"The gentle pressure on her shoulders, rocking her; the voice above whispering, "Belle, wake up!" were so familiar to her younger self that she screwed her eyes shut tight whined "I'll be up in a minute!"

She rolled over, now half awake, realising that she couldn't have heard that voice, because it had died twenty years ago. That meant she'd had a dream of him, which was both nice sad, because she hadn't had one in the last few years. It refreshed the sound of his voice, his presence she felt her breath hitch in a little sob.

A gust of wind blew past, carrying the smell of smoke with it, stopping her grief in its tracks. Acrid smoke. Shit, had she left the stove top on in the kitchen? She sat bolt upright, her head connecting hard with another head so that she both felt heard the 'bong' sound.

"Shit, fuck," she hissed, holding a hand to the sore spot, just as she heard someone else exclaim the very same thing. In that impossible voice.

She opened her eyes, all blurry from her welling tears of pain, to see someone on their arse opposite her, also frantically rubbing their head. Squeezing her eyes shut blotting them hard with her pyjama sleeve, she reopened them, pulling a long face to right her still watery vision.

Her vision clarified, the someone in front resolving into that of an older man. What was an older man doing in her bedroom? In pure fright, she scuttled backward, sand pouring into the crack of her arse as her pyjama bottoms rode down her legs. She looked down. Her bed was covered in sand. No, wait, where was her bed?

"Jesus your head hasn't gotten any softer, has it?" the old man was grumbling, crawling to his knees to stand up.

"Huh?"

She looked up at him. He was dressed in what looked like cotton leather shirts pants, looking like someone who'd been out in the willy wags way too long. His hair was salt pepper, unkempt, his face lined deeply by skin exposed to the sun for too many years without proper protection.

His grey, watery eyes were fixed on her, a mixture of disbelief absolute joy colouring them. Her mind suddenly skewed left, superimposing a younger version of this man over the top of what she was looking at.

"Dad?" her voice had gone high, shocked hurt wanting to believe, but unable to, because he'd died, he was dead, twenty years in the past now.

"Oh, my girl, I can't believe … I thought it was you I'd seen … it was!" he came lumbering over, falling to his knees by her, his hand hovering over her shoulder, as if too scared to touch her in case she disappeared.

She turned her head to view the leathery hand, the one she'd studied as a girl when she would just sit in his lap, committing it to memory. It was the same, bar age some new scars. She whipped her head back to confirm he was still there.

"Dad?" she tried again, her voice a touch firmer this time. Hang on a tick, if he were dead, she was with him now…

"Am I dead?" she shrieked, making him wince at her sudden shrillness.

"No you still have a voice too." He stuck a finger in his ear, wiggling it.

"Then what the fuck … where the fuck…you've been dead!" she screamed at him, suddenly surging to her knees, pushing him back by the shoulders. She absentmindedly hoiked her pyjamas up over her bare arse, but it only made the sand fall further down the pant leg toward her knee. She barely paid it any mind.

"I'm not dead, girl, I didn't die! That night, something appeared out on the waters, like a giant, spinning hole! Sucked the whole boat in. I ended up here I've been stuck here ever since!"

What he said barely registered. They'd held a funeral, she'd grieved, gone to counselling for years, had had to treat depression because of it now, what? It was all for nothing?

"You didn't try to get back?" she yelled, just angry right now. It wasn't sinking in that she currently wasn't in her bedroom, nor that her dead dad was back, or that they were currently surrounded by massive, broken debris burning meat on an otherwise idyllic beach.

"Of course I did. There was just nothing I could find here that could get me back."

He sounded sincerely sorry. And sad. She reached out to touch his cheek. The warmth laxity of his skin were real. She looked up into his eyes, eyes that he'd passed onto her. How often over the years had she wished for something exactly like this to happen? More times than she could count. Her emotions welled up, slapping away all thought, so that she suddenly wailed, hurling herself at him in a huge bearhug that he reciprocated just as enthusiastically.

His sure hold on her, his strength that she remembered him possessing, patting her on the back rhythmically spurred on a sobbing so deep she thought it'd never end.

But it did as soon as someone behind them cleared their throat, sending her whirling around in surprise.

"Ah, you survived." Her dad said to the newcomer, backlit by the sun so that Belle had to hold up a hand to shade her eyes just to make out the figure. "Good to see."

"I did. Sorry to break up your little reunion, but we should get moving out of here. We're in trouble, the sooner we can get help, the better."

It was a female, the accent somewhat reminiscent of posh English.

Belle's dad helped her to her feet. She didn't' let go of his arm, but was shocked to see now that they were outdoors somewhere. She hadn't left her little flat; had she been kidnapped….holy shit. Her gaze had swept the scene, her eyes showing her now what her brain didn't want to register.

Metal, flames, meat, electricity sparking from wires within the meat …. the girl in front of them, eyeing Belle in as politely a disdainful manner as possible. She was done up in some sort of rock n roll armour, shockingly familiar. But it was the giant tentacles strewn everywhere around them, above out into the water, that made her give out a single, loud snort of laughter before she clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Is she alright?" the girl asked, cocking her head at Belle's dad.

"She's fine; just in shock. She's, ah, come a long way."

Belle reached forward poked the girl in front of her, just to confirm her existence.

"Belle, you shouldn't poke other people," her dad chided her gently, reigning her back in. "She may have suffered a hit to the head," he apologized to the dark haired girl, who was now glaring at Belle.

"I suppose I can quickly heal her, if you'd allow?"

Her dad chuckled good naturedly.

"No need for that, she's fine. Honestly. Let's get moving."

"Dad?" she whispered when the girl in front had pulled ahead, looting actual dead bodies strewn about everywhere with not a care in the world about the ick associated with doing that.

"Yes, Belle?"

"Can you pinch me? Hard?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Cause I think I'm having an incredibly vivid dream."

He obliged, gently.

"No, harder, it's got to hurt!"

He sighed, pinching her nearly enough to draw blood.

"Ow, shit, not that hard!"

"You said hard – "

"I know what I said, jeez." She rubbed her arm while never taking her eyes off the young woman ahead.

"Dad?"

"What, Belle?"

"That girl … I know her name."

He looked down at her, still clutching his arm.

"Didn't we introduce ourselves?"

She shook her head.

"Nuh-uh."

"Then, how do you know it?"

"Remember all those computer games I used to play that you hated me wasting my time on?"

"Ohh yeah – I'd forgotten about those."

"Welll – this is one of those games" she whispered quickly.

"Sorry, I don't quite get you." He looked at her patiently but confused.

"Dad, I've been playing a computer game for the last few months. Mainly for the sexy parts, but it's cool otherwise."

"Belle!" he sounded absolutely scandalised.

"What? I'm 40, divorced, it's a healthy way to get some romance in. Anyways, this. Is. The. Game."

He turned over what she was trying to tell him, his logical brain turning it over over like a rubric's cube.

"How far along in the game did you get?" he asked slowly she knew he'd clicked onto her meaning. He'd always been one for thinking outside the box, solving puzzles dilemmas, being the wall she'd wailed to when she couldn't solve her own problems. It was incredibly liberating to be older now on the same wavelength as him.

"All the way. About four times I've completed it now, from different perspectives. I know who she is!"

He looked from her up to the girl who was now foraging plants for potions.

"Can we trust her?"

"For now we can."

"With our lives?"

"Yes. She needs us, well, you, more so, alive."

"How long for?"

"I'll let you know if we need to worry."

He nodded. Looked back down at her clothes.

"Unicorns? Still?" he grinned down at her. "But, we'll have to get you some gear you can actually survive in out here."

"Gus," Shadowheart called out. Belle guessed that they must have met on the ship before she awoke. Ugh, which meant she had a tadpole in her head, too. Her gorge rose as Shadowheat loped over, turned her head to puke on the sand. The cleric rose an eyebrow at Belle, ignored her continued to address her dad.

"There's more intellect devourers, just beyond there," she pointed around the rock beside them.

"Right. You stay behind, Belle. Shadowheart, follow me."

Belle waved them off, still hunched over with hands on knees, waiting to see if she'd puke again. She heard them dispatch the walking brains, then her dad reappeared to fetch her.

"You ok?" he asked, concerned, rubbing her back. She could have purred at the comfort that gesture conveyed.

"Is she going to be a liability?" Shadowheart came back round the corner, cool bitchiness in full effect.

"You've no idea just how valuable she's going to be." Her dad could give the coolest 'stand down bitch' vibes, his eyes going all slatey when in full dad protection mode.

Shadowheart held up her hands in defence, but didn't look convinced. They set out past the dead brains, Belle very much not looking at them as they walked by. She causally pointed out the Cartlidge chests the bodies she so wasn't going to touch because, gore blood more puking for her if she touched them.

"The crates just beyond the broken hull of the ship (which smelled strongly of ozone), actually contained some destitute clothing that she changed into behind a broken piece of hull. Halfway through undressing, she remembered just where they were. She turned slowly, her eyes tracing their way up the path to the top, where she could just make out another pod. Fuck. She knew the little murder hobo had seen her dad Shadowheart take the brains out, but was he still watching? Going red, she turned her back deliberately, wondering if she should just moon him while she was there half naked anyway.

Deciding to take the higher road, she quickly finished up. The elven shoes didn't quite fit, but they'd do for now until something better came along. She wasn't going to get rid of her pyjamas, they'd be great to change into for the night, so warm snuggly, so she bundled them up tucked them under her arm.

"Done?" her dad asked she nodded.

"Dad?" she didn't think she could say that enough right now.

"Hmm?"

"There's a survivor up there. I saw movement." That was for Shadowhearts benefit. She lowered her voice. "Don't go near him when he asks for help. Don't hurt him, he'll join the team. But just - be careful."

Her dad nodded again, patting her arm.

She followed the other two, already regretting the shoes as she could feel them pinch her toes. The other two pulled ahead, so she stopped to take them off hobble up to the top of the hill. The conversation was already taking place. Neither her dad nor Shadowheart went anywhere near the pale elf, instead standing there with their arms folded.

"That's not an intellect devourer, friend, but a wild boar." Her father was pointing out.

The pale elves eyes found hers as she joined the group. From here, they looked ruddy brown, so she guessed that's why he could get away with one of the signs of his affliction, for now. But a momentary smirk caught the side of his mouth at her appearance before disappearing. Holy shit, the little shite had been watching! She should have gone with her gut instinct! She wanted to throw something at the pervert, but all she had were her pyjamas (not gonna happen) the elven shoes. Shoes it was. She threw them at him.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" he raised his voice, shielding himself. He needn't have worried, her aim was so poor the shoes had bubkis chance of hitting him.

"Sorry, you had some flies hanging round your head" she waved a hand around her own head to demonstrate while giving him a saccharine smile.

"Don't people just help these days?" he asked the air in general.

"Say, you were on the Nautoloid. I remember passing your pod. I would have stopped to help, but it looked like you were passed out. Glad to see you made it out alive."

God bless her dad his tact.

"Yes, well, I supp – " he stopped mid-sentence as he Shadowheart both writhed in pain as their parasites said hello. Her dad looked back at her, eyebrow raised in question.

"It's the parasites. They connect, showing images," she said quickly while the other two were affected. It looked painful, not something she would be looking forward to experiencing.

The connection broke, freeing the two of the bond.

"What in the nine hells was that?" the elf yelled, clutching at his forehead.

"That was disgusting. Let's hope to keep that under control in the future," Shadowheart was ice cold compared to Astarion's theatrical voice.

"At least now I know you were in the same position not in league with those beasts." said Astarion.

"We're not thralls, if that's what you meant. Look, we're all in the same boat here. We need to find a healer get these things out asap. We don't have long before it's too late, so we should all work together." said Gus.

Belle was impressed at her dad's knowledge of Mind Flayers. If only he'd been that interested in her interests years ago they could have spent more quality time together. She wondered where he'd picked it up from while here in the Forgotten Realms. Which was way too weird to think about, so she closed the door on that train of thought for now.

"Hmmm, I suppose… sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea. Alright. I accept. My name's Astarion. Lead on." he gave a little wave of his hand as if he were royalty.

"Pompous arse," Belle muttered under her breath as she passed him.

"That may be, dear, but I know yours at least is nicely rounded." He muttered right back at her as he passed her to go wander off in front.

She stopped in her tracks, mouth open. Not five minutes in he'd already seen her half naked. How in the hell did that happen? Was there a god of irony here who was now keeled over in Tashas' Hideous Laughter? Fuuuck, if her dad had heard him say that, there was no need of him finding out he was a vampire, cause he'd stake him just for having seen what he did.

Jumping when her dad called her over his shoulder, she continued to hobble after them as quickly as she could.

The goblins in the road didn't have much on them apart from some daggers that her dad handed to her, telling her to treat them like steak knives if anything were to get in close to her. She missed the subtle there gone flicker he gave Astarion as he said it. The healing potion he handed to Shadowheart.

"Thanks, but I can heal myself." She told him, stowing the potion anyway.

"Give it to someone who can use it then" her dad said. Shadowheart looked at Belle.

"No, she's like me. Won't work on her." He explained, much to her disbelief.

Belle cocked her head at him in question.

He dropped back to explain.

"If you're aware of the game, you're aware there's energy here they utilize & call magic." he said quietly.

She nodded, twirling her finger to hurry him up.

"That energy doesn't work on me. It somehow nullifies, disappears, whenever it comes near me. The healing potions work so quickly on others because of the magic used to combine the ingredients. Otherwise, it's like drinking a herbal tea."

Oh. Oh shit.

"No healing?" Oh, good lord, she wasn't going to last the next 48 hours. Hang on.

"No magic at all?" she gasped loudly, earning her more weirdo stares from the two natives.

"None. Sounds bad, but I've managed to survive for 20 years without it. In fact, comes downright in handy at times. You see – "

"What is wrong with that portal?" Shadowheart interrupted, pointing at the strobing purple neon light ahead of them.

Gus frowned.

"I have no idea, I've never seen one act like that before."

Belle, meanwhile, practically skipped over to it, giving Astarion stink eye as she passed him.

"Hello?" she called into it.

"Hello? Hi? A hand, anyone?" Gales voice echoed up out of the whirlpool as he stuck his own hand out, flapping it around wildly.

Belle considered it. Rubbed her chin deep in thought about it. Decided what the hell & did it.

The crack resounded loudly as she slapped his hand. The resulting sting made her hiss shake it vigorously.

"Ow, geez, I should have clarified & said a helping hand!" she chuckled as he shook his hand trying to clear the pain. Had she looked behind her then at the pale elf, she would have seen a little glimmer of approval in his eyes. But she didn't because he was currently on her shit list.

Gus came over to help, asking her permission with a quick look before gripping the proffered hand yanking the wizard out of the hole. Gale emerged with a popping sound, much like a cork from a wine bottle.

Belle watched the introductions, struck by how similar it was to the game. Her mind wanted to go down a rabbit hole and explore how why Earth should have a game detailing this particular set of events, but that opened up a whole can of worms she wasn't willing to explore right then. Because, if she did, she'd start wondering why she couldn't have ended up at Hogwarts fighting Voldemort instead of in the wilderness with a parasite in her brain. Shadowheart was right; she was a liability here.

She was brought back to the present when Gale grabbed her hand, pumping it enthusiastically. Aww, he was already nicer to have met than the other two.

Yes, she'd romanced Astarion, he was hot, what did people expect? But, in real life, she'd known straight away he was in the 'fuck not marry' pile. Even with his character progression he was a big ol' walking red flag. She'd never been interested in the other romances. Had tried Lae'zels, which was just as spicy as Astarions', but at least Lae'zel wasn't lusting after power left, right & centre. Still, she shouldn't even be thinking that right now. She blamed the situation, knowing what these people were packing under their clothes; her state of horniness from not having slept with anyone in nearly eight years.

Reigning in her wandering brain, she took off with the others, the path curving slightly around. Not far from where they'd pulled Gale free, voices raised in argument could be heard. Once more, Gus flicked Belle a 'should we check it out' look. She nodded imperceptibly which was as loud as a shout for him. He turned them off the trail, toward the argument.

She drew up the rear, just in case. There was no telling if these situations would actually escalate into a fight or not; no real dice here, no stopping for insight checks. Just what normal people did in any situation in day to day interactions. In all honesty, she really couldn't fight her way out of a wet paper bag.

Gus chatted amicably with the two tieflings, immediately putting them at ease. She had always admired that about him; she emulated it in her own client interactions within her own business, but could never pull it off as casually as him in social settings such as these. The thought of her business, how her employees were going to rock up to work tomorrow with no her there to run it, made her stomach clench in anxiety. She knew there was nothing she could do about it, but she wished there was.

The two tieflings brushed past her as she was wishing for a mobile phone, satellite coverage between spheres the ability to text in sick, when Lae'zels sibilant voice rang out, demanding to be let down.

Automatically, Belle called out.

"A simple please goes a long way."

Everyone turned and looked at her.

"What?" she shrugged. "Miss Manners count sometimes."

They glanced at each other, then back at Lae'zel. With his back turned to her, she missed the lip hook Astarion sported at the thought of telling the gith to watch her manners.

Gus Gale both managed to help Lae'zel down from the cage without simply opening the bottom of it dumping her arse out of it. Belle wandered over, nodding at the gith through the introductions. She liked Lae'zel, but the woman took work to warm up to anyone. They all did, which was fair, because, as of right now, they were all just a bunch of strangers thrown together by the weirdest of circumstances. Vowing to keep that front centre of her mind so her own bitchy judginess was somewhat contained, she motioned her dad to head down toward the ruins by the beach.

Herding them all seemed to come naturally to her dad. She could see him becoming the papa bear of them all. Maybe that burden could ease for him when Halsin (she tried not to drool mainly succeeded) joined them later. She was now kicking herself for not getting around to the bear in the woods scene. If she ever got back, she promised herself it would be one of the first things she did.

'Why not try the real thing?', her personal horny devil whispered from her shoulder.

'Because that's technically illegal,' she told it right back.

'Only on Earth … hehehe'

Kicking the sick motherfucker off her shoulder, she concentrated (again), on her surroundings.

"There's bandits in the ruins," she informed her dad. Quickly filling him in, it then struck her that she was fulfilling the role as the groups' Hermoine Granger. Fine with her, as maybe that meant they could skip some of those mind numbing side quests going on.

For instance, Mayrina had volunteered herself to Auntie Ethel, so would it matter if they just … left her there? Did they really need to uncover the secret Shadow Druid plot? She didn't think so. Plus, she knew the time constraints surrounding ceremorphoses had been suspended within the game, allowing encouraging world exploration, but did that in fact now apply to this situation? She'd been horrified to learn that the point of no return was a single hour, which they'd already well truly exceeded. No, for the sake of expediency, they needed to race through the acts like someone had lit a firecracker under their arses.

She had a feeling she shouldn't tell Gus about that, either. He'd always been a 'stop help your fellow man' type, whereas she'd been more the 'help thyself to help others.' This was a case of 'help thyself' if ever she'd come across it.

Gus talked the bandits out of attacking, citing monsters as the reason they should leave. Quickly.

While the others explored the area, she headed down to the locked door, rapping on it loudly clearing her throat.

"That you, Gimblebock?" a rough male voice asked through the door.

"Quick, Gimblebock triggered a trap, he's hurt, he needs help!" she said in her best panicky voice. Considering it immediately after, she felt it needed work, but it seemed to do the trick, as the idiot inside unlocked the door waited for them to enter.

She jumped a mile when Astarion murmured right beside her ear.

"Smooth work."

She whirled, punching him in the shoulder. And then pretended she just did not feel those muscles beneath his lightly padded armour.

"Don't fucking creep up on someone like that!" she breathily yelled at him & slunk off when he grinned at her.

"Doors open," she thumbed behind her when Gus came running at her squeaky yell. She sat down outside, knees drawn up while listening to the fight going on inside. Gus had explained her sitting out as she had no fighting experience. Which was the truth. But then he'd said 'none, nada, zip, zilch etc.' Way to go rubbing in how bloody completely useless she was. And for how long they were taking, they must be now also exploring those rooms inside. Without her.

"Fuck this shit," she muttered, grabbing up the small backpack she'd found, stuffing her pyjamas in strapping it to her back along with the (please god do not have any bedbugs inside it) bedroll.

Grabbing her daggers, she entered the doorway, which plunged her into immediate darkness. Closing the door behind her with a foot, she gave herself a minute to adjust to the near pitch black surrounding her. It might have been more than a minute. 40 year old eyes weren't as good as 20 year old eyes. Stepping forward, she slipped, only just catching herself before tumbling arse over head down the couple of stairs leading into the room beyond. Looking down, she saw a big, wet patch of black liquid. Only, in a certain light, it looked more red than black.

Oh, oh fuckin shit. Blood.

"Ewww" she whimpered, biting her lower lip in disgust.

Grabbing hold of the small banister, she eased her way down, sliding her bare feet over the crumbly stairs to try and clean them off. Her eyes fell on the dead bandit, who had a nice pair of boots on. At least he was at the bottom of the stairs, meaning she didn't have to wade back through the mess.

She squatted, picked up a dead heavy foot, then awkwardly measured it against her own. It seemed to be right, so she yanked it off, falling backwards as it slipped free. Not stopping, she peeled the other off too. Looking now at her feet, she ripped off some of the bandits shirt, cleaning off the gunk on her feet prayed to the god of hygiene that no fungal anything's lurked within the boots.

Slipping them on, they fit her feet pretty well but felt tight around her calves. Did they not have a standard clothing size system here? Standing, she stomped to get her feet settled, then, looking around the room, found a torch, lit it from one of the smoking candelabras set forth into the hopefully already cleared out dungeon.

Following the trail of dead bodies, she soon came across the would be saviours of Faerun, running around yelling at a bunch of skeletons. Skeletons had always been a bit of a question mark for her. Reanimated corpses. Yeah, right. They were nothing but bone held together with tendons that dried up over time. Remembering one of the Scary Movies she'd seen years previous, she really thought that the character, Brenda, had the right of it in not being scared of them.

She threw her torch at the closest one to her, gaining it's attention. She wasn't scared at all as it swung around to hiss at her, like a pissed off cat. It sprinted for her as she readied her daggers, it dropped suddenly less than two paces from her, as if it's invisible strings had been cut. Well. That was a bit of a let down. Damn thing shit its pants before she could even get to rearrange it. She looked up to see the others taking down the last one left standing.

"Belle!" Trust him to see her before anyone else. But it was nice to have someone on the constant lookout for you.

"Hey, this one was just cactus. What happened?" she kicked at the pile of bones before her.

"Oh, yeah, that happens with me, too," Gus replied. "I think it's to do with our being from Earth –"

"Oh, there's nothing at all ominous about the huge sarcophagus just sitting here, undisturbed" Astarion's voice drifted out from the concealed area behind Jergals statue.

"For fuck sake, don't leave him alone, he's probably already looted all the good stuff" Belle swept by Gus, rubbing her forehead.

Everyone crowded into the tiny room, reminding Belle of being squished into a little elevator. She just hoped no one farted. Gus Gale both did the honours of releasing Withers from his tomb, , wow, watching a desiccated corpse just float around was something else. She kept looking for the little wires that might have held him up. Withers addressed himself to Gus as if none of the rest of them existed. Still, when asked about the cost of a human life, she piped up.

"Tree-fiddy."

Why did everyone look at her every time she opened her mouth?

"Done."

Wait, what?

"Huh?" he seriously didn't' just accept that, did he?

"I shall meet you all at the appointed time …" he didn't even finish his sentence before just walking out the door. Just like that.

The raised eyebrows pointed in her direction caused her to pipe up.

"I just saved you all a shit tonne of gold, you should be thanking me!"

Everyone pretended Withers wasn't walking around muttering to himself as they just raided his lair. Gale found the accounting ledger of the gods, which just popped open when Gus went near it. She was beginning to understand what he'd meant to being a magic nullifier having it's perks. Her eyes slid to the dead skellies. Slid over to Withers. Her evil chipmunk brain wondered .. but no. Gus had been near him, he was still alive kicking… well, kicking… shuffling…an image presented itself of Withers needing a walking frame. Or a gopher.

Here was one last room to clear, the one with all the traps unnecessarily placed all together just to hammer home the tutorial.

"I think Astarion should have the honours of disarming those traps. He has such delicate looking fingers, great for such… dexterous work… " she battered her eyelashes at him, tossing him the trap disarm kit she'd found earlier.

He caught it, eyes flicking briefly to Gus before he replied.

"Oh, it's absolutely my … pleasure." He matched her tone.

Later, when he'd finished (it took ages, she didn't know trap disarming wasn't just a quick little minute thing its done, the game lied!), he made sure to swing by her when Gus was busy with the others chatting about setting up camp in the ruins for the night.

"I had no idea you had such an eye for detail. Let me enlighten you; trap disarming is not the only thing dextrous fingers get up to." And off he sauntered, as if he hadn't just said the filthiest thing she'd heard personally in years. Oooo, he was trouble! But that part of her, that evil little part that thrived on mischief, that cheeky part that had lain dormant for too long, used her lips to smile. Game on, motherfucker, it said.