11

Deeter sat by himself on an orange sofa in a penthouse in Kwee City. He was feeling oddly alive. As much as he liked meeting people, he'd only been able to do so on rather shallow terms the past few months. He was enjoying this Professor and Timbella. Unfortunately he would have to leave them. He didn't think she was so attracted to him that she would follow him wherever he had to go, after all.

He hadn't been thinking of himself as a criminal, but of course that was what he was. He had abandoned his responsibilities for no reason other than sheer terror. The fear he had of Them was merely that they would bring him back home. Which was Their job, of course. His family had probably paid them well for the privilege.

Timbella came back and sat next to him. Her eyes were red. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She forced a smile. "Prof's setting it up?"

"I suppose." He looked into her eyes. They were brown, with green flecks. "You know, I don't really have to leave today."

She turned her head. "Yeah, but you have to leave. Oh, this is stupid. I don't even know why I give a shit."

He chuckled. "Well, that certainly makes me feel better. I was hoping it was my magnetic charisma, and willingness to let you lead me everywhere."

She smiled, still looking away. "I guess that helps, yeah. Are you really a diplomat?"

"Do I look like a diplomat?"

"You're too young, but it somehow wouldn't surprise me much."

"Assuming everything I've told you is more or less the truth, what would you say my story is?"

She turned back to him. "Spoiled rich kid from old money, overprotected to a fault, when you got out of school Daddy wanted you to work for him, and you refused and ran. Daddy had enough money to get serious bodyguard types after you. You really don't give off any criminal vibes at all, otherwise I'd say something more sinister happened." She tapped her lips. "Maybe you got your sister pregnant."

Deeter gaped at her, and she laughed. "Wow, I can't tell if that's the 'on the money' face or the 'how dare you' face."

He blinked, and recomposed himself. "The latter. I don't even have a sister. I don't think."

"Well OK. I just guessed that 'cos you seem too gormless to have hurt anyone. Unless that's all part of the charming psychopath act."

He rolled his eyes. "I'd tell you but I'd have to kill you. No, honestly you've got a pretty good handle on it, I suppose I let a bit more slip than I thought."

"You didn't let that much slip through. I still can't figure out what country you're from. I mean I could narrow it down 'cos you're white but brown hair doesn't help. But your accent is totally weird."

"What about you?"

"Me? I'm a spoiled rich kid too, but in that new money way. My dad grew up on a farm, first in his family to go to college, and he married his high school sweetheart after that. But she had some genetic disease and died before the first kid was born. Very sad. He married my mom about ten years later, I'm still not sure why. They really don't seem to like each other very much. I mean, I guess she was a trophy wife or whatever. Now she's too old for that role, so he does whatever the hell he wants. As a result of this, I'm completely insane."

"I had inferred that bit," he said, smiling at her.