I was very much hoping to post this story in July for our faithful and fearless transcriber Ria, because Ria’s birthday is in July, but alas, it was not to be. Finding time to write has been tough recently, which is why I value your continued love and support for the show, even though it’s been ages since we’ve made any show.
Season six is still on its way, but in the meantime, why don’t we spend some time not with our characters, but with their players?
*
Em squinted at faer phone. “Teresa says she’ll be here in like, ten minutes.”
“That might as well be forever,” Alex groaned. He was already upside-down in his chair, which did not bode well for his focus for the rest of the game today, River thought.
“Gives me time to finish levelling up,” Cal muttered, scribbling on their character sheet.
“Why didn’t you do that before we started?” Michael asked.
“I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count,” Alex said.
River winced sympathetically. “Thesis?”
“Thesis,” Cal agreed, and rolled a d10. “River, can you verbally verify what number is on this die?”
River leaned over to look. “That’s a nine.”
“Eleven hit points for Yak,” Cal said gleefully, making a note.
“What are you up to now, a million?” Em joked.
Cal laughed. “More or less. How’s your twenty hit points looking?”
“Hey, I have at least twenty-five,” Em shot back, which made them all laugh. River felt relieved, even if Teresa was late. Playing the Lowlifes had been strange and combative in a way River had originally expected to be fun, but it was having some…side effects. Teresa was fairly good at keeping them all cool and on-task, but the tension still occasionally reared its head.
But it was fine! As long as they all held it together until Teresa got here, they’d all be fine.
“Hey, Alex, can I ask about something last session?” Michael said, looking over his notes. He kept meticulous (if poorly spelled) notes, but Alex’s memory for story beats was encyclopedic.
“Whatcha got?” Alex said, easing himself sideways so he could see Michael. River was impressed with his core strength, just supporting himself on his side on the chair. A sort of rotated plank. She suspected he was showing off.
“Well, Max said he was willing to expel Larkin from the party over his hemophobia,” Michael said.
River looked over sharply. Uh oh.
“Yeah?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “There a question in there?”
Michael moved his jaw back and forth, chewing on an answer, before saying, “Would you really do that?”
Not again…
“I, Alex, wouldn’t,” Alex pontificated, like a horizontal philosopher. “But Max’s whims are variable. They’re a narcissist. Who knows what they might do?”
“Okay,” Michael said, “but.”
Em suddenly stood up. “Hey, where are the snacks? In the kitchen?” Fae was already walking into the next room. “Michael, want to help me out?”
“Just a second,” Michael said, not breaking eye contact with Alex.
Well, it had been a valiant attempt. Michael and Em had been cautiously circling the idea of dating, which River was all for if it helped Em come out of faer shell and Michael chill out just a little bit. Evidently they were not quite dating yet.
Cal tried a different approach. “Alex, this is clearly important to Michael, so maybe glib isn’t the best—”
“Listen to this guy, telling me not to be glib,” Alex said, shifting upright in his chair and stretching. “Look, man, it’s a character choice. We all knew we’d be playing heels. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that I want to keep playing,” Michael said stiffly. “And I want to know why you, my friend, don’t seem to want me to.”
Alex put up his hands defensively. “Yo, dude. I want you to keep playing. It wasn’t me saying all those things, it was Max.”
Michael flexed his jaw and spoke, each word falling like a stone. “Max is fictional.”
“And therefore his wants and needs are too!” Alex blustered. “I was purely into the character. I was acting.”
“Is that right?” Michael said.
“If you think about it, I was doing some incredible work,” Alex went on. “Since it clearly made you feel things. That’s art, dude, we’re making art.”
Michael was going red. Very red. The extent to which he went red whenever he felt anything—anger, embarrassment, anything—was a bit of a joke between the other four of them. Michael was not in on this joke because bringing it up caused him to…well, turn red.
“Art?” he nearly growled, the coldness in his tone belying the shade of his face.
Christ, River hated conflict. Teresa handled conflict in the group because it didn’t scare her. But River was not brave.
She did, however, care very much about her friends, and she wasn’t entirely sure that Michael wouldn’t try to punch Alex out someday. Today, perhaps. So she would do what she must…
“Michael,” she said, too quietly.
“Is this what you call art, Alex?” Michael nearly growled.
“Michael!” River tried again, much too loud. Ah good, now everyone was looking at her. She swallowed and said, more quietly, “Can you maybe specify why this is bothering you?”
Michael gritted his teeth. He didn’t speak, but some of the redness started fade from his face. Alex, for once, shut up and waited.
“Look,” he said finally, and all the grit had gone out of his voice. “Alex…Max isn’t like you.”
“Jesus, I hope not,” Alex began, but stopped when Cal whacked his arm with the back of their hand.
“Let me finish the thought,” Michael scoffed. “But Larkin…Larkin is like me.”
Alex’s mouth became a tiny little o.
“So it feels like we’re rejecting you?” River provided.
Michael sighed, suddenly deflated. “This is stupid, I’m sorry. I’m…conflating fiction and reality and it’s stupid.”
“I didn’t realize it was that personal, dude,” Alex said. “It’s not stupid.”
Michael didn’t speak. Em, who had been standing in the doorway to the kitchen, hovered closer to him, ready.
Cal broke the silence first. “I don’t see how Larkin is like you, Michael. Like, yeah, there’s similarities, but Larkin keeps making choices that suck. You don’t.”
“Except maybe for trusting Rukes?” River suggested, because this was probably a good time for levity.
“Jury’s still out,” Alex cracked, and Cal laughed. Michael’s lip twitched into some facsimile of a smile.
“I think Larkin’s perfect,” River went on. “My best friend. My cool cheese. My winter soldier.”
Alex cackled. “That’s the worst misquote I’ve heard in a while.”
“As long as I’m someone’s cool cheese,” Michael muttered.
“Larkin is River’s cool cheese,” Cal posited, “but Michael is like, our friend. And that’s more important.”
Michael took a deep breath. “Sorry I lost my cool.”
“Since when do you have cool?” Em said finally, nudging him a little as fae sat down.
That softened him up; he snorted. River cheered silently for Em.
Before the silence could rot into awkwardness, Teresa blew into the room. “Hi, I’m here, sorry. What did I miss?”
“Not much,” Em assured her, going back to the kitchen to fetch those purported snacks.
“Not much? Michael nearly bit me!” Alex said, posing dramatically as if he was going to faint.
“I wouldn’t have bit you,” Michael scoffed.
“You probably deserved it,” Teresa said, rolling her eyes, frantically opening books and setting up her screen. “Okay. Where were we?”
“Bandits?” River provided.
“Halfway up the mountain, and it was getting colder,” Michael added, checking his notes.
“Finally leveled up,” Cal said, dropping their pencil in satisfaction. “Just in time.”
“Hey, when you said in the chat that you don’t think Larkin’s ever killed anyone, can we make that canonical?” Alex asked Michael. “I have a vision. But it will involve embarrassing Larkin really bad.”
Michael considered this carefully before nodding, slowly. “All right, sure.”
“Who wants snacks!” Em said, reappearing with faer arms full.
“I do,” Teresa said, holding out her hand just in time for Em to deposit two oreos into it. “Oh, hell yeah. Okay. Let’s play.”