Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
SmittyKitty: Fuck. Delete that. I didn’t mean… It’s almost midnight. Long day. I don’t know what I’m saying.
SmittyKitty: Double fuck. Why doesn’t this game have a message delete function? Delete it from your brain, okay?
SmittyKitty: Anyway. I left your marmalade under your cheddar tree. So. Good night, Pip. Have fun storming the castle.
I laughed out loud at his awkwardness and found myself grinning goofily at my screen, thinking all sorts of warm and gushy friendship thoughts.
Everyone knew marmalade was the most potent of the Preserve Power-ups after the Apple Butter Booster. It was an objectively great gift to give any player, but to me, it was even more meaningful. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had given me something for no reason. Sometimes, players asked to barter, and more than one tried to loot, but I was pretty sure no one had voluntarily shared resources with me since last summer, a couple of weeks after I’d started playing the game, when I’d gotten my first Top 10 Ranking. Folks figured I didn’t need their help—and that was true. But I hadn’t realized just how isolating that had felt until… well, until now.
A moment later, I forced myself to keep scrolling through the remaining message notifications, and my warm feelings quickly evaporated. An hour after Smitty’s last message, Anomaly had messaged again.
Anomaly451: It’s after one in the morning, sweetie pie!! You are SO late!
Anomaly451: I guess you’re upset at me? Did you take something I said the wrong way again?
Anomaly451: I hate how you overreact and never give me the benefit of the doubt.
Anomaly451: I’ve tried every way I can think of to show you that I care. I keep offering to come and visit you, but you keep putting me off.
Anomaly451: Are we boyfriends, or not? Am I coming to visit you Friday, or not? Are we allies in the HOGCon tournament in Vegas, or not?
Anomaly451: Whatever. Some of us have jobs to get to in the morning. Bye.
I blew out a breath, kinda glad that I’d been deep into facial recognition scans when these messages had come through last night. Turned out you learned a lot about a person from the way they treated you when they were angry.
Hux, for example… his anger was bright and clean. Sure, his overprotectiveness and dismissiveness drove me up a tree, but at least he was never manipulative.
Meanwhile, the guy I was supposed to be dating hadn’t managed a single “Everything okay, Kev?” when I hadn’t shown up last night. Instead, he’d jumped straight to calling me overly sensitive and made himself a victim.
Was this just how relationships worked, where if one person made a mistake, the other person got a free pass to be a jerk about it? Because if so, I wasn’t a fan. I felt unsure and more anxious than I had all day, even when I’d been interacting with a dangerous cartel member.
Consequently, I wasn’t overly friendly as I opened a chat window and messaged back.
HogDocKev: Work emergency here last night. It’s resolved now. Sorry I didn’t have a chance to let you know.
HogDocKev: FYI, Smitty is a friend. Don’t harass him.
HogDocKev: I’m definitely not up for a visit this weekend, and I’m not sure about the rest of it.
I closed the chat with a decisive click and shook off my negative feelings. I strolled through my kumquat orchard to the cheddar tree and found a barrel of marmalade waiting for me, just as Smitty had promised.
I whistled as I rolled it to my recently rebuilt jam cellar, savoring the sweetness of having made a Horn of Glory friend—one who’d given me back a little of the pure, unadulterated happiness that had made me fall in love with the game in the first place.
I wanted to do something really nice for Smitty in return. Something bigger than fuzzy dice for his air speeder. Something more meaningful than the Harley equipment he didn’t seem to want. Something like…
Oh.
As soon as the idea occurred to me, I opened a chat window before I could talk myself out of it. I hugged Rodrigo to my chest in excitement, pushed up my glasses, and began typing.
HogDocKev: Hey, Smitty. I just decided that I’m going to HOGCon in person for the Conqueror’s Tournament.
HogDocKev: I know you said you can’t qualify for the tournament in Ascendant’s Class because of your ranking, and that sucks. FWIW, I sent HOG a strongly-worded email about changing their rules.
HogDocKev: But in the meantime, you’ll be automatically qualified if you agree to form an alliance with an already-qualified player… like, for example, ME.
HogDocKev: So, what do you say?
HogDocKev: There’s a 100k pip prize we can split.
HogDocKev: And I think it would be a lot of fun.
HogDocKev: And I really admire the way you play. I think I could learn a lot from you.