…or, Amateur Hour
If Marlot was annoyed by the same topic being rehashed over and over again, she might’ve been going to the wrong school. There was only one subject of conversation on campus Thursday, and it wasn’t one she liked hearing about.
It seemed our resident infernal had gone off the deep end and torn up Harlowe trying to kill her rival in the student senate election. Said rival was either a fox girl or an ogre, depending on which version you listened to.
I’d been under the impression that the student government stuff was already settled. It was possible I was wrong. I hadn’t gone to a floor meeting since the first one. When I saw Jennifer, the girls’ resident advisor in the hall and asked her about it, she seemed surprised that Harlowe had student senators. She said she didn’t remember seeing any during the year she spent on the senate.
“Why wouldn’t they?” I asked her.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Aren’t most of them aliens? They don’t get to vote in actual elections. Maybe it’s something similar?”
“They don’t vote for the Republican government because they’re not citizens, but they are students,” I said.
“I guess,” she said.
Coach Callahan was in a rare mood that afternoon. She was downright gleeful, even. I didn’t have to wonder if it had anything to do with Mack the demon girl, since I got there right as Steff Johnson was telling her the reason for her absence.
It was hard to tell whether Callahan was happier that Mack had been put into the healing center by the fight—which probably meant the ogre version was true—or that she’d gone off on a rampage. Either one would have been in character for her.
“That’s fucking fantastic, Johnson,” she said. “Not only will I excuse her absence, I’ll excuse yours.”
“I’m not absent,” Steff said.
“You’re always absent. Hey, Princess, come over here!” she said, spotting me. “I’ve got something for you.”
Happy or not, I approached with caution. An ecstatic Callahan was probably more dangerous, if anything. But she pulled a pouch off her belt and handed it to me. It jingled.
“Six pieces of silver,” she said. “Your performance on Saturday made me some money. That’s your half.”
“What, you bet against me at the skirmish match?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” she said. She gave me a slap on the back, then skipped—skipped—away to go talk to Dobbs about something.
“What the hell was that about?” I said to Steff, who was still standing there.
He shrugged.
“Don’t know,” he said. “But it may or may not be related to the fact that she offered me ten silver if I can get her a crystalline echo of all the elven butt-sexing she assumes we do.”
“Why would she assume that?”
“Because she thinks you’re an elfblood and she knows you’re gay,” he said.
“I am an elfblood, I’m not gay,” I said. “And I’m not sure I want to know why she wants that crystal.”
“Yeah,” Steff said. “You’re probably right. So, you want to go make five silver after class?”
“Not even a little bit,” I said.
“Oh, come on. Five silver for a little effort.”
“I just got six silver for showing up.”
“How about this? If you don’t agree that my dick plus five silver is greater than six silver, I’ll give you another one for free,” he said. “And another piece of silver, if you’re still not satisfied.”
“Yeah, no,” I said.
“You’re not going to get a better offer.”
“I just don’t have any openings to fill at the moment,” I said. “Seriously, I like getting fucked in the ass as much as the next guy, but every time I go off with an elf I end up taking it, even when the elf’s a girl. It’s wearing a little thin.”
“A healing potion will fix that.”
“Not funny,” I said.
“Come on,” Steff whined. “You have no idea how hard up I am right now.”
“Don’t you have lovers coming out the ass?”
“No, usually just the regular way,” Steff said. “But I’m kind of on probation right now, so if I want to get off I have to do it with someone outside my regular circle. And even if you’re one sixty-fourth pureblood elven princess, you’ve got no idea how hard that can be for someone with my blood.”
“I think I do, actually,” I said.
“What about sympathy sex?”
“I’d have to have sympathy for you,” I said. “We could have apathy sex, but I don’t really care for that.”
“My best friend is in the healing center!”
“Your best friend, the dangerous and ravening monster?”
“We’re talking about someone who was defeated by the combined power of menstruation and a shoe,” Steff said. “There may have been a rolling pin involved, but I’m not clear on all the details.”
“Yeah, I bet you’re not,” I said.
Callahan got the class rolling after that, mercifully. Even more mercifully, I heard Steff saying he was going back to the healing center to have dinner with his little friend. As long Alli and her golden eyes or the evil bitch-queen of Treehome and her veiled harem didn’t show up at the farmhouse, I could look forward to a night free of elf-related craziness.
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