Yes I'm throwing shade at America's Got Talent.

Also had to write this when sick (twice) lol [and no, it's not the CoronaVirus! Just two lil' bugs in a week!] I guess that's my fault for making Pheenie suffer. I'll suffer with him!


Mays's parade of pushing him along like a locomotive, emphasis on loco, did not terminate once they hit the hallways of the complex. Her hands pressed against his back, pedaling him forward in a heavy march beyond the stairs. If he didn't know he was being tugged by a stampeding medium, he'd figure there was a horse galloping along inside the building. When their feet touched the ground floor, only then did Maya cease her express train.

Exiting from the possible one person entourage, Pearl was about ready to proclaim what she's been dead set on years to achieve. He deduced that admitting to Pearl about him and Maya's coupling would end her quest, but it only mounted. The holes in his argument broke apart and the rest dissolved like table salt in hot water. The objective spread not only to Maya and himself, but to his poor employee who ran out. Not as fast as Maya fleed, but a competitive runner up or bachelor for that matter in Pearl's eyes.

Peering back, it didn't seem the smaller medium was in hot pursuit behind them. This was either really good or really bad. Or both. The mediums never truly had a definitive way around them. The benefit on his behalf would mostly lean to their favour. It was a great getaway from Pearl and to get out of the office once in a while. The repercussions of eluding the situation could drive Pearl's purpose exponentially. This would possibly fuel her drive deeper, knowing they had their alone time in the city again, just like older times, in the beginning.

Those thoughts and obsession were unintentionally ignited by the Master medium who bullet dived him to the lower banks towards the doors outside. Those retellings of the times he defended Maya and saved her life several times. Knowing Pearl at the time, a sheltered child with an inclusive culture, heard about these wild adventures of him saving the only fun figure in that entire village, things were bound to escalate in her childish mind. Shining armor and princesses were without a doubt the main topic supplied with Maya's crazed story telling.

"If only it were this easy getting out of a mess in comparison to you getting into messes." Maya fixed her robe, tidying her sash from the mad dash.

"Hold up, it's normally the other way around with you, Maya…" Phoenix, eyeballed her intently, very aware that Maya had no merit.

"Mine are unintentional," she shooed him. "You kind of ask for them."

'I'm not even going to drag this on…' He innerly swallowed. It would be a losing battle.

Several mailboxes lined the walls on either side for each occupant, whether it be tenant or offices in the rather spacious enough for comfort building. He didn't want to wager checking on his inbox now just in case Pearl planned on popping unannounced and challenging him. Once caught in that event, chances of evasion again are slim to none.

"You know you left Pearls to watch the office alone."

"YOU left Pearly. The office is technically yours." She apprised charm.

"Didn't you say something about 'A Fey starting the office and a Fey keeping it going?'"

"I'm not taking it back. A Fey is technically keeping it going right now." She side-glanced smugly. "Besides, Nick she was taking charge of a whole village by the age I can count in two hands by herself. Sunk your own case there."

"We're not in court, Maya," he flinched. 'Why bring up the good points now…?'

"Gotta keep those skills sharp."

Maneuvering over to the glass doors, knob worn down from years of exiting and entering, Phoenix and Maya entered the warm outdoors.

As soon as the rays of yellow casted onto him, an uncomfortable heat seeped deeply into his flesh, deepening to the muscle. Everything slowed and blurred for a moment. He could've sworn his heart paused a moment before restarting its job, reluctantly faster paced. A restless fatigue weeded a infinitesimal sweat to the exposed areas his suit could not cover. The solar flaring of the sun must be relentless today. The news anchorman did not say anything about humidity or how torturous that ball of fire millions of miles away would shoot lasers of agony.

It took him a moment to catch his breath, regaining his lost balance. He withered slightly in place, saturated from the cursed light from all sides like the inside of a toaster. He stumbled backward, hitting the hard wall slab of concrete. He groaned, when a pinch of shade managed to save him from the harsh heated shine.

"You okay there?" Maya ripped him off the wall like a wet paper towel by his sweaty shirt wrist.

"I got lightheaded all of a sudden." He panted dryly, wobbling in Maya's clutch.

"It's called low blood sugar, Nick. That little run was barely a workout. Gravity did most of the work for you," she patronized, subtly pitied. "You barely touched your breakfast and I did the best I could! That included some of yesterday's dinner."

"I'm sorry, Maya. It just… wouldn't stay down…" He excused for lack of a better word, gripping her wrists. A steady thrumming enlightened below his fingertips. He knew he wasn't clenching her forearms tightly. She made no attempt to recoil from any pressure. The unhurried strum lulled the percolating strain to a bubbling curdle under his lungs in tune with the opposing pump in his hands.

"The tank is empty," she let him go, wondering. "You think you're coming down with a stomach virus?"

"Maybe?" He transfixed on Maya, fingertips echoing remnants of the beat like a song.

"Because that is the only logical explanation," she concluded immediately. "My cooking is spot on!"

"You're Uncharted... Who can beat Maya Fey?"

"You got that right!" She strided away, him following in tow.

'Yes, Maya because recipes for those nuns in the mountains have expanded you to become an Iron Chef… when the most essential ingredients are the salt from the mountains and the nectar from the surrounding flowers… '

The crispiness encasing onto his back made a tiny curse emerge under his breath. His shoulders bent backward, tensing like the initial sting of a burn before it alleviated. At least it wasn't blazing as before, adapting the uncomfortable heat to a minor annoyance. Hopefully, this wouldn't turn into an odd tan.

"When you whizz to different villages and countries, you get to know how to blend your environment to your dishes. Especially the Fey clan!" She bent over to peer up his downard darkened eyes.

"We survive off the herbal leaves into our tea and spices. We have to make sure each one is either safe or toxic. We need to know the difference between a grape and a nightshade berry. The honey from the bees nests is a gruesome job when you have hundreds and hundreds of needles ready to poke you for that wonderful golden prize in the wax. You got to put on extra long robes just in case." She shriveled, picturing those buzzing insects clouding her ears with that horrible clamour. "I have to make sure the other acolytes don't confuse it with a hornet's nest. They can try to summon the spirits well, but when it comes to telling the difference between a bumble and a yellow jacket, those girls can be a bit dense."

'Oh, Pooh…'

"Then there's planting the sativa in the marshy waters. You need lots of hands to catch those little pellets to make a single bowl of rice." Maya crudely mumbled.

The mountainous terrain did have its paludine of wetlands banking the outer rims of the entire village. Along the main roads, opposite of the train track commute to Mystic Valley, the low waters were decorated with the sprouting medium tall rice plants. Several occupying nuns and villagers would tie their robes just below their knees as celibate as possible and pluck the grains from the pods. As tedious as it was, it is one of the main food sources for the indigenous spirit mediums for he didn't know how many generations.

"I'm guessing to fulfill the Master's wishes, you need the whole village's help?" He pulled.

"What you talkin' about, Phoenix?" Maya pouted, eyeing the lawyer up and down like he stepped in something.

"Nothing. Nothing." He smirked deviously.

"If resources were ever scarce!" The statement ended less than a question. "Mystic Ami, guide me!"

The scorch managed to shoot straight up his spine and coat into the gelatin of his marrow. The muscles in his eyes strained into a twitch. The sensation reverberated worse than the shear of the sensitive tympanic membrane stabbed by nails on a chalkboard. Combining with that accursed unwanted sunbathing had the back of tonsils and hyoid radiate with a numbing twinge. The frustration curled his neck downward, exerting hostile squalls.

"Nick…" She tapped him several times on the arm. When he made no mind to heed, she lifted his head with her soft palms. His eyes were unilluminated and lost. Tiny pins pasted tense and static, swimming in a stormy ocean in the pitchness of dusk. "What's with the face?"

"I…" His voice came out grating, fogged on his own tone. The look Maya gave must've finally brought the dilated pupil back and the trouble in them away. He cleared his throat, "I'm just really tired… sorry, Maya."

"You didn't have to worry about the village starving." She let go. "There is a nice burger joint just a hop and skip away."

"You made it sound like a life and death situation…" He flatly said.

"We should hit the usual spot. Put something in you before you kill over," she added a pitstop.

'You mean before you kill over…'

"And if we actually do run out of supplies, there's stores actually being built close by the village. You forget, Nick - Mystic Valley has been officially set on the map." She clapped ecstatically.

"That's amazing actually." He nodded impressed.

"Maybe I can make it into a kingdom. Sounds nice, doesn't it?" Her hands clasped together in praise.

'Maya on a throne? That is one heck of an image.' He luxuriated with the thought about this lovable but jubilant woman sitting highly regaled on a amethyst and emerald encrusted seat in her true Master robes. It began as a joke, but the idea became alluring and tasty the more it domiciled. If it were to hypothetically happen anyway.

"And how exactly do you plan on getting your palace, your Majesty?" The blue attorney jested.

"I can if I really want to and try a little harder!" She crossed her arms when his face morphed entertained. "Don't give me that look! You forget about my other powers, Nick."

"Summoning the dead?"

"No… I guess it's time to give you a little history and some social studies on the Kurain." She basked, walking backwards. "I am Master of the Kurain Channeling technique. I have not only a respectable traditional title, but a political one, too. I mean… I can't make laws like those boring white collars do, but I am a respectfully noted figure and the village is part of, in a way, the city."

That mess in Kurain all those years ago did bring publicity. Whether good or bad, publicity is still publicity. Maya's familial affairs could put most soap operas out of business if it became a show. The beginnings of his former boss, the Chief matriarch of the office at the time, Mia, underwent her own investigation to uncover who exposed her mother's accuser of scapegoating the unlawful sentencing of an innocent man for murder. Later uncovered by Phoenix himself, the horror continued with Maya's own aunt willing to take her own niece's life to depose and offer the title of Master to her youngest daughter. Putting away that devious contaminant in the once sacred halls of the Kurain did not withdraw her hand from the battlefield. Even in death and in death's row, Morgan and her venomous daughter, Dahlia, continued to thwart Maya's rightful place with spite and vengeance to Maya, Mia, and him.

The incident at Hazakura broke the camel's back, tumbling over the media with an overload of conspiracy, betrayal and fueled that curse of the Fey's and the credibility of the law. The retreat was about as exciting as a snow buried tundra during the winter in the outbacks of Canada. It was for mediums to get away during the summer or winter if they're in tune with their practice. Then, the revelations of the true master, murder, attempted murder and a twist no one expected. The end of that chapter would be best to remain locked away and buried, but never forgotten. Heroes were remembered and legends never died.

Somehow, some way, despite the place meant for honouring dead with mostly death occurring, the Kurain were brought up the muddy slopes of negativity. Between all that blood and deceit, individuals had decided to give the village a second chance. The exhibit of Lordly Tailor and led by Adrian Andrews, she helped embrace the culture and tradition of Kurain as the forefront of advertisement. With the help of a few benefactors and certain historically crazed archaeologists and a treasure hunter believing the urn, great magatamas, scrolls and the statue of the golden statue of the founder could bring out monetary and historical value to the city. At the very least, it was not a let down to the historical viewer.

Years later, the tourists made it a destination to hit on the outer mountains of the city. The architecturally crafted curves to ward off evil spirits and tiled roofing had many underneath and around. The sudden populace of people was probably a shock on both ends of the rope. Mostly ignorant of the outside world quiet vowed meditative nuns with curious and unenlightened nonrobed newcomers from the bustling loud city was like introducing a new race. And the races were getting along nicely, rickety, but nicely.

"We don't have to hide anymore!" She grinned ecstatic, "as Ms. Spectre said, 'you are an icon and an icon needs a pedestal.'"

"How did you ever meet someone as classy as Ms. Spectre?" He grinned, watching that split second of annoyance wash over her before conceding.

"You know what? You're lucky I am in a good mood to not let a sourpuss like you ruin my days off. I am swimming in classy! Hand me a towel!" She toweled the soaking class down in her own robe. "You've seen the true Master robes I have to put on. All those blankets and wrappings. It's almost over ten pounds just to heave on top."

'Weighted clothing. She's training to fight or meditate?'

"And for your information," she poked with extra emphasis. "I didn't go to her, she came to me!"

She strut away faster, vainly distancing herself from Wright's wider pace. "Who knows, maybe with her help, I could get that kingdom! And then I'll rub it in your spiky face."

"Plan on making another mini city next to this one?"

"That sounds like a good idea!"

'Stop adding gas to the flames, Wright…'

"But if you're really really nice, then I may have a seat for you next to me." She winked mischievously.

The rumbling in his abdomen halted for a second. The offer sounded too sweet to be true. Having a setup with royalty is tempting especially with a temptress like Maya. On the contrary, it could end with a limb caught in a bear trap forced to be her jester. He'd wager the later higher than his best hand in poker.

"Do I still get my day job?"

"Of course you do! It's a two way street!" She kneaded an invisible ball in her hand.

"So if joining you would be my second job, what is your second?" He tapped his chin, more intent on rallying her.

"How dare you?" She playfully scoffed. "I do have a secondary upcoming career!"

"Really?" He bluffed, curious about her actual answer.

"Yes, really! I am thinking about theatre!"

The eeriest sense of dejavu tumbled like hail in a cabin window. He couldn't exactly place his finger on it, but he had an inkling of why she would pick such a career. On a hunch, he predicted it may be off from her long lost mother. Under the guise of Elise Deauxnim, she was a children's author. Perhaps art may live up to its major with Maya revamping and enlarging not only her title and village, but a lost dream? It could be also her digging through some of his old drawings that he stashed and forgotten in the bowels of one of the office closets. It fluttered a nostalgia that never integrated from his pursuit in university. He revolved pleasantly watching one occupant of through history of the law office pursue some form of art, even though Trucy is doing her form of performing arts. He guessed that it would make two.

"I can see it happening. You are melodramatic and have a very imaginative mind with no end to it."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she snatched the air in front of him and placed it in her obi.

"All jokes aside, you'd do a great job." He genuinely praised.

Maya almost lost her footing with the tiny blush on her face. She curdled how that spikey attorney can add a tiny skip to her step. The goof had a one goofy one on his face, but she wasn't going to show the evidence on hers.

"Yeah, the downside is getting started. Not many theatrics had ever invested in their own work and survived in this nit picky war for fame unless they got lucky."

"Who said that?"

"Ms. Spectre…" She toed around. 'And Mr. Sheffield…'

"And she knows a good amount about investments."

"Ugh, yeah!" That energy to push the statement divvy on the obvious. "Her success rate is enviable from what those popinjays in certain parties, including the ones the other night whisper."

"I didn't hear anything." He quirked a brow, wondering how Maya managed to detect gossip from a ball crowded of pompous and knockoffs. Unless she used sonar or that medium intuition she raves swears on having, he heard nothing of the sort at the table or the dance.

"You need to pay more attention with those Machiavellians who are all cutsie in your face, but are just as nasty as the burnt underside of toast behind your back," she led on. "That and because I was at the private rehearsal dinner days beforehand."

"A private party?"

"I wonder what happened… the food was way better that day. Like so much better!" Maya's emphasis tuned a fine and sophisticated note. "Ms. Spectre was probably fuming when she realized how bad it came out on the actual party day tasted like urban cafeteria food."

'Maya would find privileges like taste testing five star food a mandatory…'

"Like I was saying before, I kind of want to pick up the acting and singing." She reintroduced with newfound attentiveness. "I had the acolytes do their own song and dance after the long week of meditating for several hours straight. They like it!"

"What about Pearls?"

If her sandals could screech, she would've made an impressionable sidewalk scorch mark. He lagged to a stop, watching as Maya was between exploding and imploding.

"Don't even get me started on Pearly! She put Kid's Masterpiece Theatre to shame and did her own twist on the more mature acolytes."

"She does dance and song?"

"And acting, support, the dressing, the colours, the drawings, and sometimes the ambience and candles." The list somehow kept going on and on. "She is almost the whole cast and crew if I don't stop her."

Wright laughed, "even the boom operator?"

'Did someone say boom?!'

"I'm serious! She can go all the way. One time she lined up all the younger acolytes for the role of a small girl to a tiny play. Checklist and everything! She took my 'That Was Easy Button' souvenir as a buzzer one time and smacked it hard like it owed her money if they didn't make the cut."

"That's a lot of power for a small medium." He called bemused. "I thought the buzzer was for an automatic entry."

"Not the golden buzzer you're looking for, Nick." She shook her head, "no sob story is going to win her heart over when it comes to Pearly looking for the right lead role."

He could only imagine Pearl, structurally analytical, pen in hand as she critically critique her auditioner, judging inside and out. She'd probably be more cynical and judgemental than his ceramic and illustrative professors back in university. What they made up for in salary was just as compensating in attitude for perfection in the arts. If the piece of work was not up to standards, don't bother setting foot in the classroom. He could envision Pearl now.

'What's your aspiration? Why do you come here today? You know we only elect people with real talent, right?'

He imagined the medium lean back with a stank look, bothered by the fact that talent is a rare commodity nowadays, worsened by bottleneck in the middle of the valley.

'What makes you think you have it?'

'The girls in the village say I can melt hearts away.'

'Really? Alright, show me.'

The melody would soften around the parchment walls and wooden flooring harmoniously until a minor offkey note would shatter it all in the end.

'That was absolutely dreadful! I have heard the indigenous birds of these mountains squawk better sounds five in the morning compared to that squealing you just subjected my ears to. You're not what the Kurain is looking for. I'm sorry. Not really, goodbye.'

'It's been my lifelong dream to be a singer. I want to be among the best!'

'Of what? The Banshees?'

'But I need this to feed my family!'

'You live here under the servitude of Master Maya. You have no worries. Try next year, kiddo.'

"Not even summoning their spirit is going to bring back their dead career." She shooed away the possibility. "Rakugo is another cool performance that can be done, small plays could serve as education about the Kurain traditions and powers. But…"

"But…?"

"I like to do my little spin of action and character development with a modern twist."

'Don't say samurai. Don't say samurai. Don't say samurai…'

"My version of the femme fatale Pink Princess and her trusty Steel Samurai!" She beamed with the possibilities. "We'll call it the Rosé and the Steel Thorn! Or something like that! We'll work on the name later."

'Who ever saw that coming?'

"It's going to be hard finding a tall male model, I mean they are just abundant in an all female village..." She slouched, monotone. Her eyes dwindled a bit before locking onto him.

"You're going to shove me in a full armored suit?" He squirmed at the idea. "Why not ask Apollo?"

'I mean Trucy is already using him for target practice…'

"Nick, you need all the help you can get in that office and I know you don't want to lose that boy anytime soon."

"You're right…"

"The antagonist needs to be someone who's much too powerful to take down! The kind that screams 'it's bigger! It's badder! Ladies and gentlemen, it is too much for our heroes!' Something otherworldly that could level the very reality we live in! Someone or something that would make the Magistrate and all those overpowered supervillains look like chums!"

"I'm pretty sure you'd think of something otherworldly." He stated matter of factly, "I mean that is your business."

"We would start off with traditional robes first, then with the budget increase later on, we can put a knight in shining samurai armor then work on the bad guy." An idea buzzed, "some stories always start off with the bad guy first though, but like a silhouette or something. There we go, save a few transitions and character backgrounds."

"Something new and original is what the media needs badly today." Wright suggested, "maybe you should throw Pearls as a good candidate next time when you need a boost for your theatre."

"One step at a time! Kingdom or theatre first?" She juggled the weight of a three story. No scratch that! FIVE story castle decked to her own tastes and decorum or the theatrical dome that could even inspire the envy of Shakespeare if she channeled him. "I get one or the other at a time."

"So which one are you picking first?" He wondered which gift she would frolic.

"Building on what I have already. We need to make Kurain a must see attraction for tourists. It's there, but visuals is what keeps people more in tune to the true culture and serene of the temples and gardens."

'I guess she's picking up her crown.'

"Plus the girls need to also see what a man looks like, too." Her mouth covered a snicker.

"I know what you mean." The reminder brought the smaller medium to his mind once more, specifically the first time he ever saw her. "Pearl looked at me like I was a completely different species."

"It might've been your hair." Maya propounded.

"My… hair?" Wright sheepishly brought one hand to brush the nape of his neck.

"Yeah, who has spikes like that?" She inferenced honesty wasn't good with his pride, but it's coming out whether he liked it or not. "Don't get offended, I thought they were weird in the beginning, too."

He patted the stab capable natural spikes with a pout. "It's not changing anytime soon. It's a signature look, too."

"To punk rockers?"

"No…" He redirected, "but walking around in a robe doesn't draw attention either."

"You uncultured swine!" She swayed her robe. "You weren't complaining all those years ago. Were you?"

"I kinda did," he rubbed the back of his neck. The initial thought of this girl in the office he met the first night before discovering the inanimate body of his boss was how strange she appeared in the robe, but then reality settled in hard.

"Wow, at least you had some filter," she sarcastically boasted about his social skills.

"Well, I'm a punk rocker and you were that girl in that weird dress."

"Kimono!" She gasped, "definitely uncultured. Maybe one day you can learn how to put it on correctly. And then maybe you learn how to take it off properly."

"As it easy it is to pull off?" He snatched a finger in the small bow of her obi, the sole piece holding her robe together."

"Don't you dare!" She gripped the opposite end of the fabric closest to her, so her robe wouldn't open to the world. "Strip me in public and I'll skin you alive."

"Classy…" He hissed, tugging the sash a hint more, slipping a few more centimeters.

"Don't make me pants you!" She threatened.

Although he knew with one hand occupied and a belt looped around his waist, her promise wouldn't yield any results. There was something else interesting about Maya at the moment. She was rattled and bothered. She was caught in a weak spot and wriggling about like a fish on a hook, but not with much effort unless she'd end of unrobing herself. Figuring she'd had enough and just as equally as reluctant, he finished having fun.

He unhooked his finger. "Okay, I give."

She dragged him down at the collar, murmuring into his ear. "I'll get you later!"

She had a tiny mist to the edge of her robe in the revealing opening of her neck. An odd fragrance she didn't spritz after her morning care. It was acidic and lactatious, but light and fresh as well as tantalizing musk when her worried face took his initiative seriously for that brief moment. A tiny nervous sweat, fueled on by the noon late summer breeze and his audacity to disrobe her so openly. If fear had a scent, then this must be just the beginning concentration of perspiration towards the ultimate eau de parfum. It fits snugly with this medium. It fit her very nicely. He liked it very much.

He dragged the point of his nose across the curvature of her jaw, taking a free sample eagerly along for the road. He met her determined and unpacified gleam, a look Maya constantly gave when she was dead set on something or desired. Such a heavy stance from Maya would have him at his own throat and against a wall, terrified on what sort of payback she was planning to catch up with him later. Not now. He wondered. Wondered what this masterful medium had tumbling in that ravenous brain of hers. What other scents could this medium create?

He craned his neck, left and right, watching the flecks casted on onyx hair and downcasted smoldering cerulean blue ignited with intention like a rare mountain flower with a tiny space comfortable without thorns. The logical part in the back of his mind told him to fear this mischievous sprite. Who knows what not so ill intent, but still nerve wracking idea she would conjure from ideas of one plane of souls to the next? That part was starting to sink in the bubbly murkiness like the color of his hair. The replacement was more than happy to take the front seat. The sensation that swirled unpresentable pieces of his being was smitten off that whaff Maya unknowingly yet gratuitously let him devote to.

"Nick... Nick! You're supposed to be scared, not infatuated with the idea." Her obi bow and sash you were fixed along with her robe by time he caught up to what she was saying. "Or maybe you are scared and it was a super effective move? Fairies are strong against dragons."

"Either way, I know you're going to force me to make it up to you," he skipped the trial and went straight to the sentencing. "What makes you say you're a fairy? You're more of a ghost type."

"Nuh-uh!" She denied. "I summon those. I don't plan on being one any time soon."

"And dragon? I don't breathe fire."

"Well, you're weak against Feys." She batted her eyelids, "look at Pearl this morning. I had to get you out of that mess."

He felt Pearls wrath. Those slaps were without a doubt very effective unprovoked or not.

"And you hate ice. One little icy shower from the mountain waters of Hazakura and you're almost down for the count." She praised flatly, "my girls could have a full conversation without a stutter."

"In the dead of February… the coldest month of the year at a retreat for mediums that have experience with sub zero freezing for a living." He exasperated just as cold. "Anyone else would make an impression of an icicle."

"No. I've met people who've done the training in Hazakura and made it out alive."

'There should be a contract or waiver to sign before going into that place in case of injury… or death!'

"People who climb Mount Everest? An skimo." The words tumbled out in guesses.

"Those people have insulation climbing those mountains! The training is just the robe on your back! I have yet to meet any eskimos. It'd be nice to see one doing the Ultra Course." She pondered on the idea for a bit before returning back to the topic. "No to both of those. One strike left, Nick."

"You'd tell me anyway." He gave in.

"You're no fun at all." Maya shoved him playfully. "Come on, Nick. I told you already."

'What kind of sane person would undergo that torture with no real benefit? A masochist? A sadist? A sadomasochist?'

"Can I have a hint?" He asked for a lifeline.

"I gave you the answer. I can't give you anymore."

"You gave…" Wright thought back. The first envisioned list would be the S&M goers, but that would include a long list of witnesses and convicts who had no right to spoil a good day. Not to mention, Maya did not utter a syllable of any lunies or special cases. Then the face rolled around like a second part of himself which was not off putting either. "Oh!"

"You finally got it." She teased, "took you long enough, Mr. Big Attorney!"

"Ms. Spectre and her partner at the party." He registered.

"It was amazing watching them go inside. And when they came out they were like… brand new people!"

'So they died and came back to life?'

"Like they had a whole body cleanser and for the spirit!" That anecdotal sparkle came in her eyes, bound to exacerbate the idea that came from her cauldron. "That's it. I'm going to call it a therapy to cleanse body and soul - Ultra Course."

'Unlike charcoal or other toxin removing chemicals… Freezing is to preserve…'

"I don't think it works like tha-"

She cut him off. "It could attract more people to the village as a vacation spot! This is good!"

'There's no stopping her… Maybe it's meditation. Maybe it's Maya.'

"Who was this other person with Ms. Spectre?" Maya spoke numerous times about Ms. Spectre's partner yet he has no exact name to attach to this man's face.

"Dr. Sully, though I feel like that is a nickname…" She introduced highly, "he's a doctor and very chivalrous if I do say so myself."

'A doctor? In what? Philosophy?'

"What is chivalrous to you Maya?"

"It's not just holding open doors and dropping your jacket on a puddle for your ladyship to walk over." Maya bowed, "it's mannerism and tending to the needs or request of a lady."

"Who told you this?" He questioned skeptically on her credible source.

"The man himself."

"I thought a gentleman would never leave a puzzle unsolved."

"That, too. I do follow," Maya acknowledged. "Take the context that I was that puzzle."

'Maya… stop setting yourself up… you're unsolvable.'

"Ms. Spectre let me borrow him for a while when I was in the city and back."

"You didn't tell me you were here earlier…" Wright hid the fact being left out in her attendance unsettled him.

"Duh…! It's called a surprise. You tell the joke first then the punchline."

"What did you do?" He raised, not entirely wanting to hear the entire truth.

"We walked around the city. He helped me out with a couple things. Drove me around in a fancy limo town car! Ran a few errands for me." Maya blethered vaguely on details. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he tried to land an impression."

"You're easily impressed, Maya." He commented too quickly in a snark.

"No, I am not!" She denied outright. "You'd be impressed if you were in my shoes. Beverly Drive and Rodeo Hills! You almost need a VIP pass to get in there!"

The long street of the upperclassmen and women of the city were virtually only allowed by an undocumented rule. Wright wouldn't be caught dead in one of those places unless he were to investigate someone dead. He couldn't treat Maya there himself if he wanted. Yet, this stranger tagged along with her there. This he did not like. He didn't have the right to tell Maya who to be with and who she's not allowed with, but the figment of someone else in his place was teetering despisable.

"I've never seen so many snobby people in my life! He defended me from most of them." She dug gaping, his dark thoughts following.

'Defended…?' The word reverberated harshly.

"It's funny how Pearly also came along. She wanted to see the sights, too."

This man had sat in the seat he himself owned. Disgruntlement replaced the grumbling in his belly to a simmer. She must've seen the disfigured complexion of displeasure strapped tightly. "Don't worry, Nick. Pearly was actually threatening the man."

"How so?" He voiced deeply.

"She embarrassed me…" She bopped her forehead. "Said he'd better not be thinking about replacing you."

'She's on the right track! I salute you tiny pink medium!'

"What did he say?"

"He said he wouldn't dream of replacing you as a true partner, unless…" She drawled conniving.

"Unless what?" He craned over more intently than he'd wanted.

"Oh. Nothing!"

"What was it?"

"Nothing you got to worry about, Nick." She chuckled, skipping a few feet away. "You could convince me to tell you."

'It has to do with your stomach, doesn't it?'

"Your ladyship requires sustenance posthaste!"

It came as no surprise. He caved to her request. They were arriving at the destination regardless. Either way, it's been a while since he and Maya had a peaceful moment exactly like this one in a while. As devout to her mystical ancestors, the only other passion to strive just as high was the love of her usual spot and food.

"You can probably find your fill here because your stomach got all picky."

'You won't live that down!'

Coming back was like revisiting an old friend or a childhood place, but consequently questionable on the health aspect. It was better than being outside for the time being. The heat dissipated speedily. Everything felt mostly back in order as he recovered. A waitress spun around after receiving an order from a table. Her eyes bugged out with an excitement that could tip the scales. The red aproned middle aged employee barreled towards Maya like a cannonball and grapled her tightly.

"Oh my goodness, Maya! You're back in!" She threw her shoulders back to get a good look one to see what time has done to this medium.

"I missed you, too, Wella!"

"MMMMMM!" Wella squeezed her once more. She peered over Maya's shoulder to see the blue attorney. "And you brought your mans!"

The waitress let Maya go before beckoning both to follow. She led them to their usual booth at the corner of the joint, three tables away from the kitchen near the windows.

She clicked her pen and flipped her ruffled ordering pad. "So what would you like?"

"The usual!" Maya piped, "but a little more on the rarer side of well done."

"Oooh, some variety," Wella wrote bated.

"Yea, I was recommended to have a tender and redder mix."

"Since when do you take anything outside of medium well?" Phoenix probed confused.

"Since I was hanging out in a place where the people only know fine dining and breathing." Maya leaned pleased.

"I bet they call burgers steamed hams kissed on a well crafted skillet only done by the best blacksmiths of some crazy named city I've never heard of."

"In a continent where only aurora borealis occurs," Maya finalized surprised. "Yep."

"I was just joking… nevermind."

"You want your usual, too?" The waitress inquired balmy, fingers waiting for the demand.

"I… hm…"

The thought of chicken felt dry and extremely undesirable in his mouth. He loomed several glances over other customers, watching what they were putting in their mouths. Everything felt bland and gulping down a fermented bottle of citrate that would sit in his stomach until it was flushed out of either ends unwillingly. The horrid cold sweat and sickly nausea wasn't helping either.

He couldn't ask Maya to spare a piece of her own meal. No sane person would ask a shark to share its dinner without losing a few limbs or a good chomp on a part they would miss. It wouldn't be the first time to leave Maya a meal while he would just watch her indulge like she fully enjoyed her dish. Perhaps she actually was. Yes she was.

"I'll wait a bit, Ms. Dunn…"

"Okay!" She clicked the back of her blue pen again and scurried off to complete her order.

"Don't be picky. Mr. Chicken sandwich," Maya chastised. "You're tummy still bothering you?"

"A little…" He palmed his raving stomach. This was not a usual hunger. It demanded sustenance, but everything was absolutely unappealing and would fold into itself on sight.

"Maybe you are coming down with something." Maya thought aloud. "You want to try some food to tame that rumbling beast in your gut?"

"Really?" He couldn't believe she was willing to share. "Sure, okay."

"Then get your own!"

'You fell for it, Wright.' He winced at his court bar.

By time her food arrived, his innards were doing flops and fighting for war. He figured his stomach was looking at his liver and it was starting to look really good and juicy.

"Oooooooh! The good stuff!" She rubbed her hands together towards the plate before her.

"Are you ready yet?" Wella sounded out once more at the ready.

His inner rambling was disrupted by the medium dining across the table. He couldn't leave her to the way she chomped down eagerly and put it away nicely. The way her lips wrap around her food and peered at it with such love. The exposure of juice dripping from the inner part of the plate had him silently whimper.

"I guess I'll have what she's having. No fries." He struggled out.

"More variety. I like it! Finally getting out of that egg shell," Wella jotted quickly. "Change is good sometimes."

As soon as the waitress disappeared, Maya twisted around to stare Wright down. "Trying to outbeat me?"

"With what?"

"Mixing up your order."

"No. I just." Crave? No, that doesn't sound right. "Want what you're having. It looks great."

"It tastes even better." She squeezed the buns just enough for a steady stream to fall in reddish water to drip lightly onto her plate.

A strong thump in his chest nearly made him heave from the desperate hunger that escalated ten fold. The wait was unbearable. He had to look away for a few minutes from Maya, head down as she happily sated her own appetite. The sounds she made; however, scrumptious and mushy behind her cheeks had him debilitatingly lean on his forehead. Teeth grinded on themselves, helplessly gnawing on nothing and wearing themselves down as fast as they healed.

A plate rested on the table at the corner of his sight. "Here you go-!"

Ms. Dunn never saw a consumer whip off a burger and munch on it like that before.

"!"

Still, disappointing. He sighed, resigned that the only savoury bit died in his mouth. It had about as much flavour as a hypersensitive allergic stuffy nose smack center of a blooming garden in the middle of spring could taste. It was the leftover uncooked middle that was the key. That tiny hint of hope however, was from the deepest portion.

"Would you like him to cook it a bit more?" Ms. Dunn figured his resignation must've been on the tenderness of the dish. "I know people tend to like less red."

"No. Actually, can you make it a little redder?" Wright contrasted.

"Sure! So you want that medium rare?"

"Yes. Nothing else on it."

"No lettuce, tomato, or condiments?"

"None."

She scooped the plate off to the kitchen.

"You're missing some food groups, man!" Maya argued, "cheese, dairy, lettuce, greens, tomato, fruit. Avocado, too, if you're exotic enough."

All landed unappetizing as she listed, "I don't think measuring a burger is a good source of nutrition."

Returning from the heat of the kitchen, a plain bunned burger, less on the browner side came up.

"There we go, one medium rare! Enjoy!" She clapped, but remained attendant for insurance.

His first chomp on a new bun. The juice wasn't as fulfilling but, it was getting close. Still as flavorful as tap water, but with enough crisp.

"Excuse me?" He brought a hand, reluctant to bother her once more.

"Hmmm…?"

"Can I get it redder?"

"So… rare?" She asked, a little less patiently.

"Yes." He kept the buns this time, mining not to be wasteful.

"Okay…" Wella recollected the plate with the slab of meat only. A few moments after the double doors opened she came back a little more terse.

It was so close but just not enough.

"Can I get it-"

"It's the same chef, Greasy." She cut him off, "I know the old guy ain't skimming on ingredients."

"You're wasting food man!" Maya agreed. "Shame on you!"

"We have to replace the burger every time. You can cook it more, not uncook it more." Ms. Dunn explained, "you can't get any rarer than that! Restaurant policy on consumption of raw foods, just letting you know."

"Just this one time," he pleaded.

She caved to the famished appearance and desperate look he gave her like he hadn't eaten in days. Wella Dunn came back one last time. There was no brown found about that piece of beef.

"It was barely kissed for like one minute on each side." She warned, partially disgusted "are you sure? It's practically raw."

"Please?" He managed.

"Fine! Since you are a loyal customer, but if you get sick, that's your fault. You should be warned, since you're a lawyer and all. Maya, back me up on this one" She finished scratching off previous orders on the tab.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to testify on your behalf." Maya chuckled.

"If I come back one more time, the Chef is going to blow a gasket! He already had a wonderful Kitchen Hell experience. I'm guaranteed our food isn't low par, but he said it's your funeral. So no more! Try to enjoy this time." She left, having no intention of returning until their meal was completely gone.

"Nick… that's not even cooked. I can hear it moo and sniff flowers right now," Maya chafed.

He flipped the buns over and stabbed it, watching a tiny spatter paint the fork. He did not intend on cutting a piece and letting the best part escape the muscle. Possessively dragging the slab, he lifted it and chomped down.

'YES! Finally!'

"It's a burger, not caviar." Maya deadpanned. He must've screamed so hard in his head he mumbled past his full underdone mouth.

It was the best thing he's had in the past week. Some chunks were not chewed, pieces effortlessly cut up by his incisors, falling deeply into his gullet. The best part was the gushing cool red, splashing all over his teeth to accumulate at the edges for him to drink. The irritating heat and heavy weight holding him down was entirely gone.

"I guess you were so hungry anything could pass as a meal… even the freshly butchered."

"Uuuuhhhhhhhh!" The rumble was born deeply with his chest, fisting and unclenching the tension away. "That hit most points."

"In Kurain, we also be careful of the cattle meat, just letting you know."

"We're not there." He licked his lips and the undersides of his bloody teeth clean.

"No, but at least you got some colour back on your face!" Maya noticed with content. "Even your eyes are brighter. I'll try not to tell the rest of the office you just ate raw beef."

The cushion of the booth puffed as he leaned back, more sated and relaxed. Something wriggled inside him with his stomach now mostly full, untroubled as a recently dealt itch. He could finally catch sight of Maya congenial without the paresthesia of earmarking her. The threshing did not cease entirely. It requested something much more sustaining, lively and warmer, especially the one in his sights.

"Let me know when the salmonella hits!" She laughed. "So you have a new favourite? Besides the chicken anyway."

"You didn't touch your fries…" He changed the topic laxed, he leaned down in a pounce. "So unbecoming of you."

"I… I'm just trying to keep my figure uniformed under this robe." Her recently grease dried fingers glided down her robe, to the under parts of her ribs. Something about the contours of her tracings caught his attention steadfast. "I'll save these for Pearly."

"They'll get soggy by then."

"Not if you wrap them up nicely in several napkins." She proceeded to do as such from the napkin dispenser of the side. Once she finished and got a baggy for the wedges, she cleaned up her hands, "ready to go?"

He answered before he might actually fulfill that inner wish, "Sure."