On the outskirts of St. Canard, the Juniper Wind Farm was currently being built in a large field of rolling hills (the city often referred to it as Echo Hills). EcoTech had named it the Wellings Project, after the family who sold them the land for it.

It was a place that mankind had not touched.

Yet.

Kimbra didn't really want the farm built on the land. She wanted to preserve it. Leave it as is. But she had approved the Wellings Project, and the turbines had to go somewhere.

She tried to convince herself that the wind turbine farm would do a lot of good. That she made the right decision in approving the project.

Because after all, 'your choice matters'.

Well… that's what their business cards said, anyway.

A glimpse of Dr. Ainsley passing through the hallway caught Kimbra's eye. She grabbed her clipboard and rushed out the door. Something the two of them have done dozens of times by now. She'd have to seek him out for details on their current projects. The man never stayed in one place or let anyone know where he was. Kimbra found it relatable to some degree, but wished her boss was more accessible at times.

When she caught up to the older scientist, she spoke. "Have you picked a sponsor for the Wellings Project?"

"I have, he'll be here later today to meet with you."

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Reiff, the fashion designer." Dr. Ainsley glanced back at Kimbra, who was scribbling rapidly on her clipboard. "I think he was here for the C.O.R.E presentation."

"I don't remember him."

"You probably wouldn't," a smile formed onto his face. "I think you only remember Mr. Flud, am I right?" It wasn't really a question.

Kimbra wished she could say she was surprised by the comment. The older man liked to tease those around him, especially her.

She frowned, not looking up from her clipboard. "Sir."

"I'm only teasing." He chuckled. "Mr. Reiff will be here at one, so make a good impression."

"Sir, don't I always?"

The reptile merely raised his eyebrows at her, as if to say, 'do you really want to go there?'

She prefered never having to answer that.

By the middle of the afternoon, Kimbra had forgotten all about the meeting with Mr. Reiff. Almost missed it entirely had Dr. Ainsley not stopped by her office. Time had passed at a leisurely pace.

A soft knock on her door made the Samoyed glance up from her papers.

In the doorway stood Dr. Ainsley, leaning against the frame casually.

Was she in trouble? How could she be in trouble? She'd been signing off and filling out paperwork all morning.

"Mr. Reiff is in the conference room," He paused for a moment and then said, "Make a good impression."

Her eyes widened warily at the clock on the wall and flicked over to her boss. "Wait, he's already here?"

"Yes…? I said he'd be here at one. And it's one o'clock." He held up his wrist to his face, tapped on the face of a watch. "Unless this thing is broken."

"Oh, no. I just lost track of time, I suppose."

A corner of his mouth curved upward involuntarily.

"Don't we all?"

Each step towards the conference room made Kimbra's stomach turn. No one else seemed to notice that the canine's nerves were shot to hell. Her heart was practically about to thump out of her chest. Tried to ignore it. Yet, she swore those passing by her could hear it. It seemed to get worse when she thought about it. But she couldn't stop thinking about it.

She glanced around, still no one reacted.

The sound of chatter from a nearby meeting room drowned out her anxious thoughts, but only temporarily.

Stopping in front of the conference door made Kimbra realize she really didn't want to do this. A top-line fashion designer stood on the other side. Someone she had to entertain and convince this was all for the greater good. That their project was selfless and would help mankind. That he wasn't wasting his money on them.

Great, you're starting to sound like a congressman.

Two quick knocks on the door. A deep breath. And then another. She would be calm and composed for him. Professional.

Kimbra plastered a smile on her face as she opened the door.

Make a good impression. You can do that.

Almost tripped over her own two feet when she made an attempt to step into the room.

Then again, maybe not.

Blue eyes from a dark furred feline looked up at her. He sat in one of the many office chairs that surrounded the large table. A leg crossed over his knee. The man dressed formally, a dark suit and a blue tie. One of the nicest suits Kimbra had ever seen. It had to be expensive.

She tried to play off her clumsiness as nothing. That it didn't even happen. "Ah, you must be Mr. Reiff."

He shifted forward in his seat. "Please, call me River. My father is Mr. Reiff." If he noticed her trip, he didn't make it obvious.

"River, pleasure to meet you." Kimbra held out a hand to the man.

She wasn't really interested in being chatted up, and she could see it coming. Sponsors usually wanted to talk nonstop. Mostly about themselves (cough cough Bud Bernard Flud cough). She figured River would be the same.

River didn't take her hand. He didn't shake it. Didn't even glance at it. Like he didn't even want to be here.

This wasn't how it was supposed to work.

What Kimbra didn't know was that River already hated the place. He decided on that as soon as he stepped through those glass lobby doors. The fashion designer tried to stay optimistic, but luck could only get him so far. He didn't know a thing about computers or the fans that the company wanted to build. It all seemed like a bore to him.

Of course, his dear sister (Kinsey) talked him into having the Reiff brand sponsor something. Said it was for the greater good. But what did she know?

More than him, apparently, considering she ran their PR team. The nerd.

"Pleasure is all mine, Dr. ...Wulfe right?" He stood from the uncomfortable chair, looking down at her. Analyzing her. Trying to figure her out.

Which Kimbra didn't like.

"Yes, Mr.– River. You're free to call me Kimbra if we're on a first name basis."

The cat winced when she said her name. "I think Dr. Wulfe will do just fine."

River wanted to leave right then and there. But now he was here, and there was no way out. At least no easy way out. Kinsey would tackle him to the floor if she found out he ditched the meeting. And then smack him on the face with his own hand while calling him a moron.

He made a face at the thought of such a barbaric scene.

Kimbra tried not to let her irritation show too much as she led him to her office. Made an attempt to not repeat her behavior from the C.O.R.E Project. Ainsley would probably fire her on the spot if she got into a fight with another sponsor.

The sound of their footsteps echoed in the silent corridor as they passed by several doors. Each one bore a bright brassy nameplate.

Security Office

Dr. Collette

Dr. Stecker

Meeting Room 1

Meeting Room 2

Calyx Development Room

…

Kimbra frowned and stopped in front of the closed door.

Calyx? What the hell is Calyx? I don't remember authorizing that. Does Dr. Ainsley know about this? Is this something he authorized? Why wasn't I told about this?

River got a few steps ahead before realizing the Samoyed was no longer keeping up. "Dr. Wulfe?" He peered back at her behind his shoulder.

Kimbra caught up with the feline, but as they continued on, she peeked once more over her shoulder at the nameplate. They continued walking in silence to her office.

Guess she'd find out sooner or later.

River's face had been devoid of expression the entire time. Like he was bored. She was boring him. Great.

She had been going over the wind turbine farm to him for the last twenty minutes. Did she think the feline understood any of what she was saying? No. Did she think he was even trying to understand? No.

He doesn't even want to be here. You're boring, Kimbra. Boring.

Kimbra couldn't say she hadn't been expecting that.

"Well, we have the project planned to start construction, Thursday morning. It's a pretty straightforward process, and we already have the permits for it. Not that we wouldn't build anything without a permit. That's illegal." Kimbra took a deep breath. She was rambling. Tried to fix the conversation at hand and only worsened it.

And she was also lying. They built the underground testing facility without a permit because the city council wouldn't give it to them.

Way to go Kimbra, not only are you boring, you're a liar.

River simply grunted in response, still seated in front of her desk. "Do you do anything besides this lame nerd stuff?" He asked, leaning an elbow on the corner of the desk.

Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea, after all. She was getting nowhere with this guy. And he basically just called her a nerd. A lame one at that.

"I uh…" she trailed off, obviously embarrassed. Rubbed her arm.

Not really. She mostly worked, ate, slept, and spent time with what few friends she did have.

Oh, and Bud. Kimbra almost forgot about that new addition into her life.

"I play tennis on Thursdays, you should join me." River said it so casually. That it meant nothing to him if she said no. Which, it probably didn't.

"Tennis?"

"Yes, tennis. At the Juniper Country Club. Thursdays during lunch. You can be my guest. It'd be a good opportunity for us to discuss the project with the big fans." He gestured vaguely between them with his hand. "We can… do that thing where people bond."

"Turbines." Kimbra corrected him. Big fans.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes, growing bored again. "So?"

Kimbra didn't want to. She really didn't, but denying a sponsor felt wrong. And she had promised Dr. Ainsley she'd make a good impression. "I guess…"

"Good," he practically purred. "It'd be nice to have some company that isn't idiotic."

"I take it you don't have many friends?"

The feline shook his head discontentedly. "No, because this city is filled to the brim with filth and freaks, and I have actual taste." He stopped talking and squinted back at her. "You're one of the few people I feel like I can tolerate."

She wondered why he admitted that. But at least they both could agree on something for once. That St. Canard's population was nothing more than idiotic weirdos.

"Thanks?"

Involuntarily, his eyes flicked up and down her body. "Your attire could use some tweaking though… maybe I can work with your figure…" He contemplated, tapping his chin with a finger.

Kimbra looked down at herself in disbelief. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

River gave her a look of pity. "Honey, you look like you work at a Hot Topic."

"Hot Topic? Really?" She didn't sound too bothered—if she was, she didn't want him to know that.

"Yes, really." At that point, River could only scoff at her and shake his head.

"I think I dress just fine." Kimbra protested, a little more defensively than she'd intended.

His lips tightened in a grimace.

"Maybe if you're blind," the fashion designer said quietly into what sounded like a cough.

Kimbra refrained from saying anything further. Only glared at River, not liking to be the subject of any joke. She made no remark, wanting to please Dr. Ainsley. She promised to make a good impression on the feline. Their partnership would only be for two to six months, depending on how large EcoTech intended to build the wind turbine farm.

After the Wellings Project, River Reiff would be onto much bigger and better things, soon enough. Out of her mind and out of her hair.

And he continued on. "I'd work on that, considering we'll be seen in public together from now on."

She saw River's lips twitch into a small smile before it disappeared.

And with that, he left without so much as saying goodbye.

Across the city, in the industrial park, stood a water bottling factory. And on the top floor, sitting in his office, sat Bud Flud. A very distracted and bored Bud Flud.

He had watched the morning shift already. Made his rounds throughout the departments and warehouse. Inspected his employees' work and made comments here and there. Talked to investors and assured them progress was being made at Flud Water. Sat through two meetings and dozens of phone calls. Now scattered papers sat upon his desk, waiting to be signed and filed.

Bud Flud was an impatient man who just wanted the day to end.

He glanced at the clock. Three hours to go.

And so, he picked up the phone, pondering whether or not he should call the Samoyed he became so fond of.

It wasn't like he was starving for attention or anything.

Bud smiled as he called her, unconsciously running a hand through his hair and fixed his shirt as the phone rang. A habit he had developed due to his relationship with the scientist.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Bud drummed his fingers on his desk in a slouched over position as he waited for an answer. The water bottle salesman almost didn't think she'd pick up. Brushed it off as her being too busy. Which was fine. He could call her again later.

Back at EcoTech, Kimbra picked up her phone without taking a glance at it as she held up a beaker, filled with a green substance. Hit the answer button and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

Bud perked up at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. "Princess! Hi! I almost gave up on you there for a minute."

"You wouldn't be the first person to give up on me," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Kimbra spoke into the phone, dropping the beaker. It shattered into several pieces, spilling the liquid onto the floor. "Oh shit, that was acidic. Ohhhh it's eating through the floor, ohhhh I'm so dumb."

Oh, Kimbra.. Poor poor, dumb Kimbra. You screwed up big time.

She took a step back, watching as the liquid slowly ate into the floor, revealing the office below. It was a small hole, but still noticeable. Great.

"Is now not a good time, darling? I can always call back later." The excitement was clear in his voice, although worry crept in slowly. "You didn't spill acid on yourself, did you?"

I wish, then I wouldn't have to suffer Ainsley's wrath if it killed me.

"No, it's all over the lab, and it ate through the floor. Now it's dripping into another scientist's office. I'm gonna just leave and pretend it wasn't me, but hi babyyyyy how are you?" Kimbra held the phone to her ear with a shoulder. Grabbing a broom to quickly clean up the glass shards.

Not that it made a difference considering the big hole in the floor.

"Sounds like a riveting day," he chuckled. "I'm well. Just going through this pile of paperwork on my desk."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds fun." She wasn't really paying much attention to the hound, hurriedly disposing of the glass. Cleaned up her area and poked her head out of the room.

The coast was clear.

"Not really." Bud began going on a tangent about paperwork, which again, Kimbra wasn't listening to.

But he was telling her anyway.

Not that she didn't care about what her boyfriend had to say. Her focus leaned more towards not getting caught by her boss.

Kimbra ducked into a random room, out of Dr. Ainsley's sight, who was heading towards the lab. No way in hell was she going through safety training again. It's why she didn't sign her name on the lab sheet. They didn't have cameras in the lab rooms or this part of the hall, so she didn't have to worry about getting caught.

Unless some sorry loser saw her and snitched.

She'd respond into the phone with a few 'uh-huhs' and 'oh-reallys'. Bud still didn't pick up on her not really listening, and continued his rant about pen smears and paper cuts.

Kimbra poked her head out of the room, to make sure the coast was clear. It was.

Good.

She paced to the elevator, grateful it opened as soon as she pressed the button and stepped inside, heading back up to her office. Kimbra shifted on her feet in the elevator, waiting for it to stop on her floor. Almost forgot about the hound still on the other line. Quickly held it back to her ear.

"-so?" He asked. Waiting for an answer to a question that Kimbra didn't have the context for.

She cleared her throat a little. "Oh, sorry, I was… doing something."

"I asked if you wanted to have dinner tonight."

"Sure! My place? We can order takeout from that restaurant on Main Street."

"Sounds good, is five o'clock okay?"

"That's fine." Kimbra stepped off the elevator when it came to a halt and the doors slid apart. She moved past a small group of scientists as she made her way down the corridor.

Still no sign of Dr. Ainsley.

"And you can tell me all about your dayyy."

She smiled as she stepped into her office. It felt nice to have someone who genuinely cared about how her day went. Sure, Kimbra had her family, but they were all the way in Brittlesburg. Sometimes she just needed someone to talk to in person.

"You don't want to hear about boring old science stuff."

"I actually do. It's very interesting when it comes out of your pretty little mouth."

Kimbra picked up a small stack of paperwork on her desk. Someone had dropped it off for her earlier. Held it up to her face and squinted at the fine writing on the bottom.

Wellings Project Processing Form #345981

"You probably don't understand half of what I even say." She pressed the phone against her ear with a shoulder, shuffling the papers. Might as well finish them at home. Especially since she wanted to sneak out before Dr. Ainsley questioned her about the lab.

"I don't, but I still like hearing about your day."

A smile teased the edges of her mouth. "I know you do. I like hearing about your day, too."

"Oh, you want to hear all about it? Even the boring water stuff?"

"Not that part."

He chuckled. "Well, I'll let you get back to work. See you tonight, okay? Love you."

"Love you too."

The couple said their goodbyes, and the scientist set her phone down on the desk. Worked on getting her things together in preparation to go home.

Half an hour later, Kimbra managed to get herself out of the building and into her car without Dr. Ainsley spotting her. She studiously avoided running into him so far. So getting out of the parking deck and onto the main road without him seeing her shouldn't be too difficult.

She figured he'd hunt her down tomorrow and ask about it. Have to lie her way into the clear, and maybe he'd forget about the whole thing or pin the blame on something else. Like an intern. She smiled at the thought. Yeah, she'd blame a random poor intern, and they'd have to take the safety training course. She'd get off Scot-free.

Brilliant.

Dark clouds loomed overhead, making the afternoon seem a lot later than it was.

Bud had arrived at Kimbra's apartment on time as he had promised, Chinese takeout containers in hand. He hadn't bothered to change clothes (not wanting to be late), still wearing his work outfit. He had taken off his suit jacket and blue tie in the car, leaving him in his suit pants, yellow dress shirt, and dress shoes.

Currently, Kimbra sat on the floor of her living room, organizing paperwork. Papers she still needed to sign. She'd finish some before she went to bed, and the rest when she woke up. Wasn't a big deal.

Bud sat on the couch across from her, talking as he usually did. Which Kimbra liked to listen to him. It was comforting in a way.

She tapped her chopsticks against a takeout container, reviewing a file about this month's budget for the project department. Would take a bite of rice or chicken every so often while sorting through her work.

"You should scold Ainsley for making you take your work home." Bud's eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration and frustration, as he failed to hold the utensils properly. The chopsticks crossed over one another, awkwardly. Each time the hound tried to grab noodles with it, one would slip out of his grasp.

Now he was just getting frustrated.

Kimbra eyed him for a second before focusing back on her own food. "It's fine. I just like to stay ahead of everything. He'd most likely scold me for bringing work home. He thinks I overwork myself."

The CEO didn't say anything as he tried again to use the chopsticks. Didn't work. Couldn't even take hold of the noodles. He kept dropping them.

I'm never going to learn, he thought morosely. Making another failed attempt to use the damn things.

"Do you not know how to use chopsticks?" Kimbra spoke around a mouthful of rice.

Bud froze, looking straight into his carton of noodles. Then slowly looked up at his girlfriend in embarrassment. "No."

"I'll go get you a fork," she stood up from the floor, retreating to the kitchen momentarily.

"Thanks," he sighed, dropping the chopsticks on the small table in front of him. Picked up an egg roll, dipping the whole thing in sweet and sour sauce before biting into it.

Bud then stared down at the stack of papers Kimbra had been sorting, but failed to grasp the meaning behind any of them. Most had charts with dozens of numbers and calculations written on them (perhaps a budget). Others looked like legal documents. And the rest were clear blueprints for something. His head cocked to the side in interest.

Was that for the Wellings Project?

As quick as she had left, the scientist returned to the living room. Utensil in hand.

Kimbra sat back down across from Bud, handing him a fork. "I can teach you how to use chopsticks, if you'd like."

He took it, looking at her with a flash of surprise crossing his eyes. "You'd do that for me?"

"Yeah? It's not that hard, Buddy." She gave him a smile before going back to shoving rice in her mouth.

What Kimbra didn't know is that Bud hadn't meant it that way. He wasn't used to anyone offering to help him, apart from Uncle Rufus. His parents usually brushed him off or made him feel guilty when he asked for help.

So he just stopped asking entirely.

He shook his head and shoved those thoughts away. Harrison Flud often found his way into Bud's thoughts, something that had happened occasionally throughout the years. Time hadn't made the ordeal any less painful, and Bud wondered if it would ever get easier.

Bud harshly swallowed down the rest of his egg roll.

They ate in silence as each dwelled in their own thoughts. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but wished he could. Part of him worried deep down that he had embarrassed himself in front of her. That she thought of him poorly for not knowing how to do something. If she did, it didn't show in her face.

Unbeknownst to Bud, that wasn't what his girlfriend was thinking at all.

It's late, you can't ask him to stay longer. Stop being so pathetic, Kimbra's mind had been telling her for the last twenty minutes. Hated how fast time seemed to pass when the two were together. It never felt like enough.

He's going to think you're clingy. Knock it off.

A glance at the clock on the wall told her that, yeah, it was getting pretty late.

Ask him anyway.

"Bud?"

"Hm?"

"Can you stay for a little while longer? I kind of… don't want to be alone right now." Kimbra admitted sheepishly. He made her feel so comfortable…so at peace. After the day she had, it was needed for a bit longer.

There was nothing wrong with that. Right?

Probably. But she would rather not dwell on it.

"But you don't have to!" She quickly added, not wanting to come on too strong."If you have work early in the morning… or things to do."

"Of course I will," Bud reached over to pat her hand reassuringly. "You know I'd do anything for you. Money-back guarantee."

Kimbra regretted asking him now. "God, you're so annoying sometimes."

"I know, but you love me."

Her gaze flicked bashfully away, but only for a second. "That I do."

"Anyway, did you have a nice day at the office? Besides the whole 'spilling acid' scenario."

Kimbra snorted. "Livin, the dream."

"Sounds like you didn't have a good day."

"If babysitting a prissy fashion designer is your idea of a good day, then I had a blast."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Kimbra toyed with the idea of venting about her day. About the pain-in-the-ass sponsor she had to deal with. Found it ironic that Bud was her last pain-in-the-ass sponsor.

Might as well.

"Okay so, we started the wind turbine project," she began. "And our sponsor is some snobby fashion designer. A needy one at that." Felt like it came out a little bit bitter and found herself unable to care.

"I hope you aren't already leaving me for someone else." Bud joked. Mostly at how ironic she seemed to be working with another person she despised.

He got a glare that told him to shut up, or he wouldn't hear the rest of the story. Bud waved a hand for her to continue.

"Anyway, he wants me to play tennis with him, Bud. Tennis." She finished off the sentence with an irritable sigh.

"So?"

"I don't even play tennis!" Kimbra exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and letting them hit her thighs with a muffled thump. "I'm supposed to be working on the project, not babysitting some prissy fashion designer."

"I think Ainsley is just networking. Y'know? Building business relationships?"

"He's not doing it!" She pointed at herself. "I am! Why can't he play tennis with the guy instead?"

"Did the fashion designer ask Dr. Ainsley to play tennis with him?"

"No, he asked me."

"There's your answer." Bud splayed out his hands, as if that solved anything. "And Ainsley is old. He might break a hip or something."

"He isn't that old."

"He's like, seventy-something. He pretty much is that old."

True. But Dr. Ainsley was in decent shape for a seventy-something year old. The idea of him breaking a hip or injuring himself at all during tennis felt like a foreign concept.

Literally impossible. The man was too stubborn for that.

Kimbra thought again about River's offer of playing tennis with her. Really, it was just for fun, right? Maybe he genuinely needed a friend. Her ears dropped slightly at the thought of someone being so alone, so desperate for companionship, that they sought it out in the form of sponsoring a project.

She couldn't help feeling that there was something vaguely pathetic about it all.

Nah, no way River would blow a shitload of money just to make a friend.

At least, she hoped that was the reason after all. She couldn't think of any other purpose of him inviting her to a tennis match. Unless he wanted to humiliate her further.

Probably.

Nevertheless, the matter was out of her hands. Ainsley counted on her to appease the man, so he'd continue funding the project.

Bud pulled her out of her internal rambling with a question. "Is this guy really that bad?"

Kimbra nodded, poking out her bottom lip in a small pout. "He said I dress like I work at Hot Topic."

Bud let out a loud laugh. As if it were the funniest thing he'd heard all week.

Which it was.

She frowned, tilting her head. "It is not that funny."

"It is, actually." He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "It's hilarious."

"No, no it's not! I don't even dress like that!" Slightly annoyed, Kimbra sighed loudly as she played with her food. "I just don't know why I get stuck with all the difficult sponsors."

"I wasn't difficult." Bud wasn't sure how confident he sounded.

Kimbra raised her eyebrows at the businessman. "You were."

"No, I was an absolute delight. A blessing."

Kimbra looked straight at Bud. Laughed. Looked at him again. Laughed some more.

He let out a wordless whine. "I was!"

Another laugh. "Yeah, yeah, if you say so."

He dipped his head to whisper to her. "You're lucky, I'm so kind-hearted and caring. I might have taken offense to that, you know."

"You? Take offense?"

"Yes, I might just walk straight out of here. Never come back."

Kimbra's sad little face was so pitiful, he almost laughed. "You wouldn't, you'd miss me." She didn't want him to leave, as pathetic as that sounded.

"I would."

"And you weren't really that bad, I was just playing with you." A lie, but one that'd save his feelings, and therefore not one she felt bad about telling.

"Uh huh," the hound didn't really sound as if he believed her. He tossed her one of the fortune cookies from the takeout bag. Ripping open his own. Broke the cookie to munch on half of it as he read the slip of paper inside.

"Do not be afraid of competition." A snort left his mouth after reading the paper. Crumbled it up and dropped it back into the bag. "These always have the dumbest fortunes."

Kimbra cracked her own cookie in half and peered inside of it.

'People aren't always as they seem.'

She felt a wave of unease at just the thought. Fortune cookies weren't actual fortunes. They were a mere form of entertainment. Something to laugh about at the end of a meal.

But Kimbra couldn't stop thinking about it. What if River wasn't what he seemed? Was the cookie sending her a warning sign? To back out of the project? No, no, of course not. It was a regular old cookie with a printed slip of paper inside of it. It meant nothing.

Neither of the fortunes meant absolutely anything.