Jonathan had been to the tailor every year, sometimes more than once, since he'd been taken in by the guild. The scholarship outfit was meant to be a humiliating reminder of one's place in the world, they figured, but that was no reason it shouldn't fit properly. No matter what position he was in, and with edificeering being such a major part of his studies he'd basically been in every one possible, the tunic and duck pants always hugged him in the most flattering way.

It'd been 9 years since then, and he had no reason to doubt the tailor. He moved into position without prompting, his mind elsewhere.

"You'll have to unclench your muscles, or this coat will hang very strangely," the tailor told him.

"Yes, sir." He did his best to comply.

"The first dance is tough, isn't it?"

"Yes sir."

"But you'll get through it. The first group to take the dark always has it easiest. And the girls from the Quirm College for Young Ladies are just as nervous as you are, don't worry."

Jonathan very much doubted that, but he agreed again. They certainly weren't premiering the Assassin's coming of age uniform, a signal that he was finally and seriously ready to learn to join the ranks. And on that, he would be graded on his dancing skills with the first girls he'd gotten close to in years. Certainly the first since he'd learned why the older students became nervous around them.

At least, he was sure, he'd look fantastic in black.

The conversation had taken off without him. The tailor happily told him all his tips for getting a girl to like you. You asked her questions, and laughed at all her jokes. You kept on your best manners, and be sure to tell her that she was pretty.

"Bet you'll end up with a girlfriend by the end of the dance!"

"Yes, sir." He said. He doubted that, too, but it sounded nice at least.


The Solstice Ball was a great deal of things for the Guild. It was a graduation celebration for the newest Assassins, as well as a bit of good will towards the society of Ankh-Morpork which simultaneously allowed them to show off the mandatory new display of wealth. That year it was a ridiculously expensive, top-of-the-line clockwork piano that kept the dance floor plenty full without the trouble of hiring a musician.

The instrument was the ultimate talking piece, and helped distract from some of the other purposes of the ball. As the older students sold themselves to potential beneficiaries (and, to be frank, potential future clients), there was also the quiet matter of premiering the newest batch of students to take dark.

Quiet, primarily, due to the propensity for 14 year olds to need to be pried off the wall. It only got worse as the Quirmian girls were led inside, and made it clear that they were no more eager to get with the boys. Through the years, the two university's ballroom tutors had resigned to putting a grade on the whole evening to ensure that at least something was done.

Monsieur le Balourd looked over his checklist. "Mr Teatime-"

"Teh-ah-tim-eh."

"Yes, well, you're up."

Jonathan swallowed, approached the girl just assigned to dance with him, and bowed as he'd been taught. She met his eyes, looked pathetically back at her classmates, but curtsied in return. They fitted themselves into place, and began to waltz when the music picked up.

They took an entire trip around the dance floor, their steps perfectly flowing but their gaze averted and mouths clamped shut. As they came back around, Jonathan caught a look at le Balourd who motioned for him to talk to her.

Jonathan looked pained, but finally asked, "So... What's your name?"

She replied, and then she went and ruined it by asking "Yours is Teatime? That's an interesting name."

He was told to be polite. He was supposed to take an interest in her, and laugh at her jokes wasn't he? That probably included swallowing down a correction. "Yeah, that would be a weird one." He laughed, nervously.

She met his eyes, and immediately looked back down.

"Your dress looks pretty," he offered.

"Thanks." She looked him over from the chest down. "Your coat is... really black."

"Thanks."

"So how much of your grade is this?"

"Our midterm. What about you?"

"25%."

He winced. "That's harsh."

She smiled, a little more willingly. "Yeah, this whole thing is pretty awful. But it could be worse I guess."

"How?"

"Could have to go kiss up to all those nobles."

They headed past a duke who prattled on endlessly about his newly-constructed stables, and the graduate Assassins who were stuck listening to him in visible pain. The young pair sniggered, and pointedly ignored that it would be them in a few years.

Jonathan was more than happy to stay in the moment, in fact. He hadn't realized, until about then, that he'd rather missed just talking with someone. That he'd been more than a bit starved for contact. That he really, really enjoyed that someone his age enjoyed being with him.

He grinned as the song ended, and they exchanged a bow and curtsy as thanks for their dance. He'd really made a friend.

And then she went and ruined it when she headed back to her group to say that he might have been nice, but he was still creepy.


The party continued in the main hall, but Jonathan had taken to the roof. He buried his nose in the arms he'd rested on his pulled-up knees, and watched the city that never really shut off.

"I thought girls were supposed to be different."

People are all basically the same.

"Well, that's great." He buried his nose a bit deeper. "Maybe I'm just not meant to have friends."

A-hem.

"Human friends."

What could they possibly have that I don't?

"A pulse, for one."

Vastly overrated.

"No it's not."

The eye saw the pair of them as a black dot on a multi-layer map. Even with Jonathan's gaze fixed on the palace garden, it easy to watch the red dots swirl around in the grand hall to the disembodied music of the player piano. His non-friend was now with another student. It was irritably easy to hear, as well, when she returned to her friends and giggled that this boy was very cute. The friends, who had all agreed with her that she was lucky to get away from Jonathan, seemed just as happy with their new partners.

Maybe he would have fared better with the patch.

Probably not. She likes tall guys.

"Thanks for the encouragement."

Welcome. Stop focusing on her.

"Yeah... I just want to get to bed."

That's not what I mean. You're not alone.

In his mental map, he watched three dots approach him.

Jonathan sighed, harshly, and said aloud, "Can we not, tonight?"

They'll just follow you if you run some more.

"Already? We just came all the way up to see you." The larger boy smirked to his friends. "Since you ran off ready to cry at getting rejected and all."

"Considering you're up here with me, can't imagine you had better luck."

The bully curled his lip. "Want to try that again?"

The world faded to grey as the vital points on his opponent's bodies started to glow out. The student-issue knife itched in the thigh holster.

Take care of it now.

"You heard me." Jonathan shook his head and stood up. "I'm going."

The bully reached out and grabbed his wrist. "You think you can just run?"

You heard him.

In the mental map Jonathan could see the toadies circling around, and his hand hovered over the hilt of his knife. The vital points on their bodies were almost blindingly bright. They pulsed and begged to be stabbed.

Give him what he asked for.

His pulse pounded in his ears, and the hand on his wrist was white hot. Jonathan undid his knife, and in a blink drove it into the bully.

You missed! How the hell do you miss!?

"I didn't," Jonathan thought back.

The bully gagged in pain as blood and urine flowed as the knife was withdrawn.

"Looks like you have to get going, too."

The toadies panicked, and gave Jonathan horrified looks as the helped their leader off to the medical ward. For his part, Jonathan just smiled after them and cleaned his knife.

Just because it worked out doesn't mean you can ignore me.

"Assassins don't kill other guild members, or they're definitely set to be killed themselves," Jonathan explained as he headed back to his room. There was more than a bit of bounce in his step. He slipped inside his room. "I should go visit him tomorrow."

What? Why?

"I'd hate to think I had an enemy," Jonathan answered as if it were obvious.

If he survives, think you're pretty set on that one.

"We'll see."


By the next morning, that Jonathan had sent a fellow student into surgery had been well known. The other two boys had made very sure of it. They also shared plenty of outrage at the administration's belief that the only punishment needed was that surgery. After all, it took a great deal of bumbling to be in the worst condition when you went into a fight 3:1. And it was probably in the trio's best interest that they didn't read more into the fact that the supposed aggressor's only injury was a bruised wrist, wasn't it?

Jonathan certainly could have done without so many witnesses, though. Even though an Assassin was to leave his calling card, it was not good for either his welfare or the guild's security to have people so obviously see his work. People who really should have gone after him, as well.

He assured the administration that he'd take that into consideration for next time. For then, though, he had business.

The bully jumped when Jonathan appeared at his bedside.

"Wh-what do you want?"

Jonathan smiled. "Just wanted to make sure that we're not fighting anymore. I'd hate to think I had an enemy."

His face paled as he stared into the eye that seemed to glow more menacingly. "Y-yeah. We're good."

There was a odd 'I told you so' look as the grin grew. "Wonderful! I'll see you in class, then?"

"Yeah... see you."

And he was alone again. He did his best to stop shaking, and get over the feeling of needing a shower, as he decided he should probably drop out over the break.