though it was from the pleasure coursing through him and she smiled back, bereft of her teeth that time. Saul drank deeply and his chest heaved as he inhaled harshly. Zombina looked from the man on his back to the woman riding him, something niggling at her senses. There was something between the two, something disquieting.

Zombina withdrew the glass, a frown pulling at her lips as she saw his eyes, typically expressive and lively, beginning to dull and glaze like glass. She laid a hand on his forehead and he looked to her. She descended on him, her lips pressing against his. It wasn't a saucy kiss, there was no tongue. She got the feeling, from the way he leaned into her, that he desperately needed the comfort of a simple, gentle kiss.

What the fuck was going on?

…

Hours passed and a schedule was followed. After Crosse rode him to completion, she pulled Saul up and directed him to his laptop, where he obediently sat and immediately began to type. After a time, the agent would feed him another glass of alcohol or water, then drop to her knees and suck away until he released into her mouth, Zombina and the human switching off every hour or so until night had fallen. Then Crosse charged her with watching the author as he wrote and disappeared down the stairs for twenty minutes, leaving an almost unthinking, unaware creature with the zombie.

Zombina frowned as she watched him type, the words flowing fast and smooth with barely a need for an edit, one of her hands occupied with stroking his short but soft hair. She wouldn't lie and say that she loved Saul by any means; she liked him, assuredly, but they hadn't spent a great amount of time together. What they had spent had been fun and slightly embarrassing for both parties. He took her saucy snark and gave it right back, but despite her condition he treated her with a distinct lack of distaste and just the right amount of softness that she enjoyed and could tease him about. What she'd seen of his personality, the subtle sparkle in his eyes as he gave her sarcasm and the flush in his cheeks as she teased him with her words and body, the things she enjoyed…

Those were gone. At that point, he was more a zombie than she was.

Crosse eventually returned with a platter of various foods; mixed vegetables, fruit, slices of cold meat and bread, and sour candy of all things. Zombina was directed to eat what she wanted, and the agent fed Saul a bit at a time until the food was gone.

Then, nearly an hour later, the typing began to slow and Saul's head dipped. Even though he jerked awake a second later, they could tell he was beginning to flag. Crosse, with a strange gentleness, pulled him from the chair and into the bathroom, ordering the EON officer to hold him up as she lathered him with soap then washed him down and dried him. Then she laid him down on the bed and brushed his eyes closed as he fell limp within seconds. Silently, the two women showered together, cleaning the evidence of the day's activities away before joining the softly snoring man under the covers.

Zombina didn't need too much sleep, nice as it was. So, thirty minutes after they'd ensconced the sleeping author between their bodies, she felt it when Crosse shifted and her sharp gaze drifted over her body. She pretended to sleep, not a hard thing to do when one works in the government, and waited patiently for the attention to fade. When it did, she cracked an eye.

Crosse had leaned on her side, gazing at Saul's face with such an intense tenderness that she could only be burning the image into her mind with a white-hot wire. Her hand brushed over his cheek, her yellow eyes nearly shining with a pure kind of need and dare Zombina think it, love. The zombie closed her eye and went to sleep for real after noticing that the agent had silently begun to cry as she touched his face, feeling like an intruder. Normally, she wouldn't have cared. But it wasn't a normal situation by any stretch of the word.

…

Saul awoke with a blink, finding himself looking up at a dark and unfamiliar ceiling. A mantle of fatigue weighed down on him, but once awake he couldn't sleep again, even with the warmth of two soft bodies pressing against him from both sides. He looked to his right, spying a dark head of hair resting on his bicep. Crosse had her back pressed against his side, his arm looped down in front of her, snuggled between her breasts as she curled into an almost fetal position. He could've reached between her legs with little effort.

And to his right he found rust red hair scratching at his jaw, felt Zombina's breath against the side of his neck. With her arm thrown across his chest and her leg intertwined with his and the tight grasp both limbs had on him, it was like she'd tried to vacuum-seal herself against him. His eyes tracked down her bare side and her long legs, lingering on the lines of stitches. Some connected to skin that was a tone lighter or darker, and others seemed to be there for no reason at all. A zombie gave me a blowjob. Several, actually, Saul thought distantly, before shaking it away. No, no, don't think about it. Existential and moral crisis later.

"I smell burnin'," Zombina murmured into his chest, shifting herself so that she could look up at him and press herself even closer. "Mornin' Lover. What are you thinking about?"

"You," he replied, stroking a hand down her back. It was true, though not as romantic as it seemed. "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty fuckin' good, actually," she admitted with a shrug, a grin parting her lips. "Forgot to stretch and shit before fallin' asleep, but it seems like snuggling up with a nice warm body fixes that neatly. Guess who's getting a new snuggle buddy? That's right, me." She kissed his jaw and nuzzled his cheek with her nose. Then she shifted herself up to whisper in his ear. "And maybe if you're lucky, we might even fuck beforehand. Or after, I'm not picky."

He turned to look at her, his solemn blue meeting her green and yellow. Then he pressed his lips to hers, gently. Her eyebrows went up and despite herself, she melted against his mouth, her tongue slipping through to probe at his before they parted. "Thank you," he whispered, his arm curling around her shoulders, placing another feather light kiss on her. "For being here…Why are you here, though?"

Zombina jerked her chin at the naked back of the agent. "Ms. Roboto over there picked me when Smith demanded someone from EON should come with to make sure you were safe. Not sure why, but I honestly don't care all that much. Could use a break from work, and what better way to spend that break than naked?"

"Mm," he hummed noncomittally, "Kinda surprised you were so on board with the whole…sex part of the deal."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Why? I ain't made any bones about hoppin' on your boner, y'know. I'm not about that sublety shit, I'll leave it to Doppel." Zombina saw the question in his eyes before he even spoke it. "And no, I'm not looking for anything steady, except for a good lay. Tio adores you but she don't mind sharing as long as nobody interrupts her time and I might as well avail myself when I'm not working, you know? Maybe I'll find someone else, maybe I won't. Hell, maybe I'll even-snrk-fall in love with you-pfft-!" She buried her face in his shoulder, shaking in silent mirth.

Saul smiled at her laughter, but internally…It's more dangerous than you think, Zombina, he thought, stroking her shaking shoulders. A lot of things I once thought impossible are now terrifyingly true. Don't tempt fate.

"Sorry," she muttered, not sounding very sorry at all. "But hey, a drop-dead sexy babe willing to be a cuddle and fuck buddy ain't a bad deal, is it?" Her hand, still resting on his chest, began to creep downwards. "Speaking of…"

A shrill alarm sounded and all three occupants of the bed jumped. Crosse half-rolled half-flopped, throwing an arm out to attack the clock. Her hand tapped at the button for a few screeching seconds before the alarm was silenced. Sighing, she lolled back against Saul's side, turning her head to blink sleepily at him. Her lips curved briefly in what could've been a warm smile before she blinked at it was gone. Her yellows flickered over to Zombina and the hand near his crotch. "I'll get started on breakfast. You can have him for twenty minutes until I return and we will start the next cycle."

Her voice was cold, concise and nearly robotic. She rolled out of bed and strode towards the door without care, as if her mind had already moved on to the next task. They both watched her go, eyes on her swaying hips. Zombina tore her gaze away and turned it to Saul and like she expected, his eyes bore a myriad of emotions. Sadness, longing, and old anger mixed with resignation. "Seriously, what the fuck happened between the two of you?" She asked flatly, grabbing Saul by the chin and directing his face towards hers. "You said she was a friend, but it looks to me like you guys just about hate each other. And yourselves. And I haven't had nearly enough sex to deal with that angsty shit, so out with it."

He frowned at her, obviously unwilling to speak. She frowned back, visage bearing no of her typical crass sass as her hand slid from commanding his attention to comfortingly cupping his cheek. Saul licked his lips and sighed, arms coming up to wrap around her. "We…before all of…" He grunted in annoyance, nearly snarling at himself. "You know about my background?"

"We all read the file," Zombina nodded, her thumb stroking along his cheek bone.

"After that-well, after, I had therapy. Obviously. Her mother," he jerked his head at the door and the distant sounds of dishes, "Was my therapist. Still might be, I haven't actually checked. We met at her office, our appointments were at the same time."

The zombie scrunched her nose in thought. It was adorable. "Her mother was her therapist too?"

He shook his head, his hand tracing smooth patterns along the curve of her back. "Her therapist was in the same office. We had some time to kill, so we started talking. At first I was kinda off-put by how she talks…you may've noticed it's on the odd side. But I was interested in her, and, well…we met again, decided it might be nicer to talk outside of the office and went for coffee." Saul looked away, discomfort written plainly on his face. "There were a few problems, she helped me with them, and…we became a couple. And it was good. Very good. We had our differences, sure, but we were very happy…at least, I thought we were."

Zombina nudged him after a second, trying to get him to focus. "What happened?" Though she would deny the shit out of it, she squeaked as he shifted and pulled her on top of him, his arms tight around her as he buried his face against the side of her neck. Ooh…oh, I like this… She thought, wriggling slightly to completely encapsulate him with her body. So warm…

He swallowed roughly, feeling tears prick at the corner of his eyes. It had been years since that day, in another country, in a time when he was almost a different person…but it still hurt. "We…we wanted different things," he finally said into Zombina's throat, drawing comfort from the softness of her body, the tightness of her embrace and the steady drum of her heart. "She just wanted the physical…and I wanted more. So we broke up. It was another thing I moved here to get away from."

Zombina stilled in thought, her eyes flickering. She nuzzled her cheek against his and shifted to whisper in his ear. "There's more that you're not telling me," she murmured, kissing him just below the lobe. "If you moved across the world…why does she have a house here? And why did you come here with her?"

"Her family's rich," he said plainly, waving a hand at the large house and cutting-edge electronics. "I don't doubt they have a home or two in every country and state. The civilized ones, anyway. Why did I come with her? Well…she's not wrong. I do my best writing like…like that. I must've written twenty pages yesterday, and that was only half a day." Saul sighed, his breath brushing her ear. "Crosse…I've never been able to deny her. She just cuts right through me."

"Mm," it was Zombina's turn to hum as she planted her hands on either side of his head and levered herself up to look into his eyes. "That seems like an excuse to me. Didn't take you for a pussy."

He blinked at her, a thunderous frown forming on his brow. His fingers dug into her shoulders as he pulled himself up and pressed his nose against hers, filling her vision with rings ice-blue and pits of bottomless black. "Have you ever loved someone?" He whispered roughly, a snarl on his breath, "Loved someone so intensely that it's frightening? That when you think of them dying, you'd happily bleed yourself out just to give them another minute?"

Zombina pushed her forehead against his, forcing his head back until it hit the pillow. "No." She said frankly. "And honestly, it sounds kind of creepy."

Saul's visage softened and he pecked her lips. "You're not wrong," he muttered, slumping into the bed, his arms going slack. "And yet it seems to be the only relationship that I find…well, at least I thought it was, until I met Rachnee. It started out that way, but…"

The zombie felt something in her chest along with the minute frown tugging at her lips. "You really love her, don't you?" She asked, ducking her head to press it against his chest and listen to the steady beat. She didn't want him to see her frown; she wasn't sure why she was doing it in the first place.

"Yeah." He admitted with no hesitation. "Yeah I do. Maybe the third time was the charm…or maybe it's her insistence on trying and succeeding at getting me to date other women at the same time, I don't know. Spreading the love so it isn't quite so intense and as you said, kinda creepy."

Zombina's brows knitted together. "So…would you be here if she wanted you all to herself?"

"Oh fuck no," Saul chuckled with an edge of hysteria, "I'd rather shoot myself than cheat. I'd look for damn sure, fantasize a lot, but ultimately, no."

She hummed deep in her chest, though it sounded more like a growl even to her. "Alright, enough talking, it's crotch time." She pushed herself up and made to pull her crotch up to his face, but was stopped by his incredulous look.

"…Crotch time?" He asked faintly.

"Yeah, there are better uses for your mouth and I'll show you-" Zombina was interrupted by the arrival of Crosse, who was once again bearing a tray. This time it held three plates with omelettes and cups of chopped fresh fruit.

"Surprising," the agent said, her eyes flickering over their forms and the lack of sweat and the scents of physical activity. "I presumed you would've been experimenting sexually."

"We were talking," Saul replied, sitting up and lifting a scowling Zombina from his lap. "Thank you for breakfast."

"A healthy breakfast begins a good day," Crosse quoted, handing out plates and forks. "You've made decent progress but there is still much to be done. I've yet to optimize the cycle, so we will be experimenting a bit as long as your progress keeps pace."

The author grunted, already eating. Zombina, still frowning, had to admit that the food was decent; slightly salty and with too many vegetables, but tasty and filling. "He's gonna eat me next," she said, fixing both of the humans with a glare. "I like suckin' dick as much as the next lady, but I want some reciprocation before all this crap starts."

"The schedule allows it," the agent nodded, polishing off her breakfast with neat, precise bites that left her plate spotless. "Showers first though."

Saul said nothing but gave Zombina's thigh a slight squeeze. After they were done, Crosse loaded the dishes on the tray and strode downstairs, giving them a sharp look. "Shower," she commanded before sweeping away.

Silently, they stepped into the shower and under the sprays of hot water. As he scrubbed his chest, the author glanced over his shoulder at the zombie's bare back crisscrossed with lines of stitches. "Zombina," he started, and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Did I say something to piss you off?"

She shrugged, appearing unaffected. "Yeah, nothing serious, just that you wouldn't fuck me if you didn't have permission." Her glance became a glare before she spun around, whipping a finger up to point in his face. "And just because I'm not looking for anything doesn't mean you didn't insult me as a woman! I still am one, you know!"

"Sorry Zombina, but I was being honest," Saul shrugged helplessly, "That's not to say to that, if I'd met someone before Rachnee we could've ended up together, you know. I can see myself with Tio, Suu, Cerea, Yukio, Miia, even Dina. And Smith, but there would've been a lot of steps to get there."

Zombina crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow, tapping a foot impatiently. At his clueless look, she pointed at herself. "What about me, jackass?!"

He opened his mouth, paused, then closed it. "You realize that you're, well…a zombie, right?" She glared at him. "It's kind of a big deal, you know…"

She threw her hands up angrily, then pointed at the door and the bedroom beyond. "It wasn't a big deal yesterday! Or this morning!"

"Yeah it was," Saul said with a shrug, "It still is to me. I'm just compartmentalizing, basically taking all my fears about the moral, ethical and legal ramifications about what I've done and will do to and with you, rolled them up in a ball, put that ball in a box, put that box in a bigger box and shipped it cross country to myself. I fully expect that at some point in the future, I am going to freak the fuck out, but for now…" He reached out and laid his hand over her sternum, stepping in close. "When I feel your heartbeat, Zombina, and I see the blush on your cheeks, feel the softness of your skin and your lips on mine…it's very easy to ignore the problems I have. But I still have them."

Zombina slumped back against the shower wall, her wet hair clinging to her face as she scowled. "That's how it's always gonna be, isn't it?" She snarled to herself, crossing her arms. "'Oh we'd be good together but you're dead,' and 'oh you're sexy but the stitches ruin it for me,' and then, 'ooh, you're zombie, I've always wanted to fuck a corpse.'"

Saul could tell that he'd struck a nerve and hurt her feelings, something he never wanted. Words would only make it worse, so he didn't use them. He stepped into her space, pressing her body against the wall and crushed her lips with his.

Zombina did not gasp in surprise. Her eyes did not go wide. And she most definitely did not throw her arms around him and attack his mouth with the vigor of a starving woman at a buffet. His tongue probed her lips and she opened them with no hesitation, taking him in her mouth and trying her damndest to wrestle him into submission. When they broke apart, short on breath, she asked, "I thought you said…?"

"I am always going to have a problem with it," he replied firmly, kissing her again before she could scowl. "But this trip is already on the iffy side, so…after these days, we can kiss and even grope, but otherwise we're just cuddle buddies, alright?" She frowned softly, and he traced the line of stitches going across her cheek. "Until then, though…I'll do whatever you want. Within reason and the schedule."

Zombina heaved a sigh and mimed checking a watch. "Well then we better hurry and finish before Ms. Roboto busts a circuit or something. Tio gushed about how enthusiastic you were to get between her thighs and I wanna see how much of that was bullshit." Hurriedly, she grabbed the soap and began to scrub herself down, hearing Saul doing the same over the water.

When they finished, they stepped out of the shower and onto a section of the floor that was vented with a wince. Saul grimaced as he pressed a button labeled 'Dry' and flinched as a blast of air flooded from the vent below. Seconds later, they were mostly dry, though their hair was still damp. "…Ow," he grunted, walking oddly for a few seconds. "It always hits me right in the taint. T'ain't a good feeling, I'll tell you what."

"Can't feel pain," the zombie winked, skipping merrily over to the bed and waving for him to lay down. "I'll kiss it and make it better later, but c'mon, I got the perfect distraction for ya."

"Alright, Zombina, I'm-" There was a slight hitch to his step before he laid himself out, waving her up. "Bring that fine ass up here, you sexy thing."

She arched an eyebrow, an amused smile flitting across her face even as she did just that. "Not exactly the master of dirty talk, are you?" She snarked, her core hovering above his face. "And call me Bina, alright? I think we're close enough for that."

As he opened his mouth to say something, she let herself drop gently on to him. He glared up at her for a brief second, then his hands closed around her thighs. His tongue darted out for an experimental taste and he found her to be tangy, even slightly sour. He decided not to think on why and instead focused on kissing her lips, tongue parting through to taste her at the source. Her thighs flexed against his cheeks, her moan vibrating through her entire body as her fingers dug into his scalp. Her walls grasped at him like a velvety trap, more of her taste flowing from within, wetting his cheeks as he pressed himself deeper into her core. He might not've been much of a linguist, but he'd let his skill and enthusiasm speak for themselves.

Zombina panted, rocking her hips against his mouth, one hand on his head and the other roughly pawing at a breast. "Ain't that a-ah!-a sight," she wondered aloud, running her fingers through his hair and gasping as he found a particularly sensitive spot. "Oh! That's right-Ahn!-Lover…eat me up…" He hummed agreeably and she shivered in delight, eyes fluttering closed. Awash in the tides of pleasure, a distant thought filtered through her preserved brain and she twisted around, gaze falling on his arousal standing tall and proud like a flagpole without a standard to fly.

Saul jumped slightly as her fingers closed around his length but didn't let up his tongue-lashing, humming again as he stroked the spot he'd found before. She jerked and nearly fell off of him, his hands grasping her thighs being her saving grace. He looked up at her flustered face and the embarrassed scowl she wore and gave her a wink. Her grip on his head tightened. His mouth found the bundle at the apex of her lips and closed around it as he sucked roughly. Her hips bucked and she gasped sharply, eyes unfocusing.

"Alright," she muttered, grinding deeper against his mouth, her arms trembling as she did her best to withhold the explosion on the edge of her senses. "Tio…is a lucky…bitch…" She needed a distraction and, lo and behold, there was one in reach. Saul jerked underneath her and she quickly spun around to distract herself but instead beheld Crosse having just taken his entirety, sinking down on him with a low, primal groan. Feeling more than slightly annoyed and a bit cheated, Zombina noticed the rapture on the agent's face and grinned like a shark.

Crosse barely moved, simply enjoying the sense of completion, until a mouth closed around her nipple. Eyes flying open, she blinked down at the zombie practically gnawing on her breasts, a hand kneading and groping at the one unoccupied by her mouth. She glared down at the interloper, silently demanding that she cut that shit out.

Zombina did not, in fact, cut anything out. If anything, she seemed fueled by it, her ministrations growing more frantic, her other hand coming up to push Crosse's plump breasts together so that she could feast on both more easily.

Saul felt his concentration slipping with every lick and kiss of Bina's core, her hips rocking against his face as Crosse rode him with what had started as a calm, content pace that became more erratic and thus, harder to ignore. He could feel the edge coming up, but he was determined not to go over it alone. Eyes peering up, they fixed on another entrance, nearly pulsating in time her moans and shudders of pleasure. Releasing his grip on her athletic thighs, he drove two fingers deep inside of her, twisting to coat them evenly. Only when he was sure did he withdraw them, and set one circling her other entrance. He noticed with some slight glee that she flinched almost minutely, before she gave him an encouraging squeeze of her thighs. With tongue curled inside of her, his lower lip working at her bud, he unleashed the final move of his combination attack.

Crosse, even through the haze of pleasure descending on her through her own actions and that of the other woman, noticed when Zombina came. Her entire body was red and her eyes shot open, spine stiffening before she arched and released a gurgling cry that sounded almost painful before she slumped across Saul's body, head landing in such a way that she had a clear view of Crosse connecting her hips with Saul's again and again.

The agent had been slightly jealous of the idea that Zombina could experience an orgasm lasting ten minutes, but as she watched the zombie twitch and shudder, her muscles spasming wildly under her stitched skin for minutes on end, Crosse wondered if that was actually a good thing. That much pleasure for so long, it had to be insane. Then her mind stopped wondering as the other woman began to lap at their connection, her tongue trailing from his base to Crosse's bud with the alacrity one wouldn't expect from someone in the middle of orgasming.

There was a sharp slap of skin on skin as Crosse finally lost control and Saul flooded her insides with warmth. Her mind blanked and her eyes shut, cast adrift on beautiful tides. When her eyes opened again, she found herself lying beside the author, his head still between Zombina's legs though he appeared to be simply laying there, panting.

She nodded to herself and pushed the zombie off, taking a distinct pleasure in the way the other woman flopped off of him like her nerves had stopped working. Then she rose from the bed and approached the machine loaded with fresh oil. "It's time."

…

The cycle began again. Saul was fed alcohol and water in small measures, the fragrant scent of the concoction sat thick in the air and when he seemed too energetic, Crosse or Zombina would duck beneath the desk and remove that energy via suction. It went on for hours until noon had come. Crosse had fed him lunch and fed herself of him before pushing the zombie outside onto the second floor patio and closed the door.

"He is in a flow state," she said calmly, once Zombina had raised the question. "Any interruption now would set the schedule back. It is better at this time to simply let him be and rest." With that said, the agent flipped open a small black box she'd taken from the cabinet, withdrew what looked like a black cigarette and lit it. The scent that drifted away didn't smell entirely of tobacco, though. It reminded Zombina of pumpkin for some reason.

And that was how two women who couldn't have been more different than the other found themselves sitting with their legs dangling from the patio, glasses of fruit juice sitting by them as they basked in the sun and smoked. The silence, while not exactly comfortable, wasn't awkward. "So…'Crosse', huh?" Zombina broke the silence, eyeing the other woman with a smirk. "Crosse St. Claire. Did your parents hate you or something?"

"No, they love me greatly," Crosse replied flatly, blowing a near-translucent cloud of smoke. "However, they do enjoy exotic names and while I did indeed suffer the attentions of bullies when I was younger, I never paid them any mind. I learned from my brother, who is named 'Brecisius,' how to simply let the words of the unintelligent and undeserving of my attention pass me by. I later taught such methods to my younger sister, Dogratha."

The EON officer stared at her for a few long, unblinking moments, a bit of ash tumbling from her cigarette. "…You got off lucky with 'Crosse,'" she muttered, shaking her head. "Still gotta wonder what kind of parents would name their kids like that. They had to know it would start some shit."

"Considering my mother is named Aquiline and my father is Augustus? Indeed." The agent commented simply, taking a drink and eyeing the zombie. "Considering that you are named Zombina, one would imagine you are aware of this as well."

Zombina gave her a wide, toothy smile just on the edge of being friendly. "I wasn't born Zombina, Ms. Roboto, I picked it after I came back. New me, new name." Crosse nodded in understanding and they went back to silence. Until it was broken a minute later. "What happened between you and Saul, eh? I heard part of the story, the bare bones, anyway. I bet you've got all the meaty details though, huh? C'mon, I sucked your titties, we ain't strangers anymore."

The agent fixed her with a flat look, her pupils like voids. "The past is past. Better to let dead things stay dead."

"Bitch you serious?" The zombie asked incredulously, waving at herself. "I'm undead! Who better to tell, huh? A jiang-shi? A ghost?"

Crosse grunted in a very unladylike fashion, sucking in a mouthful of smoke before blowing it at Zombina. "…You're not going to let this go, are you." It wasn't a question. It was resigned.

"Nope. Like a bitch with a bone, that's me," Zombina grinned, leaning back on her hands. "I got more patience than you, fleshy. So spit it out, it's killin' me."

The agent did not take the easy joke. She stared into her glass of juice like she wished it was alcohol and downed it. "I assume he told you how we met?"

"You had therapists in the same office," the zombie recalled, nodding.

"He wasn't especially intriguing the first time I met him," Crosse said bluntly, "On the better side of plain-looking, so nervous he wouldn't look directly at anyone. Assumed he was a wallflower and prepared to ignore him. Pulled out a book to wait and ten minutes later he asked me what I was reading. It was the rough of Hannibal Hawthorne's third book, Warmonger. I looked up to tell him it was none of his business when…"

The agent drifted off, her eyes rising to the blue sky scattered with fluffy clouds. "'When' what?" Zombina asked sharply.

Crosse licked her lips, fingers playing with the stub of her cigarette before she flicked it away and shrugged. "He has pretty eyes," she mumbled. "Took me by surprise, the first time I looked into his eyes. They were cold and inquisitive at first, but when I showed him the document, they sparkled…like spring sunlight on the waves. I informed him that I was the agent, the editor and the publisher, he turned that look on me, and…I liked it. I liked being looked at like I was…magical. And I had to know more, so I contacted my mother for his information and asked him for coffee."

"Girl meets guy, guy intrigues girl, girl stalks guy," Zombina summarized dryly.

"There was no stalking," the agent shot her a sour look, "I did not hide my interest, I approached honestly and openly. As I had never been in a relationship before, I was wary. As he had just come out of a disastrous relationship, he was wary. Our beginnings were slow, tentative. We only kissed three weeks and ten dates into our relationship, but it was nice…and then…"

The EON officer scowled and poked the other woman in the thigh. "Will you quit it with the dramatic pauses?" She threw the butt of her cigarette off the patio and sighed harshly. "Just fuckin' tell me, damn."

Crosse grunted. "Excuse me if trying to recall the events of several years past is difficult, dead woman. Figured you would have more patience." The look faded as she drifted back into thought. "Our relationship advanced until one day, I didn't hear from him. We typically walked to our appointments together but I never spotted him. I talked to my mother and she revealed that he hadn't turned up, so I went to his apartment and…" She licked her lips, brushing a few errant strands out of her eyes. "He backslid. Hard. I could smell it from the hall, and when I came into his room, I saw the bottles. He was typing at his computer like he was possessed, eyes glazed and smelling of sweat, smoke and alcohol. I managed to rouse him after an hour, and he nearly collapsed. He'd been in that state for a day, and I talked him into telling me why."

She paused again, sucking in a deep breath. "It was the one year anniversary of his attack. When he had to kill in self-defense. And it weighed on his mind, wracking him with guilt-unearned, in my opinion-and he'd sought a way out. I couldn't convince him to stop, so…I joined him. I wanted to keep an eye on him, make sure he was safe, moderate his intake…the better thing to do, I think would've been to take him to my mother or a doctor, but he would've hated me. I couldn't stand the thought."

"Your first time was with him…like that?" Zombina asked, nodding at the door and the room beyond.

"No," Crosse shook her head sharply. "In-between. It was more desperate than I'd hoped, and not as pristine as I dreamed, but…he was gentle. Caring, and attentive. Made sure I was satisfied. It was…better, than how I'd imagined my first time being, but given the circumstances, it could've been much worse." She sighed softly, her eyes warm. "He wrote his first novel those three days we spent together. Then, afterwards, he slept for a day straight and apologized when he woke up. I demanded that, in apology, he go to my mother for his appointments, and that he move in with me. And that the next time he felt as such, he would tell me."

"Nice backstory," Zombina nodded, finishing off her glass. "Nice to have context, y'know. What happened after that?"

"He showed me his novel, asked me what I thought. I took him on then and there, had my brother sign it for us. We were partners…It was the happiest time of my life." The agent spoke quietly, her words nearly swallowed in the gentle breeze as it brushed their hair. "His book sold, his issues were clearing, he was making progress on the second and the sex had only gotten better the more frequently we did it. He saw through me, brought out the parts I thought I never had, and was willing to deal with my problems in turn. Seven months we lived together…"

"And then it went to shit somehow." The zombie huffed, picking her nose. "I'd say cheating, but that's 'cause I can't think of anything else."

"No." Crosse glared, her eyes nearly glowing with the emotions roiling behind them. "I was never unfaithful, and neither was he. It was the opposite."

Zombina blinked her, frowning in thought. She looked up at the cloud-dotted sky, squinting. Then she shook her head. "Alright, I can't think of why anyone being too faithful would end a relationship. Don't make sense."

"Seven months we'd lived together, known each other for nine," the agent began again, scowling at the empty glass she fidgeted with. "And he proposed. It was a random day, nothing special about it. We were sitting on the porch, watching the sunset, and he pulled the box out of his pocket, opened it up and handed it to me. Looking at that ring, then at his eyes…I realized something. I'd become his crutch. His emotional support structure that relied on one person. If I'd asked, he would've abandoned his family for me, he barely talked to them as it was. And I realized that, without even trying, I'd done what that bitch did." She swallowed hard, her knuckles turning white, the glass creaking protest under her grip. She sighed and set it aside, meshing her shaking fingers together to rest them on her thighs. "And when I realized that…I couldn't continue. I couldn't make myself his entire world. So…I told him we were better off as just editor, publisher, and writer."

Zombina nodded in understanding. "You broke his heart, so he moved out here to get away from it. Makes sense."

"No," Crosse frowned, giving her a questioning look. "After I…after we separated, I arrived home one day to find him gone. Most of his things were still there, but he was gone. His phone was on the bed, so I called my family and his to see if they'd heard from him. But they hadn't. Using my resources, I tracked him to an airport in Seattle and saw that he'd made a phone call at a booth, bought a ticket to Japan and boarded. Then, when I checked the cameras at the airport in Japan, I saw him get into a taxi…and he vanished off the face of the earth. I couldn't find him, my family couldn't find him…he was gone."

The EON officer shrugged. "Well, you did, kinda, y'know, break his heart. I guess he didn't want to deal with anyone at that point."

"No, you don't understand," the agent leaned towards her, her face serious. "My family has the resources to find anyone, anywhere. And we couldn't find one man in a foreign country with only the clothes on his back and a wallet full of American currency." She shook her head, resting her head against the railing of the patio. "For a long time…I thought he was dead. He'd always admired Japan and the culture and, for a while, I thought he might've come here to, well…go to Aokigahara."

Zombina's eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "You thought he traveled across the world to kill himself?"

Crosse shrugged. "Maybe. I was nineteen, nearly twenty, and had just ended a relationship with a man I still care for greatly. I was panicking. Not thinking straight. His family, naturally, blamed me, as did I. And then, of course, eight months later I get a call out of the blue. It was Saul, and he had written two more books in his absence." She sucked her teeth. "Naturally, I demanded to know where he'd been. He would only reply with 'Ninja' like that was some sort of answer."

Zombina cackled, throwing her head back. "Oh yeah, it pisses Smith off something fierce whenever she tries to sneak up on him and he always seems to know when she's there. He can slip out of an Arachne's webs…" Her laughter faded as she thought about it. "And when he got taken hostage, he was more annoyed than anything…not to mention the throwing star, and the fact that he sprinted through a store with a rope silently and choked out an orc in thirty seconds."

Crosse and the zombie traded incredulous looks. "No…" The agent said lowly, the denial clear. "We would've known if one of the clans had taken him in…"

Zombina arched an eyebrow at her. "…Would you?" She asked seriously.

Crosse fell silent, staring hard at nothing. Zombina was lost in thought, and the silence built.

Then, it was broken by the sound of delicate footsteps.

The women looked down at the stairs as another woman ascended to the patio, her white hair shimmering in the sun. She wore what looked like a customized maid's uniform that was cut a bit tighter with a wide square of lace over her chest that left just a hint of cleavage exposed. The sleeves were puffy and ended in white gloves, her skirt flaring out to reveal legs that seemed to go on forever, clad in white hose and sensible black heels. Her skin was pale but healthy, her chin was sharp with a small beauty mark and her cheeks slim, thin lips and a small nose with wide, almost crystal blue eyes completed a delicate, gentle face.

The woman smiled gently and bowed. "Good afternoon, Mistress, stranger," she greeted, her voice soft and somehow robotic while also being warm. "Can I assume that the Master is here as well? Am I late?"

"You are," Crosse replied shortly, nodding her head towards the door. "He's inside writing. I believe it's almost time for a break, so go prepare."

"Yes, Mistress," the woman nodded, turning on her heel and opening the door, disappearing inside. Zombina watched her go, ducking her head slightly to peek under her skirt, eyes widening at what she saw beneath.

"…Who the fuck is that?" She asked, turning on the agent. "And why is she here?"

The agent looked up in thought. "My…maid. I hadn't planned on you coming along, but you were the best option when that Smith woman demanded an observer."

Zombina grunted, tapping her fingers on her empty glass. Then she cocked her head. "Okay, so…what the fuck is she?"

(End Part 1)

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A/N: Well hello there. Kept you waiting, huh? Not that I meant to, you see, there was just other stories, work, reading, writing, medical issues and all that fun shit that comes with having to be a responsible adult.

yay.

So, if you're a reader of my other stories, you may know about my schedule. If you're not, here it is: My main focus is Not A Hero, Not For Hire, but I'm also working on my other stories at the same time, so I have a rotation. Hire, something else, Hire, something else. So far it's been Dare To Wander, my Fallout story, Hire, then this one and then Hire afterwards. As you can tell, this is part one. It would've been one long, mega-chapter, except that I've realized that's a horrible idea to keep up my momentum. So I've split it.

Part one is now, obviously. Then Hire, then part two.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the return of the story, though these parts are slightly darker and more serious, and I hope you look forward to the following chapters. Because yes, there are more coming and no, they won't all be brooding and whatnot.

Austin: If only I was forced to have sex with hot women just to temporarily fix my procrastination with my writing… Also, Zombina is now my favorite Mon-girl. She takes no shit and sticks to her guns. Love that in a woman!

Thanks as always to NorthSouthGorem and AJR3333, and the other people who sometimes show up. Why don't you give them a look, you know? Maybe you'll like what you see, you know? Maybe you'll discover a life-long joy for a certain series?!

Y'KNOW?!

Anyhow, thanks for showing up.

~Soleneus

P.S.: I am tempted to do the next part of The Bar of Lost Sauls, but I've delayed this long enough, I think. Next time, baby.

Stay Safe, stay healthy and I'll try to help you stay sane. Love you all bunches.

~still Soleneus