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It had been a pretty fun day, actually, but things felt weird when we got back to our room. Well, Triz felt - eh - seemed weird.

I thought it must be because of something Quinton might’ve said or done during the afternoon. But she said that, other than an off-handed, fake-casual question as to whether or not Triz and I were “poly,” he’d been fine. They had apparently been pretty engrossed with tech-talk of “refined intuitive branching” for their N-Cell’s “adaptive neural cyber-synapses” or something equally sci-fi word-soupy. And Nash was also, apparently, very distracted with talk of Djinni. Me! Triz said he seemed fairly obsessed with the “smokin’ hot” superheroine who’d saved his life and her (my) powers. That’s ... nice? I guess?

But, anyway, as I was getting ready for bed, Triz just seemed awkward for some reason. She said she was feeling restless and was going to wander the boat to wind down. Fine by me. Left to myself, I got comfy - the way only people who have no idea what craziness is coming their way can.

I had no way of knowing (‘til later) that somebody still clearly wanted Quinton Nash dead and had sent some fancy aqua-drone to do the job.

And I had no idea that Triz, distracted and curious, had wandered into the yacht’s engine room just as twin particle beams sliced through the hull like curling irons through cotton candy!

Description
It had been a pretty fun day, actually, but things felt weird when we got back to our room. Well, Triz felt - eh - seemed weird.

I thought it must be because of something Quinton might’ve said or done during the afternoon. But she said that, other than an off-handed, fake-casual question as to whether or not Triz and I were “poly,” he’d been fine. They had apparently been pretty engrossed with tech-talk of “refined intuitive branching” for their N-Cell’s “adaptive neural cyber-synapses” or something equally sci-fi word-soupy. And Nash was also, apparently, very distracted with talk of Djinni. Me! Triz said he seemed fairly obsessed with the “smokin’ hot” superheroine who’d saved his life and her (my) powers. That’s ... nice? I guess?

But, anyway, as I was getting ready for bed, Triz just seemed awkward for some reason. She said she was feeling restless and was going to wander the boat to wind down. Fine by me. Left to myself, I got comfy - the way only people who have no idea what craziness is coming their way can.

I had no way of knowing (‘til later) that somebody still clearly wanted Quinton Nash dead and had sent some fancy aqua-drone to do the job.

And I had no idea that Triz, distracted and curious, had wandered into the yacht’s engine room just as twin particle beams sliced through the hull like curling irons through cotton candy!