Hello! I am... Let me get back to you on that. I need something more exciting than Fred. What kind of name is that, Fred? It's so... dull, and rhymes with bread, the blandest food of all- oh, and DEAD, which I'd rather be if I was called Fred.

Of course, it'd held to have something to call me by... Call me Frisk, for I am incredibly frisky! I wish Fred would hear me more, especially for Lilah. Oh, that sweet Lilah. Her sensual curves, her chest, already budding so, and that heart-shaped face with that perky nose and that oh, so sweet smile... Who cares if FRED is ten years older than her? She is so PERFECT right now. Why doesn't he simply sweep her in his arms on his way to work at the apothecary? Why doesn't he make her his for all eternity?

Oh. Right. The age thing.

Damn him for being born so late. Oh, how we admire her in her bright sundresses, frolicking in the alchemy gardens. How we enjoy smelling her perfume, so crisp, a reprieve from the musk in the tiny lab inside. Old Man Withershen, you may not be able to smell yourself, but we can! Oh, yes! Oh yes we can, and you do not smell like sunshine. Good thing darkmallow is so readily available, though I hate how the stalk tickles our nose.

Even then, I wish Fred would dream big... bigger.

Who cares if he inherits the apothecary shop when Old Man Withershen plops over? Who cares if he would be the savior of this piss-poor town? I mean, he was born here, but no one gives a flying fiddlers fuck about Norela, not when Coradoona is but another day away. We don't even have a blacksmith; just some fool running around bellowing for one. Though I do wonder how he changes the color of his hair. That pink is simply delish, and that blue too. So crisp, so-

There's Lilah again. Keep calm, Fred. Don't be stupid... Freezing in place and watching her run over is stupid, you dumbass! Okay. Blink. Don't look at her bounding chest. People still think that's freaky, even if I approve. Oh, she cocked her head! How her dark curls bound so! I wish you'd reach out and touch them.

"Hello, mister Bala," she said... of course she was talking to him, not me. Not poor old Frisk. "How are you today?"

"G... good," that bumbling fool said, scratching his blond hair, of which he kept short! I kept trying to tell him to grow it out, that it'd attract h... okay. You win this round. "You? How about your father?"

"Daddy is doing great! He came back from Coradoona today and gave me THE largest sweetie."

I'd love to give you MY sweet- DON'T SHAKE YOUR HEAD.

"Oh yeah?" He said.

"Yeah! It was so big I couldn't get my mouth around it. It was so good! It hurt my mouth a bit when I bit it, though. It shattered and scared me."

"Is that right? Well, take this." He handed her a bit of Lapiz Bazara, completely ignoring my thoughts on what else could be too big for her mouth. "This will take care of any problems."

"Really?"

"Yup. Just let it set in a cup for three minutes before eating and drinking it. All pain will be gone."

"Oh, thank you! I'll go get daddy to pay y-"

"It's on the house. What kinda person would I be to stand by and let a girl be in pain."

She gave him a hug, and skipped off, humming away. I hate to see her go, but loved watching her. That wonderful lass, still so perky, so innocent, so kind. Oh, how the others of her age bickered and gossiped such evil things, discussed such tawdry affairs, but not her. No, she avoided that circle, helping her father, helping herself become a better trader and person. Maybe that's why I... we love her so much.

Why won't you see it, you imbecile? Why can't you see she wants you to join her on her journeys, to go to exotic locations, gather curious items, and, all the while, finding the most beautiful spots on Mertha to fuck each others brains out.

"Fred!"

"Y-yes, Withershen?" The cur coughed, spinning on his heels to face that old crow. How he tied his hair; even looking at it made me want to puke. Why would anyone braid that little bit? Besides, with that shade of yellow, I'd sooner chop off my HEAD before letting it grow anymore.

He coughed, and held out a bit of parchment.

"Go and pluck these, will you? The blacksmith is coming tomorrow with goods for the farmers, and we can't afford to be short after. Windra is coming, and already people are coming down with-"

He coughed again, hacking until he fell into Fred, escorting him back inside the dusky, musky pit of the apothecary. He eased him into the chair behind the counter, both carved out of really red pelont, inscribed with runes of all sorts, gleaming gently. Light spilled through the window above the door, stirring the dust wherever it touched, gathering on pelts and scrolls on the walls, the one on the left wall hiding the way to the lab.

"Easy, master." Fred said, patting his shoulder. "You sit here. I'll go boil you some-"

"I'll get it myself in a moment, lad. You just worry about those ingredients."

… Come on... Be a good widdle boy and nod to your daddy figure- there we go! On command! Now, go into the hot Fierela sun again and get those roots and bulbs and fuckitalls for your butt buddy... Wonder if Lilah is still out here. Who am I kidding? She was long gone, but she was still so fresh in our mind, wasn't she? From the way her skirt hugged her rear, she was wearing something under. I guess she couldn't escape all the influence of those meddling lasses- oh, here comes some now. How they watched you, Fred. How they leered and looked at your every muscle, at how they stretched and curved and flexed.

Shameless.

Those girls have no personality, simply seeing you as a piece of manmeat to do with what they wish until they throw you away. THIS is why we need to get out of here. Withershen used to be like you, after all. Used to be hot, manly, then one too many accidents in that cursed lab- but we have first-hand experience, don't we? Just look at your left hand, after all. Look at how... blue it is... Yes, it may be faint, fuck nut, but it is still noticeable! Worst part is that old crone knew and didn't tell us it was a bad idea to mix powdered Forinel Costaq with cut Belestrada.

"Oi!" One of the girls exclaimed, the others tittering as Fred stood upright and knocked his face into her melons. The girl scoffed, rolled her eyes, and jutted a finger into his chest. "So, like, why are you still single?"

Maybe because we don't need a harlot in a bright red dress ruining our plans to leave this place?

"I... I don't know."

… Why do you never listen to me?

The girl huffed, biting her lip, twirling a bit of lock her red hair before her pale blue eyes... the red fit her better- fit all of them, but no. The others simply had black.

"Don't you think that's weird? You're how old now?"

"T... Twenty-six, ma'am."

"Twenty-six? Twenty-six! Gods, that's pathetic."

"Such a loser," another said, biting her nail, painted to match her whore hair.

"I'm even engaged," a third said, flicking her hair back, its dark ends burnt a bit. That's what you get for dealing with that t-

"Tell you what, when I turn of age, I might make you mine," the first sai- LIKE HELL YOU WILL. OUR HEART BELONGS TO-

"That's awfully... kind of you, m'lady," he said... again, WHY?

She tittered, poking his forehead, winking as he took the root from his hands.

"Until then... by the way, you are a legitimate scribe, right? You will inherit this place, no?"

Tell her no! She's-

"Yes?"

"Good. Later..."

"F-Fred. I'm Fred."

She leaned in, breathed on our neck- UGH! You can smell the cock!

"Fred."

Her and her gaggle left after that, cackling so like the heripas they were... You have NO backbone, you spineless piece of shit. You don't deserve sweet Lilah after that, you jellied cur! Go back to your fucking master, bend over, and give him what he wants now, you worthless sack of dicks! Yeah! You better feel bad for this! You better trudge home! You don't deserve to have your head up. You don't DESERVE to enjoy your porillo today! That's right! Oversalt it. Make that face and reach for a b- NO BEER. Drink plain water instead... with Salt. Tonight, you no get dream of Lilah. Instead, you dream of how much a LOSER you are and then maybe, MAYBE I'll let you work on that list in the drawer in your nightstand.

Ugh, how this bed creaked, how its straw plumed when you plopped on it. You need to lose some weight, Freddy boy... or don't. Get fat. Get ugly. Ruin any chance with SWEET LILAH.