"I am Maureen Cadivi and this is Catherine Waide, CEO of Centra Holdings who has contacted us here at AMF Streaming Productions to give her rebuttal to U.N. Representative Seong, who just earlier this month raised considerable support for a group convened to seize control of the VR technology from the corporate sector." Maureen turned in her chair and addressed Catherine, who was sitting on a couch in an orange business suit, legs elegantly folded. "Catherine? Could you please explain to our viewers who may not know what it is exactly people like Mr. Seong and his supporters fear?"
"Absolutely. Mr. Seong posits that the hardware used to induce our VR environment could be used for more nefarious purposes. Virtual waterboarding among a list of other preposterous fears." Catherine smiled. "I have to absolutely wonder if he raised the same fuss over the industrial size bathtubs that could fit a whole human head when it emerged last Fall. You could get that in seasonal colors even."
"Ah but Mr. Seong would, and has, said that VR equipment is almost solely under the patent of your company, and as such not everyone could have access to this 'bathtub' so to speak." Maureen smiled, obviously going through the motions being the devil's advocate. "That's like saying a 'great torture bathtub exclusively used by Centra Holdings' isn't it?"
"Yes. I suppose it is, but let's get away from bathtubs. I find it inappropriate to talk about a matter this seriously while using a harmless analogy. Though my lawyers are probably now wringing their hands in concern." Catherine chuckled. "It is true that our technology is unique. I should know as I was in direct supervision of the project and the advances. It is preposterous for a government, any government, to burst into the private sector and seize a piece of equipment that is used for gaming and recreation because they fear someone may subvert it to other uses."
Catherine took a sip of water and then continued, "what are they going to do with it I wonder? I should be more concerned that they are taking this technology and thinking of shaping it into a potential terror device. I am personally offended that someone is trying to take our technology, technology that has multiple uses that could and SHOULD be explored. Simulation for doctors, divers, obscure engineering in harsh environments, and the list goes on. That they should immediately try to seize it for military potential, well I find it insulting. If Mr. Seong wants the technology so he may train whatever terrorist faction, he can develop it himself." Catherine folded her hands neatly in her lap.
"But you even just said it's a potential terror device." Maureen pointed out, "don't you worry that more people will be concerned if even you say that?"
"Oh, people are always concerned. A pencil can be a potential terror device if a bomb is created to look like a pencil and slipped into school supplies. You are a potential terror device, Ms. Cavidi, in that you could report wrongly that there is a growing threat level and cause the people to panic, people who will look to their congressional and governmental leaders to act against a country, a person or persons, who never had any intention of attacking us."
"Haha. I can see your point I suppose, though as an aside I can assure the viewers that what Mrs. Waide describes wouldn't happen on my watch." Maureen chuckled nervously, and her eyes flickered offscreen to her left.
"I should think not. Recluse that I am I prize your reporting very highly, which is why I selected you for this broadcast," Catherine said, smoothing over feathers neatly.
"So you're saying you watch over your company like I watch over my reputation then?" Maureen had realized that trying to corner Catherine was going to be fruitless, and perhaps career suicide.
"Yes. Integrity is a founding value that has led us to where we are. The safe, virtual immersion that can even cause certain sleeping disorders to be less devastating in some clients. I am working with a series of hospitals right now and we are exploring the possibility of safe virtual sleep immersion for people with night terrors." Catherine leaned in conspiratorially. "See? My lawyers are chewing their sleeves. I wasn't supposed to tell you that."
The young reporter narrowed her eyes for a moment before laughing helplessly. Catherine Waide was so disarming that any hard questions she might have taken would only backfire. She had to try anyway because it was what her studio director wanted. "What about time dilation or contraction? Some wonder if you can use the gear to make time seem to go faster or slower and wonder what the implications of that would be."
Catherine shrugged. "Don't know. I am purposefully not throwing money at the idea."
"Purposefully?" Her jaw slackened for a moment, not sure what Catherine meant.
"It probably isn't impossible but it's not something we are researching. We brought it up but decided that it's too much like using people as research experiments. People and their happiness aren't something to be exploited; as my company will do everything in its power to create a safe environment that is normal enough to be integrated into everyday life. Time dilation or contraction is too problematic so we're staying away from it entirely. I wonder if Mr. Seong is interested in financing something so ludicrous at the cost of billions of dollars and years of research." For a moment it almost seemed like Catherine was going to sneer, but she just laughed lightly, head stretched back in a disarming way before returning to her normal position on the seat.
"Well, Catherine, again I thank you for joining us. As we discussed I have a number of questions for you that I'll post to our main page, and if you will allow it some of the viewer questions after the program will also be posted." Catherine nodded and Maureen continued. "Then I guess is there anything you would like to tell Mr. Seong, if he were listening now?"
"Two things. The first is my legal team is formidable and I do not foresee him managing to pass such an infringement to civil liberties let alone convincing me or my people to do anything but burn the building down while they march in, I should think it would take them trying to hold us at gunpoint to show any result. That is what it would take. If that should happen I personally invite you, Mazureen, to come to our main office building and see an old woman hurling filing cabinets down at the poor U.N. forces sent to take us over." Catherine smiled, and now Maureen was stifling giggles. It was, Amelia thought as she watched, a hilarious idea.
"The second is that you are very old Mr. Seong, and I expect by the time you win any legal battle with me it will be several years after your own death." Catherine said solemnly. "Do not infer that as a death threat; instead you may know that I mean it as a promise. While I, Catherine Waide am alive, enjoy your publicity but you will never steal the recreational equipment that we supply to millions for whatever perverted sense of right and wrong you may possess. I am very fit, and perfectly willing to be a fruit and nut eater if it means outliving you and seeing this farce fought down in every court of law you can thick-skin your face into. I know I only said two but I have thought of another. A good friend of mine recently said to another friend of mine, 'don't underestimate humans' and I bid you think of that carefully Mr. Seong."
"There you have it! Incredibly strong and straightforward, this is Catherine Waide with Maureen Cadivi, live on AMF. Mr. Seong could not be reached for comment. Good morning world!"
The scene faded to black and the stream ended.
"She is the coolest." Raven decided.
"Too strong. She's overpowered." Forsythe looked uncomfortable. "I should have been nicer to her."
"I got my words stolen!" Aidan was baffled. "How much do you think those words are worth?"
"Hey, she said we're her friends!" Amelia laughed. They were all sitting in her apartment around her light curtain, the day's dungeon spelunking had ended. They hadn't cleared the second floor, as it was amazingly large. Aidan had told Amelia he was beginning to think that it was an underground re-creation of the city streets, and if that were true it would take another day at least to traverse it. Forsythe had already cleared his floor, and when Amelia tried to press him for details all he would say was that it was wet and it sucked. The sucking, he continued to impart on her, came from shifting sand under the water. Amelia resigned herself to cornering Elisha at some point and hearing about it.
Raven was watching it again, and she uttered, "I want to be Catherine Waide when I grow up."
"When you grow up? How old are you?" Aidan asked.
"I'm only like 117," Raven said sweetly.
"We weren't sleeping a 100 years." Forsythe retorted.
"I'm only like 97." Raven tried again, continuing to fail at math.
"Or 80 years." Forsythe monotoned.
"I'm only like 99." Raven smiled sweetly, just making up numbers now.
"Alright, out." Amelia decided. "Go to your apartments or somewhere not here. I need to get some sleep and that's not going to happen with you tornadoes."
"Hurricane Raven." Raven tried it out, but she did get up. Aidan and Forsythe followed suit and before long Amelia was alone in her apartment. It was so quiet. So wonderful. Amelia didn't even bother to change out of her clothes, she just lay down and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again it was slightly before dawn, and her terminal tablet next to her bed was humming. It was a long extension, and Amelia vaguely recognized it but she didn't from where. She tapped the screen, turning her head flat and not opening her eyes. "Patrick flowers. You want to get re-arranged?"
"Oh get up Amelia." Her mother scolded her. "It has to be noon."
"Hello Margaret," Amelia muttered. She always called her mother Margaret when she wanted her mom to know Amelia thought she was nagging. "It's actually a little before 6. Between you and the other tornadoes I just may go insane."
"Oh, I got the time wrong. Well, how are you doing sweety? You had tornadoes?" Her mother didn't seem sorry at all. If anything she smoothly moved into daughter mom talk time. Or, as Amelia liked to think of it, mandatory family fun time.
"No. The weather has been good. How are you?" Amelia turned her head slightly, wondering if her mother would fly from wherever she was to beat on her door if she passed out in the middle of this conversation. No, it was more likely she would call the police and they would be beating on her door. Demanding proof of life.
"Your father and I just saw the Louvre! It was wonderful." The loove. Her pronunciation was atrocious.
"Oh did you go inside or just admire the building?" Amelia smirked.
"Don't be an idiot Amelia." Her mother scolded her without answering. "You know why I'm calling."
"I do?" Amelia actually had no idea.
"Your account received a deposit and the bank notified me." Still, no idea why this conversation was happening.
"That's nice." Amelia closed her eyes, starting to drift off and thinking about whatever deposit she got. She'd probably go get pancakes with the money.
"What are you doing? Are you selling drugs? Body parts? Who gets lump sums of money like that?" Her mother demanded.
Amelia's eyes opened. "What?"
"You didn't know you got a deposit for $10,000?" Her mother was really getting mad.
"Oh." Amelia was baffled, then it hit her even as full wakefulness came. "I got a job with Centra Holdings."
"The VR company? We just watched Catherine Waide! What are you doing for her in Illinois for $10,000?!" Her mother's voice probably couldn't get any more shrill.
"I'm streaming the game I play with friends. You know the one." Amelia yawned, and decided she must still be exhausted if even the exciting news of lots of money didn't pull her away from groggy. "They're getting a lot of advertising for their new campaign. I guess it's more than I thought it would be."
"Amelia it's a bi-monthly deposit." Her mother shrieked. "I better not find out you're lying. $20,000 a month to play a game? At least get a more believable lie."
"Would you prefer me to have Catherine Waide call you or for me to tell you that I'm a prostitute?" Amelia wondered, and she sighed. Her mother had actually just screamed at her over the phone, an inarticulate wordless shriek. She heard her father in the background demanding to know what was going on. "Catherine Waide then. She's a busy lady but I'll get her secretary or someone to send you something. Can I sleep now, mom? I have class…"
"No, you don't! It's a Sunday. Drugs! You're on drugs." She was crying now. "You can't even tell what day of the week it is…" There was a brief scuffle over the phone and the sound of her mother crying receded to the background.
"Amelia." Her father, Francis.
"Dad." He was a lot like Forsythe, she decided, smirking a little bit since she knew how this conversation was going to go.
"Drugs?" He asked.
"No." She answered.
"Okay. Let me talk to your mother. Love you." Dad hung up, and she started snickering despite herself. She loved her mother, but sometimes she absolutely adored her father.
"Oh. It is Sunday." Amelia put her face down into the pillow and was out like a light in seconds.
Her terminal hummed again around 7, and this time Amelia had had enough. The extension was unrecognizable, and whatever lame-o salesman had rung her at this ungodly hour after the other interruptions was going to die. "Patrick Tripod Repair. Do you need your head cleaned?" She demanded angrily toward the screen.
"Really now Amelia. I would think that with your paycheck you wouldn't have to open another line of career." Catherine Waide scolded her. "I just got finished talking to your parents. Lovely people."
"What? I...I wasn't. I didn't. How did you talk to them?" Amelia was shocked and immediately sorry that she had snapped so viciously before she had realized it was Catherine Waide.
"Your father is a very patient man. Was on hold for an hour trying to confirm the employee Amelia Patrick from Illinois. I have specific instructions for anyone asking about you, namely the press. I suspect you will not evade them forever. They are like cunning piranha." Catherine explained. "I took his call directly and spoke to him at a short length. Your mother too. I believe something must have happened and you should call them right away. She was quite hysterical."
Amelia was grinning. "That's just my mother, Mrs. Waide."
"Ah, I apologize then for getting the wrong idea. Though I would have called you today regardless to congratulate you." Catherine's tone took on one of mirth. It reminded her of Aidan when he told her something he thought was really funny but it was at her expense. "Congratulations on becoming a member of this month's AA Hall of Fame. 189."
"What?" Amelia froze. "Why?"
"Oh that Mr. Thompkins has done a brilliant job of marketing you. That spider, Syrxis?"
"Oh." Amelia felt herself whining. She started to think about quitting the game.
"Compiling your footage and adding Hunter's perspective on past videos was brilliantly done as well. I believe he was absolutely cackling the last time I heard him. Somewhat unseemly even. Evil laughter." Catherine's voice dulled somewhat. "Well, there are all kinds of men in the world."
"Goodbye, Catherine. I'm sleeping now." Amelia reached over and hung up while Catherine was protesting. Amelia fell asleep again.
When the door chimed half an hour later, Amelia really didn't know what to expect. If the President of the United States had been at her door she might not have been shocked. What she was though, was irked. It was early Sunday. Only evil men and women, the foulest of low, interrupted sleeping in on the weekends. As it turned out it was just Forsythe with eco-friendly grocery bags. He stepped passed silently and headed toward the kitchen, squeezing passed her in the doorway as if it was her fault for blocking his entry.
"You know since I'm not even amazed anymore, I think I'm a little worried about me." Amelia admitted to him after she followed him into the kitchen. "You people don't even faze me anymore. I just, accept it. That you're crazy, all of you, and there's nothing I can do."
"Mm-hmm." Was his only reply. He was cutting fresh onion on a board he had brought with him. "Do you want to help?"
"What are we making?" Amelia asked, giving up. She was so tired but now she would never get back to sleep.
"I have with me tortillas made fresh this morning, thin as possible given the cutting machine, from a small man named Gregario. He assures me they are just like his mother used to make." Forsythe paused in his knife work and looked at her. "I fear he was lying, but they really are very good."
"Yes." Amelia began spreading the tortillas.
"So what we will do, Amelia, is spread onion we chop fine across these tortillas and then add this very fine mild cheddar over them." He waved his knife as he talked, and dutifully she began spreading the onion and shredded mild cheddar.
"Yes," Amelia muttered, trying her best to make them uniformly spread. Giving up was easier sometimes.
"Don't be so concerned with exact portions. Those miscreants won't notice." Forsythe scolded her once. After that Amelia didn't bother so much with how much onion and cheese she put on.
"Next we will add finely chopped green and yellow pepper. Did you know that there is very little texture difference between them?" He asked, and when she shook her head he continued. "I believe however that there is a minute taste difference. It may be in the mind, but even if it is I feel we should seize it."
"Uh huh. How many of these am I making?" Amelia asked, beginning on the peppers.
"I should think 8. Raven eats more than the rest of us, but don't tell her I said that. She is conscious of her body. Thinks she's getting fat." Forsythe paused, looking up and shaking his head.
"Yeah. 8." Amelia continued making tortillas and preparing them. "What pray-tell goes in these?"
"We will add a very fine salt and fresh ground pepper in a light dusting, as well as some Cayenne to a few of them. Aidan likes spicy. You prefer sweet so for yours we will also add sour cream." Forsythe kept taking things out of his eco bag and handing them over, but only in the way he wanted them put on the food. While she was apparently okay to help he didn't trust her.
"Is there going to be any food in these?" Amelia wondered. "Also you say fine a lot."
"Oh yes. I have with me some baked beans that I will turn into a paste, and we'll spread them. Then I will cook bacon and ham chunks on your inadequate stove." He paused and sighed. "Fine, I'll endeavor not to."
"What's wrong with my stove?" Amelia demanded.
"Two burners Amelia? What are you going to cook other than hot water and sauce?" Forsythe clicked his tongue.
"Get the damn bean paste ready you son of a bitch." Amelia sputtered in mock anger.
"Yes, yes." He placated her immediately.
Despite herself, even as she added every ingredient, she felt her mouth starting to water. Her stomach told her that she didn't usually eat at this time, and her mouth told her she should.
Raven and Aidan arrived about the time the bacon was done, but shortly before the ham was ready. They sat at the couch in the living room talking amongst themselves. It was kind of irritating Amelia.
"They could help too," Amelia muttered as she chopped up bacon and started applying it to the tortillas.
"No. Raven once set fire to a fish and was surprised when it was awful," Forsythe told her.
"Aidan?" Amelia asked, intrigued.
"He once told me he'd just cook 'whatever' if it was him. The audacity." Forsythe looked peeved.
Amelia giggled helplessly at last. "You're like the ultimate housewife."
"Don't be absurd. I am the perfect housewife." Forsythe replied. There was no inflection to indicate he was kidding, but then he paused on his knife board from slicing the ham. "For cooking at least."
"Do we heat the tortillas in any way?" Amelia wanted to know.
"No, the heat from the bacon and the ham will heat up the cheese and other ingredients without spoiling their freshness." He said it in a way that made Amelia think he was exasperated with her.
"God I'm hungry now." Amelia muttered.
"Ah. Hope for you yet." Forsythe replied. "Breakfast!" He called out, just as Amelia was rolling the last one. "I hope you remember which ones were which." He made a face at Amelia.
"Who do you think I am?" Amelia replied, imitating him.
"That's what I like to hear." Forsythe gave her his tiny smile.
"Hey, Forsythe. Why did you follow Aidan?" Amelia suddenly asked him.
Forsythe was a big man. To say that he froze would be inappropriate. Instead, his body went rigid and his hands actually hesitated when depositing the tortillas, moments later he was saved by Aidan and Raven who entered the room. Loud and larger than life as usual. They demolished their wraps in under three minutes, and then had the audacity to complain about their not being orange juice or milk, or anything to drink really other than water.
"Water comprises much of the human body, stop dumping other liquids into it." Forsythe scolded them.
Raven and Aidan disappeared to the couch again, and Amelia distinctly heard him tell Raven as they left that he would show her how to edit spells in out-of-game mode. It seemed like an ideal time to resume her inquiry.
"Forsythe…" she began.
"Will you help me make lunch? I think that we can do it in a few minutes. I was thinking about sandwiches." He interrupted her.
"Yes." She replied dutifully. "What kind of sandwiches?"
"I have with me Monterrey cheddar bread, gluten-free, and I was thinking good Italian provolone with pepperoni as a base, salami as a middle, and maybe some of this honeyed turkey. Do you think we should add mustard?" He was really sweating the details, Amelia thought.
"How about salt and pepper and mayo?" She asked.
"Good god. I bet you get your steak well done and sauce it." Forsythe made a face at her. "Mustard."
"French mustard," Amelia argued, trying to take part in the conversation at least.
"Do you have french mustard? Dijon or spicy?" Forsythe demanded. Amelia admitted she didn't. "Then shut up."
"Mustard," Amelia muttered. She began arranging the Monterrey Cheddar bread and putting triangles of provolone on it. "Tomatoes?"
"Well thought." Forsythe brought fresh tomatoes out of his bag, apparently the last item in them, and began chopping them into thin slices. He handed them to Amelia when he was done.
"Cooler?" Amelia asked with trepidation. She was getting a little sick of being treated like an idiot.
"No, we will leave them out. Your apartment is cool, and if you cool tomatoes too much they become sour and, as Raven would say, gross." Forsythe stabbed each sandwich with a toothpick and added a green olive to the top.
Amelia was about to give up and go in the other room but Forsythe stopped her with a large hand on her shoulder. Looking back at him, she guessed, "what? Dessert?"
"I was dueling," Forsythe said.
"Dueling?" Amelia was confused.
"In the city of Cortyner, there was a school of swords that would go among the city and choose people to fight in a duel every week. If no volunteers emerged, they would select one at random." Forsythe said.
"A player city?" Amelia asked.
"Yes. Players were the only ones chosen. People died. We were in a place that wasn't easy to get to, and most had gone there because it was far away from the monster base that usually surrounds a town. The disadvantage was the player dueling event." Forsythe sat at the table in her kitchen.
"Why did people stay there if there was a dangerous event?" Amelia wanted to know.
"Food and lodging were free. In Last Sojourn, if your avatar lost too much satiation you starved to death. It was the same as starving to death in the real world to some degree, by which I mean you died." Forsythe leaned over and started putting the sandwiches in uniform lines.
"So. People went there because they were afraid to go out and earn money?" Amelia grimaced.
"People went there thinking that if they could just survive long enough, someone would rescue them," Forsythe said grimly. "When I arrived I was with a group that had decided to explore. We had already agreed that the death game was unbeatable, but we couldn't just sit in the starter city."
"Why did you stop?" Amelia asked.
"We stopped because people died on our journey. It seems like a good idea at first, going on an adventure. Especially when your life is on the line. You can stay where you are and despair, or you can move around and pretend you're a human being." Forsythe sighed and stopped messing with the sandwiches.
"So this dueling?" Amelia prompted.
"Every week, and sometimes twice a week once a month, a level 50 swordsman from a dueling school would challenge someone. My group had been there for about two weeks, and someone from my group was challenged. We had already seen the previous week when someone volunteered to fight the NPC. He was begging at the end. We never really thought he was going to lose though. He was so confident. A swordsman." Forsythe turned his head and began staring at a picture on her wall of her and her family. "I volunteered in his stead. I was a fighter, a warrior in that world. I didn't use a shield or a two-handed sword because I didn't know anything about swordsmanship or tanking. It was all new."
"You won." Amelia pointed out the obvious.
"No. Well, yes." Forsythe paused before explaining further. "My group member that was challenged refused me as a proxy. He died on the steps inches away from me."
"I'm sorry," Amelia whispered.
"In that game, when people died they broke up into small shards and disappeared. Not like in AA." Forsythe looked up. "Have you ever seen smoke dissipate? That was death in Last Sojourn, except instead of air it was small blocks of data."
"Then how..?" Amelia started, trying to figure out how to ask.
"How did I start dueling? I went to that school's base and watched them fight. For hours that week." Forsythe said. "A school is a discipline or a set pattern, and I thought I could learn it. When the next challenger walked out I immediately volunteered."
"You learned an NPC school's swordcraft in a week?" Amelia asked.
"No. In a month. That first fight I remember feeling like I could die any second. If that NPC had just been doing simple patterns I would have died within ten feet of their school." Forsythe shrugged. "He was showy and did the big attack moves. Moves that you remember because they have names. I cut him down with 6% health. Of course in that game the 'boss' NPC's respawned, and the NPC I had cut down respawned in the school. The next week I fought a different one. It took me down to 12% before I dispatched it."
"You fought them for weeks." Amelia guessed.
"I fought them for months." Forsythe retorted. "Then, this wizard comes into the town, he is trailed by this… a scrap of a girl."
"Raven." Amelia said.
"Yes. Her equipment is tattered. You can't break equipment in that game but you maintain it for vanity. You could tell her equipment had been beaten into the very earth." Forsythe showed Amelia his tiny smile. "This wizard watched the event and he came up to me and asked me my name."
"Forsythe!" Amelia said eagerly, guessing it had been a simple one-word reply.
"I didn't give it to him. He was just some idiot." Forsythe shook his head. "He was going to leave. It had been weeks since I had come to this town, and people greeted me by name and gave me food and were kind to me. I couldn't leave them but I wasn't one of them."
' "The next week, I was heading to the school. It was almost time. There were these two. The wizard and his scrap of a girl. The girl had just challenged the duelist." Forsythe's eyes dulled. "Can you imagine my anger? Imagine that there is this man, and he is letting a little girl fight. They don't understand. People die from this event."
"Raven beat the snot out of him I take it?" Amelia guessed.
"She beat him to a pulp," Forsythe affirmed. There was a certain amount of respect reflected in his voice rather than the usual deadpan.
"Then this wizard turns to me and he says… I can't tell you what he says. It's against the special rule. But I can tell you it was basically, 'will you follow me if I take care of this'?" Forsythe adjusted the plates on the table so they all lined up with one another.
Amelia remembered Raven and smiled. "So you said yes, because what could this idiot do?"
"Yes. What could he do? Of course, I would follow him if he finished in one day what I had been fighting for months." Forsythe sighed. "So he goes into the school and he demands to fight them all at once. He says if he wins they must relocate to the wilderness for a year to train themselves because surely they would need a year to get over the shame of losing to one wizard."
"He beat them all in the school?" Amelia was surprised. Aidan was always spectacular but never overpowered. The idea of him fighting them all and prevailing was surprising.
"No. After they agreed to the fight he ran into the streets. He ran and cast spells as fast as he could. He strung them out and figured out which were strong based on their speed and cast spells as fast as he could, picking them off. They died in the streets, one after another, even though it took hours he made it look effortless." Forsythe paused then. "I realized I had been wasting my time. I could have beat them all together. I was just thinking that it was a game and there was nothing I could do but what I was doing. It chained me to that place and started to eat me away like the towns I had already tried to escape. Aidan later told me that he had memorized the layout of the town because he thought I looked like a needed a hand." Forsythe paused again and looked at Amelia for the first time. "He laughed after they were beaten. Laughed, and smiled, and looked like he had had a good time. I followed him out of that town the next day, and here I am. I am not stupid Amelia or hurt as Aidan claims. But when I think about that day I am hurt, and I am stupid. Why didn't I think of that?" Forsythe wanted to know, tears formed in his eyes.
"Why are you crying, Forsythe?!" Aidan demanded as he entered the kitchen. "Amelia, Forsythe is actually very gentle, I know this even though I don't know much else about him since his whole life has been a lie." Aidan had picked up a wooden spoon and was starting to swing it in the air in front of her in a heroic defense of the crying man, but paused, seeing that Amelia was crying too. He swiftly turned the wooden spoon on Forsythe, crying, "Forsythe! It's never appropriate to retaliate if someone makes you cry!" He scolded, trying to figure out what they had done to each other to start crying.
"Ooh. Those sandwiches must be amazing. They snacked." Raven guessed, her fingers already reaching toward the plate. "Tears of joy."
"I don't want to eat sandwiches that make you cry," Aidan said sourly.
"I do! Look at their faces! I want to feel that much!" Raven was grinning.
"This is lunch you jerks." Amelia wiped the tears from her eyes and moved the plate away from Raven. "Look forward to it."