Okay, I've finally got confirmation I'll be getting the courtesy car my insurance promises (two weeks after the incident ffs!) and they'll be arranging it today. What a pain!

Cover Art: Kirire

Chapter 38

Blake woke up, as she normally did, miserable and surly. It wasn't anyone's fault. She was well-paid, secure in her work and life, and had made up with her parents. There wasn't even a world-ending anomaly on the cards today. It was just early morning on a weekday in Vale with cars going by outside her apartment block and not enough coffee in her system. As usual, she felt a little better once she'd had a steaming cup at her local faunus-friendly barista, and then even better after a quick walk in the sunlight to properly wake up. By the time she came back to the Containments Office, she had a blueberry bun wrapper in one hand and the remnants of it in her mouth, and she practically danced into the office.

"Good morning!"

Jaune looked up from his desk, eyes shadowed and shoulders hunched up. He looked like he needed an injection of muffins directly into his veins. A shame she hadn't left any for him. Timothy responded more predictably by rising up on its hind legs, hissing, and scuttling toward her like something out her nightmares. Blake patted his head as she went by, picked up a bag of dried crickets and sprinkled some on the floor for him to hoover up.

"No good morning greetings?" she asked. Jaune shot her a surly glower. "Sheesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed. We finished the job in Beacon. Good for us. We should celebrate."

"Are you on drugs…?"

"I'm on blueberry muffins, said Blake. "It might be the same thing." Plopping down on her sofa, she kicked her feet up onto the coffee table and licked her fingers clean. "So, any decision made on that dog? Is it a part of I AM DOG we never found before that it could talk to me, or could it also be an anomaly?"

"I've spoken to Coral and she says the collar was tested for communication with animals – both with human and faunus subjects. There was never any sign it enabled communication."

Blake leaned forward. "Then the dog is anomalous?"

"It's anomalous but not an anomaly. I spoke with Ruby about it." He winced, which she could well understand given the last time they'd talked. It was good, though. He and Ruby should make up and become friends again. Maybe have her join the office again. Then they could be a happy, happy trio again. It'd be awesome. "Ruby says Zwei has his aura unlocked, which I'm inclined to believe is the main reason for the discrepancy."

"Because that means a dog has Light of the Soul. That makes sense. So, he's not an anomaly but he has an anomaly inside him, but since it's a Reality Class Anomaly that means we're fine to leave him? Am I guessing right?"

"You have the gist of it. A dog with aura is surprising but not unheard of. I suppose Coral just didn't think to test an animal like that. It's not like you can buy one in any given pet shop – they're usually reserved as service dogs for active or inactive huntsmen, due to the potential danger involved, or the risk of neglect. Ruby's father qualified."

If they made to contain Zwei then they'd need to contain every human with Light of the Soul as well, which might as well be all of them. He was a weird dog, overly formal and more than a little horny, but she supposed he wasn't all that bad. He'd helped out in the case as well. "You know," said Blake. "You should take Ruby back."

"That's a random point to make. Why?"

"Because she was a ray of sunshine around here."

Jaune eyed her oddly. "Okay…" He looked down at his paperwork, then back up at her. Blake smiled back, eyebrow raised, wondering what it was she could help with. "Blake, can you do me a favour? It won't take long."

"I'm here to help! Blake Belladonna – best damn employee ever!"

"Can you check your underwear quickly?"

"Huh? Sure, I guess." Blake pulled her waistband out. "But why- ACK!"

A smiley face.

"IT'S GOT ME AGAIN!"

Rolling over the back of the sofa, Blake hid behind it as she shimmied out her trousers and then underwear, tossing one over the top before pulling the other back on. It felt drafty all of a sudden, but she stomped around the seat with a much more characteristic snarl. The morning was shit, the muffins hadn't lasted long enough, and she felt every one of her miserable years in the White Fang. The surly, cynical, irritated state of mind was much more recognisable, and she shuddered at the preppy version of herself she'd just been.

"Mind controlling underwear…" muttered Blake.

"I don't think it's mind control so much as an intense mood boosting effect, or even narcotic." Jaune used a pair of metal tongs to pick them up, which she was sort of glad about since they'd just been on her. He dropped them into a sealed case. "On the bright side, they don't seem to be able to get any further than your room. I'll move the case a room down tonight and we'll see if that keeps them from jumping."

"Didn't the girls at Beacon say it made them lucky?"

"There's a known phenomenon around some social medias called lucky girl syndrome. It's the idea that if you have a super positive outlook and force yourself to believe you're lucky, then good things will happen to you."

"Does that actually work?"

"As reality changing powers? No, of course not. But it could be that having a positive outlook makes you appreciate things more, or maybe opens you up to more opportunities, so it feels like you're experiencing more luck. Someone miserable all day is likely to feel less lucky just because they take less risks or don't get excited about what does happen. It's all psychological but that could be what's happening here. The underwear made them euphorically happy, and they felt more good things were happening because of their heightened mood."

"It sounds like some self-help thing."

"I think it kind of is that." He shrugged. "But if we're right then that means the anomaly should be mostly harmless. The worst that could happen is you pull a smile muscle. I don't think it would make you less intelligent, or more likely to trust a bad person. I'd suggest testing…" He watched her cross her arms. "Okay, I won't suggest testing. But let me know if you start feeling any side effects. Lingering traces of unrealistic joy, overpowering urges to put on underwear or longing for this particular pair-"

A knock came at the door.

Blake froze, as did Jaune, but Timothy did not. The spider skittered toward the door, only stopped by Blake jumping and wrapping her arms around its legs. It hissed more out of confusion than anger, and then excitement when Blake grabbed its feed bag. The Guardian Weaver skittered down to Jaune's bedroom after her as he moved to the door, nodding gratefully to her.

"Stay in here, Timothy," she told the anomaly, sprinkling some crickets on the floor by Jaune's bed. "Be a good boy. That's it. Oh, you've made a nest in Jaune's closet." It was, she thought, probably quite horrific, but it was hard to feel too much fear around him when she knew how affectionate he was. "That's cute. Is that your bed?" The spider hissed happily, hopped into it, turned around several times on the thick webbing and hunkered down. Blake scratched under his spiral molar-filled maw. "Good boy. Such a good boy!"

Backing up to the door and closing it, she returned to the main office, catching the tail-end of a conversation as she did. It was a woman inside, stood before Jaune's desk in an office uniform – a tight skirt reaching to above her knees, and a pale purple suit jacket with a white blouse beneath.

"-heard you deal with unusual circumstances," said the woman. "I was advised to come here by a friend who works on the Council. I wouldn't have otherwise. No offence, but ghost hunters is not the kind of industry I'm looking for."

Blake winced.

Jaune kept a straight face. "That's more of a hobby of ours. Our main business is as private investigators. You said you were advised by someone on the Council? We've done work for them in the past. They know our credentials. This is my assistant, Blake, by the way."

"Good day," said Blake, one hand raised. She still felt drafty down below but there was no fixing that now. "Please ignore the ghost hunting part – which is Jaune's hobby and not mine. We're professional investigators. We've been hired by Beacon as well, and just came back from our second job there yesterday."

The woman, who looked to be in her mid-thirties, smiled weakly. "Beacon, you say? Oh, were you the ones who caught that horrible abuser with his Semblance?" When they nodded, she looked even more relieved. "That's great. I read about that in the news. Well, if you can be trusted for that then I feel a lot better. It's my husband," she explained. "He's… well, he's not gone missing, but he's gone off the grid so to speak. I don't really know how to explain this."

"Start at the beginning," said Jaune. "And take a seat. Blake, can you make her some tea?"

They dickered about for a moment, and the woman took the time to collect her thoughts as she sat with a steaming cup in hand. Jaune sat behind his desk, and Blake on the sofa again, though she kept her feet off the table.

"My husband works as an architect," explained the woman. "He was on a job for a big private company to help revitalise an ailing holiday spot off the coast of Vale. San Valeo. It used to be a big tourist destination – more partying, drinking and gambling than a family-friendly place, but it's been down on its luck for a long time. The company my husband worked for wanted to give it a new lease of life, especially with the Vytal Festival coming. My husband was sent to scout the place and come up with some designs that would be costed later. Business as usual. He left for San Valeo two weeks ago and arrived after not half a day. He did call in to tell me he'd arrived safe and sound and was going to start working, but since then… well… things have gotten strange."

Jaune leaned forward, intrigued. "How so?"

"For one, he'd call me at the oddest hours, drunk out of his mind and – by the sounds of it – partying. I didn't mind," she said, wringing her hands. "If anything, I was glad he was having a little fun. But it kept happening, day after day, and he was supposed to return a whole week ago. He never even submitted the architectural plans and the company called me yesterday to say they were letting him go. Apparently, they can't even get in contact with him. Neither can I."

"He's gone missing, then?" asked Blake.

"No. He… He calls me every day. At least once, sometimes twice, but it's always on a payphone and he never answers my questions. It's like he's talking at me and not to me. He tells me things are great, that the architectural plans are almost complete and that San Valeo is going to be great, and he doesn't listen when I tell him he's been fired. He just… He just tells me he loves me, says he'll be back soon, and hangs up. Every day. Every time." Her face trembled. "It's like he's repeating the same conversation sometimes. Different words, just slightly, but always the same conversation overall. Things are going well, he's having fun, and he's coming back soon."

But he never did. Blake leaned back and tapped her knee. It could have just been a marriage breaking up and a man too afraid to come out and say it. There was also the possibility she was misrepresenting some of it, and that she just didn't want to accept what was going on. Then again, if the Council had sent her their way then they must have suspected themselves that something was going on. Jaune looked like he was committed either way, and she supposed it was better safe than sorry. The worst result was that they wasted their time looking for a man running away, but if they ignored this and it was an anomaly then it could become a serious problem when more tourists started coming.

"ARC Corp is prepared to take on the case for you," said Jaune. "I assume you want your husband found and returned safe, but also to understand what happened to him? We might be able to find something to exonerate him in the eyes of his employers."

"I don't care about that as long as he's safe and sound. But if you can, then I'll gladly pay more. I don't know if he's being drugged or if he's been kidnapped, or what, but I – we – have children here, and I can't just go to San Valeo myself and place them at risk. I went to the Council for advice, and they sent me to you."

"You did the right thing, ma'am. We will find your husband. I'll need some details if you don't mind. His name, defining features, images if you have them. I'll also need to know where he booked into and anything else you can provide."

Jaune stood and came around the desk, but he looked to her. "Blake, can you arrange transport for us to San Valeo, please? A hotel as well. Keep it flexible since we might be there a few days if this takes time. It might be a good idea to pack a suitcase as well."

/-/

San Valeo didn't have an airship which meant they had to go by boat. Being out on the open water brought back not-so-fond memories of the last anomaly at sea they'd met, but they stuck to the coast as the fishing vessel, who they were paying a premium to have the captain and crew bring them here, made its way to San Valeo.

"Most traditional forms of travel to San Valeo stopped a few years back," said the old captain. He was over sixty, but relatively normal by all accounts. He didn't talk like someone who spent all his days on the open ocean. Not like people she knew in Menagerie. "Used to be, back in my time, it was the place to be for kids. Eighteen to thirties, they used to call 'em. Holidays where you'd go drink, gamble, sleep around, and basically make a fool of yourselves. Enjoying the younger years."

He showed them an old photo and Blake whistled. The place looked like it was built mostly on a pier over the water itself, with rows of brightly lit buildings with neon signs. Neon depictions of cocktail glasses, food, and even outlines of women dancing were dotted here and there, along with words like "CASINO" and "CHEAP ROOMS". Nothing looked fancy, but then that was probably the point when you were young and didn't have that much money. The place in the photo was packed with people.

"What happened to it?" asked Jaune.

"Nothing, to be honest. No big attack or Grimm or huge scandal. It just withered away." The captain shrugged. "Maybe people weren't so interested in getting smashed anymore. Maybe attitudes in Vale got more open. There are plenty of clubs and the like in the city now, so they probably figured they didn't need to go to San Valeo. Investment dried up with the lack of customers, and it never really came back."

Nothing anomalous, then. She knew Jaune had been fishing for some event or change that might have driven people away. This wasn't a Mountain Glenn situation, then. It was something that had come after, and something that might not even be related to the current state of San Valeo. The anomaly might not be responsible for the economic collapse of the resort. It might be operating independently, and might just have lucked into a place where news travelled slowly.

Looking out over the prow of the ship, the San Valeo of today was a sad sight. It wasn't falling apart or anything, but that would have almost been better since it would have been an excuse. Instead, the place was just sort of neglected. The pier and the buildings from the photo remained, some with the same signs as had been in it however many years ago, but the lights weren't on and some windows were boarded up, and the pier itself had a green coating of moss, seaweed and barnacles up and down the struts. The beach beneath was dotted with trash, from plastic bags to bottles, cans and anything else washed up from the city. A miserable grey cloud hung over the whole place, giving it a downcast vibe.

"We'll be heading back after dropping you off," said the captain. "But you have my details. Give me a day's warning and we'll come pick you up. Days gone by; the boys would have clamoured to spend the night here." He sniffed now. "Not much interest in it now. Real shame."

They came down off the boat onto a wet and slippery pier where the wood creaked under their shoes. It was cold out, and the two of them trundled their small suitcases down over uneven wooden slats toward the main row of buildings. The only one with a sign still glowing read "Motel" and it was that they made their way toward. Despite the name, it was more of a hotel, and not all that bad of one. It was rundown, sure, but it had an open eating area through the front entrance, along with a bar that seemed to serve both for drinks and as the main kiosk and reception. There was no pool, but there was a half-broken piano up on a stage with a microphone, and a couple of people were seated at round tables smoking and talking.

"We have a reservation," Blake told the young man in a black waistcoat behind the counter. "It's under Arc."

"Um. Yes. Okay. Ah, here it is." The boy came back, looking honestly relieved to have found it. He slid a key across the table. "Mr and Mrs Arc." He didn't catch Blake's wince. "T-That'll be two hundred lien per night. There's breakfast included in that."

Jaune slid six hundred across the counter. "Three nights for now. We might extend if we have to. We're actually here looking for a certain someone. Damien Sprucewood. Have you heard of him? He ought to be a guest here."

"I-I'm not allowed to give out private details, sir."

"We're investigators from the city." The boy's face fell. "But he's not in any trouble and neither are you. We've been sent by his wife to make sure he's okay. He hasn't been responding to her calls and she's worried."

"I see." The boy looked nervous, but it was hard to tell if it was a guilty nervous or just anxiety in general. "I… I still don't think I'm allowed to look up his room or give you that, sirs. I'm very sorry. Um. You're welcome to wait and try to find him, though? I can't stop you there."

"Would you be able to provide him a message then?" asked Blake. "Maybe tell him about us when he next comes down to pay and ask if he wants to meet with us?"

The boy's face lit up. "Oh yes, ma'am. I could do that! As long as I'm not giving out anything I shouldn't. I can also deliver a message if you want me to. I'm sure that'd be okay."

Jaune scribbled one down and handed it over with a few extra lien for his trouble. The boy looked genuinely thrilled at it. This was obviously some part-time work of his, and she couldn't imagine he had much opportunity to earn a tip anymore. He probably should have up and left to Vale already for better work opportunities, but it was easy to say that when she didn't know his circumstances. Maybe he had family here. Or maybe he didn't see a way out. Places like this had the tendency to drag everyone down with them.

"Our best bet is to wait and see if this message pans out," said Jaune. "I told him he could meet with us over breakfast if he wants to hear from his wife. There are payphones over there," he nodded to a row of them by the entrance to the motel, probably once to hire taxis. "His wife said he calls her off one, so odds are it's those. We have his photo so we can keep an eye out and see if we get lucky tonight, but there's just as good a chance he goes out drinking and calls from somewhere else. There are a lot of bars around here."

"Do we know what projects he had from his work? That might help narrow down where he'd go in the days."

"No. His wife only knew he was working on them, not what buildings or landmarks he was specifically working on. We'd have needed a warrant to push for the employers to tell us as well, and I didn't think it worth the effort. We know he's staying here. We'll catch him sooner or later."

"And then what?"

"I'm not sure," admitted Jaune. "We'll have to see what's keeping him here. It might be the anomaly stopping him leaving, but it might be any one of a hundred other things as well. It might not even be him anymore. We're going in blind." His eyes darted down at the table, or through it, to her hips. "You might want to keep your weapon on you. Concealed."

Blake nodded. "It's already there."

"Good. We've no reason to think this'll get violent but… well… no reason to think it won't, either." He smiled faintly. "At least there haven't been any deaths, disappearances or the likes. Whatever this is, it's not preying on people."

"Small mercies," said Blake, smiling faintly. The boy from before came up a moment later with a notepad in hand, asking if they wanted any food or drink. Blake shot Jaune a look, and he shrugged and ordered. She did, too. "Seafood special. And I guess I'll have a cola."

The boy looked surprised, likely at the lack of alcohol. This was a place to come and get drunk after all. He shrugged and returned with their food after a short wait, and also with a message of his own. "I delivered your message to Mr Sprucewood's room. I'm afraid he wasn't in. I left it under the door, though. He should pick it up later."

"He's not missing, is he?" asked Jaune.

"What? No, sir. Not much of anywhere you could go missing around here. Nowadays there's only a couple of bars and stores left. I suppose you could fall in the drink, but you'd probably just wash back up on the shore. No one really goes on the beach nowadays anyway."

"It looked like a mess," said Blake.

"Yeah. I used to try and clean it with my ma, but we could never get rid of enough and more always came back. It's more than what two people can do. Mr Sprucewood told me he was here to bring life back to the town." He shrugged, as if he didn't hold much hope of it. "He's a nice man. Friendly sort, never causes trouble. He does like his drink, though."

"He gets drunk often?"

"Most nights. Oh, but he's never violent or a problem," said the boy. "Except when he needs a little help getting up the stairs. Most people do get drunk around here to be honest. There isn't much else to do."

"I guess we'll have a look around town tonight, then," said Jaune once the boy had gone. "Who knows, we might get lucky."

"It's worth a shot," said Blake. They had a photo of him so picking him out of a bar shouldn't be too difficult, and if this place was as quiet as the motel employee said then there shouldn't be that many people out. Half of San Valeo was closed down anyway.

And if it didn't work, well, they wouldn't be missing out on much.

/-/

The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead.

Blake's eyes were fixed on it, blinking owlishly as it completed one circle, then two, then three, then four. She wondered what it was that had her attention so firmly fixed upon it, until she noticed something black doing the circles with it. A bra.

"Wha-?"

Her throat tightened, cutting her off with a wince. Sore was an understatement; it felt like she'd swallowed sandpaper. Her body hurt, too, but in an odd way. Noticeably, her arms – the insides of her arms – felt tingly and horrible. Blake brought one up, idly noting it was bare, before she saw the ugly swelling and red marks along the inside of her bicep. It looked like someone had taken a hot piece of metal to her arms, burning them. It wasn't so awful as to require a hospital visit, but it was painful and ugly, and seeing it had the stinging pain hitting full force.

"W-What happened?" Her voice came out a rasp, low in tone even to her own ears. Her head was pounding and she sat up, groaning as the ratty sheets fell down to expose her bare chest. Not only hers. There was someone's back to her side. A muscular back that ended a the shoulders, as arms of molten black skin and lava carried onward.

Jaune.

Jaune in bed, beside her.

Shit.

Blake leapt from the bed and nearly tripped on the sheets. Her lack of balance didn't make it any better and she slammed to the floor with a painful hiss. A look back offered some small mercy in that she was wearing her trousers, though she'd kicked off her socks and shoes. The sheet came off as well to show Jaune in his, so they were both just topless. Bad, still, but not crossing any lines. What the hell happened? The last thing I remember was us agreeing to go out looking for… for that guy. Sprucewood. Whatever he's called.

She could not remember having found him, and she was fairly sure they hadn't. She also didn't remember drinking anything however, but it was punishingly obvious she was hungover. Her head was practically swimming, and the rest… well, he sure as hell didn't think she and Jaune would have slept in the same bed otherwise. And the bra on the ceiling fan. And Jaune's shit, she noted, draped on the floor with the buttons torn off.

Torn by her…? When? How? Why? Blake padded over on bare feet to grab her jacket and toss it over her bare upper body, buttoning it up the front for some modesty. Her arms hurt a little more as she did, and she gingerly touched them, tracing the burns. They were along both her left and right arm, but on the inside of her upper arms. They must have come from Jaune, but the only way she could imagine being burned like that would be if the two of them had embraced. If she'd wrapped her arms around him while he didn't have sleeves on then her inner arms would have been burned badly where they touched his shoulders.

In the mirror on the wall, her face looked sunken and sallow. Hungover. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips grimacing and her hair a complete mess. It was her neck which got her eyes twitching, however. There was a bruise up and down the left side of her neck, along with teeth marks. Human, thankfully, or not thankfully. It might have been less confusing to have been mauled by a wild animal.

"Ugh…" There was a groan from the bed. Jaune sat up, bare chest pale, arms crackling. They looked painful to even move, and she couldn't understand how having them touch her – and burn her – hadn't somehow snapped her out of her apparent drunken haze. Or maybe it had, and that was why they hadn't gone further. "What…?"

"I have good news and I have bad news," rasped Blake.

"Huh? Blake…?" His voice sounded as raw as she felt. His eyes struggled to fix on her. "What…? What are you-? Why are you dressed like that? Why is your bra-? I don't. Ugh." He clutched his forehead. "Argh. My head."

"The good news," said Blake, "Is that we didn't have sex."

Jaune groaned pitifully. "That's the good news? How awful is the bad news?"

"The bad news is that we've run afoul of an anomaly. Unless you can remember anything of what happened last night."

"Last night? We went looking for Sprucewood. There were bars, lots of bars, and we were going to check them out." He gripped and massaged his temples with his gloved hands. "I remember… I remember…"

Blake waited.

"I don't remember anything. Did we drink?"

"Apparently, yes, but I don't know why since we were on the job." Blake crossed her arms. "Plus, you know, neither of us are what you'd call avid drinkers. Unless you've been hiding your alcoholism from me. Very well, mind you."

"I don't drink. My arms and hands. Bad idea to not have my wits about me."

Because he burnt things. As he'd burnt her. Or she'd burnt herself. It took two to tango after all, and she very much doubted Jaune – without aura or training – could have forced himself upon her so easily. That and the fact it was looking increasingly like she'd savaged his clothes to get at him. That alone was unlike her. With the rest on top as well? The answer was obvious.

"The anomaly hit us while we were out at night."

"It… it must have." Jaune groaned again, as pathetic with a hangover as Adam had been when he caught the flu and acted like it was death incarnate. "Fuck, I… Did I do anything to you? Did we?"

"We're both mostly clothed. As for the rest… I don't know." Blake looked about idly. Scattered clothes, some empty bottles, a torn shirt, his jacket hanging half out the nearby window. "We must have had one hell of a party. Maybe we should ask around and see if anyone saw us coming back in. But first, if you don't mind, I'd like to get dressed."

/-/

They hadn't lost anything. That was a relief even if they hadn't brought much of value beyond their wallets and their scrolls, but either way nothing had been taken. It took them half an hour to shower and get dressed while awkwardly dodging around one another. Jaune didn't miss the love bite on her neck, and went bright red, but he did miss the grooves carved into his back from her nails. Blake choked up and neglected to mention it as he pulled a fresh shirt on. When he raised his old one, practically torn to shreds, she pretended to be busy with her scroll.

Downstairs, the same boy was working the kiosk. He looked hungover as well, half-draped over the counter, but he woke up a little as they came down and plastered on his best customer service smile. It was an admirable attempt given how tired he looked.

"G-Good morning." He bit back a yawn. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

"That's fine. Just to ask, did you see us come in last night?"

"Ahah. Yeah." He blushed and looked away idly. "You two were… uh… pretty noticeable. You came in singing and holding onto one another, and then you started making out against the wall over there." Blake's eyes threatened to bulge out. Jaune coughed embarrassedly. "And then you sang karaoke, ma'am. You were pretty good!"

"I did what!?"

"She did?" asked Jaune. "Do you have video?"

Blake punched his arm hard enough to make him cry out. "Ignore him. What happened next?"

"Well, you tried to drag him up to sing, but then he and you started making out again, and everyone was hooting and hollering. It looked like you were about to go at it right there on the piano." He chuckled awkwardly. The two of them listened in horror. "But then I shouted at you to take it to your room, and you both sort of oozed up the stairs without taking your mouths off one another. Look," he whispered, "I don't have a problem or anything, and you're free to do what you like, but could you maybe keep it to yourselves next time? I don't mean to be rude or anything."

"Ack. Kak. Bwah-?"

Blake struggled for words.

Jaune found his, tense and tight as they were. "We'll keep that in mind. We're sorry for any trouble we caused. I don't suppose we mentioned what bar we'd been at, did we? Or did we have any drinks when we arrived here?"

"Nothing, sir. I don't think I'd have served you any in the state you were in. No offence. And I didn't ask where you'd been. None of my business, sir." His eyes widened briefly. "Oh, but Mr Sprucewood got back to me, sir. He saw your message and told me this morning he'll be staying for breakfast. Said he'd be happy to meet with you if you come from Vale."

It might have been more cheerful news if Blake wasn't still trying to come to terms with the fact she and Jaune had done all that while under the influence of… not even drink by the sounds of it. This had to be an anomaly. There was no other explanation for the two of them – both fairly reasonable and focused people – getting utterly smashed on a job and then doing all that.

Nothing else made sense.

"That's… That's good…" Jaune sounded a little worried as well. With good reason. "Did he say what table he'd be at? I think we'd best have a talk with him sooner rather than later. Before he goes out drinking again." Jaune swallowed. "Or before we do…"

Blake felt the blood drain from her face.

Uh-oh. No, they didn't have sex, but the idea is they came close before Jaune's anomalous arms actually worked in his favour for once and prevented it. But something is up in San Valeo, and Jaune and Blake have been caught under its influence.

Next Chapter: 30th January

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