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    She was totally ignoring it. Even when she slipped some thermals on under her basketball shorts. She was cold! Even when she snagged a late-night snack from the pantry. She was hungry! Even when she quietly crept through the door into the crisp night air. None of that meant she was paying any regard to that infantile note. Jean was just going for a walk. ...In the middle of the night. Times were stressful, okay?!
    She started to munch on one of the poppy seed muffins she’d brought. She had two. Two for her. She hadn’t grabbed it for anyone else. It was just in case she got hungry again. Jean’s feet mechanically took her to the street that had the gutter entrance to the drainage wash. It was in her neighbourhood for pity’s sake! Of course she was going to come across it on her walk! And, I mean, it’s not even close to 3 AM. 2:30, tops. It wouldn’t hurt to slip down there. As long as she wasn’t there at 3:00 she’d still be ignoring the insignificant instructions of that note from the sky. She’d still be avoiding whatever puzzle the universe wanted her to solve. Right? Right. She was just reliving some of the fun Nikko had introduced her to.
    Maybe it wasn’t even about the wash. Maybe they just wanted her in the shower at 3 AM? ...But that was unthinkably pervy and creepy. No, it had to be something she needed to see in the shower at 3:00. Why didn’t she think of that?!
    Jean went to turn on her heel and march straight home but, like always, the journalist had won power over her body and she had already unknowingly slipped down into the wash. Squinting her eyes against the bright light in such suffocating darkness, Jean went to swipe at the top of her phone to turn on the flashlight when she focused on three blocky numbers:
3:00
    Before the dread could even settle in her stomach, Jean glanced up from her phone to ch---
    A ghastly face grinned in the fluorescent light, casting their features in an bizarre grotesque way. Jean’s discarded phone and Jean herself were both caught before they could make any sound, the former grabbed and shoved into a pocket and the latter’s scream muffled by her attacker’s hand.
    They hissed into her ear, just making Jean shake harder, “SHH! They may be watching!”
    Jean was dragged back into the overgrowth farther along the wash, frozen with fear. She ragdolled in her attacker’s arms until the anger kicked in. Jean Janis Parker was not going out like this! Flailing with all four limbs, she scrabbled to find purchase on a knee or head or any of the many vines around her. However, any time she did, she was just yanked harder. Until finally…
    Yes! She was free! What-- What had she done? No time for that. There was something she had to do before running. Rearing back, she shot her fist forward until it met with resistance and drove it through until she heard a snap. Satisfied, she turned to run but whoever this was was fast. They were on her in a flash, tackling her down and pinning her arms down and fiercely whispering “STOP” in her face. Spittle flecked Jean’s cheeks and their stale breath filled her nostrils, only fueling the fight part of her fight or flight. However, they’d foregone restraining her legs, so she was able to slither one out from under them and jab her heel into their ribs with enough force to roll her attacker off.
    She should have run, but somehow she knew that, even if she could make it through the overgrowth, she wouldn’t get a chance to because they could just grab her ankle, making her slam her face into the pavement. And she didn’t want to risk blacking out. No, she...she had to make an advantage for herself. So she jumped on top of them, scratching at their face, then kneeing their stomach, then ripping off whatever overgrowth she could throw in their face, specifically their eyes. But her attacker knew what Jean was doing and shielded their face with one arm while the other darted toward their hip.
    Oh God, they were packing, weren’t they? But no...no that would be bulky and have either clattered out or alerted Jean to its presence already. So it was a knife. It had to be. Risky or not, Jean scrambled up to run deeper into the overgrowth, when suddenly there was blinding light. Jean could suddenly see. Everything. Well, that was kind of an overstatement and an understatement all at once. She was blinded by dull blue and when she shut her eyes the light was still there, turning her eyelids baby pink.
    Holding her hand out in front of her for guidance, Jean stumbled through the overgrowth, but blindly and clumsily enough that she snagged on several vines and her attacker was on her once again. Fingernails dug into her wrist and she was yanked to spin around.
    The next few minutes were tense and silent, both adjusting to the lighting as the light dimmed. The light from Jean’s phone. She felt so stupid now. And in the new light appeared a face, still ghastly by the shadowing but now familiar. Deep black sockets, upturned nose, no lips.
    Jean blinked. And blinked. And blinked a few more times for good measure. Rich anger bubbled up and overflowed into a primal yell. “YOU! You put that cryptic piece of crap on my roof. You ATTACKED me! You STOLE MY PHONE! You almost KILLED me, asshole! Why did you-- YOU! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” But everything after ‘cryptic’ was now muffled by this not-so-stranger’s hand, which Jean proceeded to bite.
    “Jean! Take a chill pill! God!” Every word was punctuated by a shake of Jean’s arms and a spray of bloody spittle. The more Jean’s eyes adjusted, the more blood she noticed on Nikko’s face. This didn’t make her sympathize. In fact, it just made her more angry because it confirmed he was her attacker. However, before she could tear into him again, he was whisper-yelling once more. “YOU broke my NOSE! And clawed my face. I mean, GOD, Jean. I wasn’t that scary! And lower your damn voice. They’re listening, you frickin’ IDIOT!” He panted, letting go of Jean for a second to paw at his dirt-and-blood-caked face.
    Jean used this second to her advantage and lunged forward to Vulcan-grip him, hoping it would work. Sadly, it didn’t and the nerd in Jean mourned. Never one to be perturbed, she screamed in his face instead. “You attacked me! What the hell did you expect me to do?! And… And YOU left that INANE note to meet you down here then ATTACK ME?!” She still had ahold of the weak spot between neck and shoulder and squeezed again for good measure.
    Nope. He was still not fazed. Crap! Nikko just scoffed. “What note? And you’re the one wandering down here in the middle of the night, being as LOUD as damn POSSIBLE! I was just telling you to be quiet and YOU attacked ME.”
    A growl erupted from Jean’s throat and she advanced on him, not a finger on Nikko but pushing him back verbally. “Don’t you DARE give me that! ‘Oh I was just telling you to be quiet. Jean is such a bully!’ Like HELL you were! Warn someone next time, will you?! Maybe then you won’t get your poor nose broken! Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t plant that note on my damn roof. Who else does crap like that, Nikko?!”
    She was cut off before she could even finish with an indignant “I...I DIDN’T, Jean!” And he advanced on her, too.
    They were face-to-face, panting with anger and indignation, fists clenching and unclenching in inactivity, for a few tense minutes. Jean didn’t answer his denial. She wouldn’t grace it with an answer. If she tried, it would be nothing but primal instincts. How dare he think her so stupid? He didn’t leave the note. Ha! Her head was pounding, like it always did around Nikko, but so hard this time it felt as if it were what was pumping boiling blood through her body, not her heart. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her mind and vision clear, otherwise she’d be blinded with and doubled-over in pain.
    Finally, Nikko cleared his throat and stepped back, suddenly timid. What had changed? He coughed and awkwardly shoved his hands in the pockets of the hoodie Jean suddenly noticed he had on. He was hiding something. “So…” he started off like they’d been in the middle of a casual conversation. “Do you…” insert forced cough “Do you happen to have the note with you?” He muttered it so offhandedly it was immediately suspicious. What was he hiding?
    “Um, no… It’s back at the house,” Jean answered before she could even think. Shit! If he thinks he’s coming back to my house…
    “Well then let’s go get it! I wanna see what this is all about.” But the second half of his statement was swallowed by Jean’s abrupt scream of “NO!” followed by Nikko slamming his hand over her mouth again. “Jean? SHUT UP! Good LORD!” he whisper-screeched in her ear.
    The burst of hot air in her ear made bile crawl up her throat. Her short stint of fight instinct hadn’t changed her inherent perception of him in the slightest. Why did her head pound whenever he was around? Why did he always churn her stomach? The journalist raged for answers again, but the “rational” part of Jean wanted nothing to do with Nikko ever again, his helping her be damned. So she compromised. Answers about this one event then she was gone. “Why?! Why do I have to shut up? Who’s this ‘they’ you keep talking about? Did ‘they’ send the note since YOU so obviously didn’t?”
    The last question was asked sarcastically, but it was the one he latched onto. “Probably…” he stated as if it were no big deal. Which most definitely meant it was.
    Jean waited for an answer to her other two questions but never got one. Nikko just handed her back her phone: they had both gotten used to the darkness by now. Her finger hovered over the power button. All she’d have to do is press 3 numbers and this could be over with. Forever. After a few moments of indecision, she shoved her Blackberry in her pocket, frustrated. The journalist just kept winning. “Who are ‘they?’ Is that why I have to be quiet?” she asked flatly, half-expecting to be ignored again.
    She kind of was. “Well, evidently they sent that message so getting you down here was part of a trap.”
    He was so obnoxious. He was so aloof and frustrating! Answer the damn question, will you? Jean, however, kept her cool and humoured him. “Okay, so why were you down here?”
    He evaded her immediately. “Next question.”
    “No.” Jean advanced on him again. “You half-assed my other questions. You’re gonna answer this one.” Nikko suddenly seemed to wilt and curl in on himself, which was refreshing. He was never uncomfortable. It also meant she was on the right track and needed to keep pushing.
    There went his jaw again. No lips. “Look,” he strained out, “I can’t tell you yet.” Jean fixed him with a look, which actually worked this time, to her surprise. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he licked his nonexistent lips, carefully considering before removing his hands from his hoodie and walking her back a few steps to be at arm's-length from him again. “There’s a sequence to these things, okay?”
    A SEQUENCE?! Who did he think he was?! Jean wasn’t tolerating this anymore. She went off. “NIKKO LEONID, I have put up with your bullshit for at least a month now! No, I will not wait! Damn your sequence. I want ANSWERS!” Somehow Jean managed to whisper-scream all this so she wasn’t interrupted again.
    “Okay! Okay…” Nikko tried to placate her to avoid another blow-out. That was...unusual. The answer to this question must be bad. But he cleared his throat and straightened his posture, which was a bad sign. Jean was losing the battle again. “Sequence,” he muttered firmly. Whether to himself or to them both, she didn’t know. “All right,” Hands were clapped together and the game face was on. The battle was lost. “We need someplace a bit more public. Somewhere I can keep a bead on everyone around us.” Nikko seemed to age 10 years as he thought. “Does-- did..Is that pizza place open 24/7?”
    “No,” Jean answered in a daze, trying to wrap her head around the changes. How was she gonna escape this? How was she gonna get her answers if she did, though? And now in public? And this elusive they… Granted, it gave her a bit of an advantage, plenty of people around and an easy escape, but she’d also be away from home. She had to make sure she stayed on solid ground instead of losing what little she’d gained.
    “Of course…” Nikko snapped multiple times like he thought it would help. “What about… How about IHOP? You like pancakes?”
    Nikko was talking in a whirlwind; Jean’s mind was a whirlwind. “I had a muffin…” she whispered, still in a daze. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Her mind kept working and working, seeking answers but never finding any suitable ones. The journalist was no help because all she wanted to do was frantically agree with whatever Nikko said so she could finally get her answers and that was scary. Daredevil Jean… Daredevil Jean was far too much like Nikko and he was trying to bring her out. And the part of Jean she considered rational just wanted to tuck tail and run like always. It was a no-win situation. The Nikko-ache pulsed louder and louder. That’s what she was calling them now: Nikko-aches, because in all the times she’d hurt herself, no pain was quite like the kind Nikko brought.
    Nikko was still talking. “Maybe Wal-mart. They’re 24/7, right? Or a gas station… No, too much movement. It’ll have to be IHOP.” And then he was dragging her off again.
    Jean thought back to the pizza place. She’d changed since then. He’d changed. And yet, here they were again, Jean being dragged off by Nikko and not doing a damn thing about it.

    To Jean’s pounding head, the sights, sounds, and smells of breakfast were more sickening than comforting. Everything blurred together, like that afternoon in the hall. Between Nikko and the regular noise level of a diner, all Jean’s senses went into overdrive and her head felt like it was going to explode. Thankfully, Nikko found a table near the middle of the diner and ordered for both of them all on his own. Jean would’ve never been able to handle that, what with her head trying to kill her.
    She sat there in a daze while Nikko took inventory of every person in the diner. He said he’d give her answers now, right? Jean needed to triage so she knew which answers she needed most, so she could take off right after. Thankfully, this IHOP wasn’t too far from her house: they’d walked there. So now that she had a quick escape, answers were the priority. Before she could start cleaning up her corkboard, Nikko interrupted her.
    “All right.” He clapped his hands, startling her into an upright position. “You’ll get your answers, but first you’ll get your food. It’s a surprise. Sequence.” And Nikko winked. That nymph-like gleam was back in his eyes. “But before all that, we’ve gotta get cleaned up. Can you imagine what a sight we are?”
    Jean took a look at Nikko: his ratty and matted hair, the blood coating the bottom half of his face, the dirt defining every line and pore above his collar, the overgrowth sticking to his clothes. She then tried to get a mental image of what that would look like on her. It wasn’t until Nikko’s face changed that Jean realized she was laughing. Real, honest-to-goodness laughter. All the tension from the past month and fear from tonight especially bubbled up out of her in uproarious, snorting peals of laughter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come this close to guffawing. In fact, she’d never guffawed. It felt wonderful to just sit here, hysterical and free. And when she looked at Nikko again, he was grinning from ear to ear, fiendish-looking what with the blood congealing all around his mouth. This sent her into more howls of laughter. What a sight they were indeed!

    They’d decided to go get cleaned up one at a time so the other could guard the table. Despite how bad he looked, Nikko had voted Jean go first. Feeling the sweat on her forehead and neck turning the dirt into a cakey substance, Jean had gratefully obliged.
    Now she was standing in front of the bathroom mirror and regretting it. She looked like she’d been dragged straight up from the pits of Hell. She had no idea what the heck had happened to her hair, but it looked as if she’d gone through a mudslide hurricane that had then deposited her into a vat of oil. Her skin resembled a blotchy fake tan. Jean couldn’t remember crawling out of a mafia grave in the desert, but it sure looked like she had. Okay, so how did she go about fixing this in a diner bathroom? Not one to be perturbed, Jean simply tore eye and nose holes in a paper towel, slathered it in soap, doused it in warm water, and smacked it on her face. She observed her creation hesitantly in the mirror. Well… she looked like a half-rate burglar, but it worked.
    Out of the few people that were also at the diner, only one person came in. While Jean was tentatively petting at her long tangled hair with a dripping paper towel, she suddenly heard a body slam into the swinging door. In trudged a teenager, quite obviously mid-road-trip, who looked like she’d seen some things. She regarded Jean, in the corner with her mask and paper towel mid-pet, and only spared a cursory glance. While Jean froze, the teen just slipped into a stall, unfazed. At her indifference, Jean figured, “Screw it!” and filled a sink full of water to dunk her hair in and start scrubbing.

    Fifteen minutes later, Jean walked out of the bathroom, mask-free and pseudo-clean. She felt a bit bad leaving Nikko there longer than planned, blood still congealing around his mouth. But he grinned when she turned the corner, still ghoulish-looking. As soon as Jean reached the table, he rose and gestured grandly. “Bon appetit!” On the table was a loaded plate. French toast, bacon, eggs, a side of pancakes… It was like they’d stuffed as much of breakfast as they could onto one plate. Then decided to throw in some pancakes as well. Despite what she’d said earlier, poppyseed muffins weren’t enough: Jean’s mouth was watering. She turned around to actually thank Nikko for once, but he was gone. How did he do that?

    Despite being more messed up than her, Nikko took way less time getting cleaned up than Jean. Nevertheless she was still almost finished scarfing down her meal when he got back to the table. He took another careful look around the diner, Jean slowing her shoveling to slyly watch him. She’d almost forgotten about this ‘they’ he was so worried about. Probably because she was still convinced it was him who sent the note and attacked her. And yet, since that liberating moment of laughter, it had been an out-of-body experience. She just couldn’t bring herself to hate or even fear him like before. There was still that sick feeling and the Nikko-ache, but beyond that…
    Jean busied herself studying his face. Now that the blood was gone, she could see what damage she’d caused. There was still blood clogging most of his pores, making the bottom half of his face a bit mottled with pink and rust. The worst part of it though was the scars along his jaw. They wrapped around the pudgy corner like one of those spaghetti bowls in the city. Somehow, they looked even worse than the mottled purple along the bridge of his nose. It didn’t look as crooked as before, but there was still something distinctly off about it. Jean had definitely broken his nose; yet, no matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find a shred of sympathy.
    All of that, however, kind of paled in comparison to one small detail. Dark lines layered under his eyes. More than usual. More than naturally. These weren’t a product of his deep sockets or the natural eyeliner he seemed to have. These were stress. These were insomnia. These were ever-present proof of this ‘they’ he kept warning about.
    Jean spared a look around herself for this omni-present ‘they,’ but since she had no idea what she was looking for, was unsuccessful.

    It took a long time to finish her food after that. She was lost in thought. Nikko nibbled away across from her, hungry but vigilant. All of this was getting far too muddled for Jean. She was supposed to feel a certain way about Nikko. She was supposed to be focusing on her future as a journalist. She was supposed to be Jean Janis freaking Parker, untouchable and unstoppable and so so so sure of herself. After this month, none of that made sense anymore. Lines had been crossed and there was no way to reconcile Jean Janis Parker with this new Jean, eating breakfast at an IHOP at 5AM with a boy she feared and hated and… No, she didn’t. Either one.
    THAT scared her.

    Plates were wiped clean with forks or fingers or bits of egg or pancakes. Drinks were chugged and coffee ordered. Two very different individuals stared each other down over steaming mugs.
    Back at home, Denny would be just making his own coffee and watching an obscure morning talk show before making sure Jean was up and at ‘em. But she could care less: answers were finally FINALLY infuriatingly close and she would pry them out with merciless precision. She eyed Nikko with as much cold calculation as she could muster. She was not his Jean; she was Jean Janis Parker, reporter on just another interview. She had all her questions planned, mentally shifting and stacking papers, licking her li--
    Nikko snickered. “How do you even start these things non-awkwardly? Just jump right in?” Then his voice took on a sarcastic tone. “Shall I state my name for the record? Got a tape recorder we can use?”
    Jean did in fact have a tape recorder but 1) she didn’t have it with her, and 2) even if she did, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of pulling it out now. So she just sat there patiently, resolutely distant. Just an interview.
    Nikko made a show of clearing his throat and straightening his stained clothes. “I’ll just jump right in, then,” he replied to Jean’s silence. “It was a dark and stormy night… OoooOooooh!” Nikko waggled his fingers eerily and alternated between storm sounds and his impression of a ghost. Jean’s stoic look deflated him after a few seconds, though. “Tough crowd,” he muttered, and attempted to match Jean’s level of sobriety. “As I recall, it was the middle of a school day. The year was 2010. Everything was going about normally. My bubble was intact and life uninterrupted. When suddenly!” BAM! Nikko slapped the table with far too much force, rattling coffee mugs and almost tipping the salt shaker. The huge ketchup bottle wobbled clumsily, then pitifully keeled over. Nikko continued, undeterred. “A girl! She notices! Shies away! This has never happened before! This isn’t supposed to happen.” Nikko pauses his dramatic dialogue to quickly insert, “We’ll get to that later.” Jean makes a mental note, underlined and bolded, to make doubly sure they get to that later, then determinedly jams it into the corkboard. “This isn’t an isolated event, though. She’s scared.” So he did know. He had known the whole time. Jean almost misses his next words, trying to school her face into something cold rather than shock. “So I did a few tests. I forced myself into her bubble like she had mine. I made doubly sure she really did notice me and really was afraid of me. Over years, I tested and tested until I was 100% sure it was me. And then I moved to the next level.” Nikko settled back into his chair like he’d finally reached his point. “I stared her down like she did me. I vanished when she wasn’t looking.” His gaze hardened as realization slowly dawned on Jean. “I talked to her…”
    A test. It was all just a test. Nikko was a sociopath who’d just let her loose in a maze as if she were a lab rat. HOW DARE-- An interview. This was all impersonal. He wasn’t talking about her. He’d never said it was her, so it could be anyone.
    Nikko had continued whilst Jean was pulling herself together. “--insert myself into her life as much as possible without changing too much. I think she’s better for it. Why’s this all so important?” His tone lost that narrative edge and turned personal. Nikko leaned far too much into Jean’s personal space and locked probing eyes on hers. There was a beat of silence, hot coffee-stained breath wafting from each of them: Jean starting to panic and Nikko schooling his exhales. Finally, he whispered, “You’re not supposed to see me.”
    He didn’t pull back to watch her reaction. Jean didn’t immediately catch on. Nikko just waited there, face inches from hers. She just patted her pockets for her wallet because that was the polite thing to do and their waiter had been nothing but courteous. This she could do. This she could focus on. After a few seconds’ searching, she realized she was in thermals and basketball shorts; she had left the house in the middle of the night; she didn’t have her wallet. Jean just sat back, defeated. She didn’t have any food to finish and her coffee was probably cold and just dregs by now. She had no tip to leave. There was nothing to distract her from what was just posed. And there was no way she was even dignifying it with an answer. No way. She wasn’t playing--
    “So what…? You’re some kind of woodland fairy?” Jean deadpanned, half-expecting him to answer ‘yes’ after all this.
    He chuckled. He freaking chuckled! “Well, not particularly, but--”
    SCREW Nikko. SCREW all of this. She’d come here for answers, not delusions of grandeur or all the bullshit Nikko was shoveling. Jean had reached her bullshit quota for the year. She was going home and getting this monster the hell out of her life.
    She rose from the table, jolting it, finally knocking that salt shaker over. If she’d been in her right mind, Jean might have appreciated the irony in that, but she was too busy seeing red. Nikko was already sputtering and rising to go after her, but he needed to seriously STEP OFF if he wanted to live. She marched resolutely out the door, Nikko still chasing after her.
    “Come ON, Jean! You can’t tell me it doesn’t make any sense!” Jean rolled her eyes and moved faster, hoping to shake him, but it was no use. “Your head doesn’t throb around me? You don’t get that itching feeling that something is very wrong? That it’s me?” His words made a chill crackle down her spine. Of course he knew how he affected her. However, his next words stopped her in her tracks. “You can’t act like you haven’t seen things. Weird things. Flickers.”
    How did he know? How could he possibly know? Jean had tried to deny it, but yesterday had not been the first time she’d seen a flicker like that.
    “Heard things no one else hears. Noticed things no one else seems to. Your eyes have been opened, Jean. That’s why they want you.”
    He knew. He knew everything. Nikko had read Jean like a book from the very beginning. She’d thought he’d just been an irrational fear, some challenge she needed to endure to be a true reporter. But he knew everything she’d experienced since they “met.” How much more did he know?
    Involuntarily, Jean surged toward him. Collar in her hands, she drug him to the nearest dark spot and shoved him against the side of a building. “TALK.”

    Nikko had led her to an alley between two stores he deemed “safe,” although he still kept an eye out for that they he kept referring to. Jean stalked about, fuming. The anger was just so palpable now, far too palpable and far too powerful. She’d never been this angry; she’d always been able to control it before. But now… Every look at Nikko spiked her fury just as it spiked the Nikko-ache. Everything was falling apart and he hadn’t even begun to tell her the truth.
    He was babbling now. “I wanted to tell you, Jean. I wanted to tell you everything. Just… Just not like this. I had a plan and everything. It just all… Sequence. Damn sequence.” He made like to throw something but had nothing in his hands. “Just tell me you’ll believe me. Jean, you have to believe me, above all else. It’s so very important you believe me. Please be--”
    That was IT! “About what, Nikko? You’ve told me nothing but that I’m some lab rat to you, a fairytale creature. I’m supposed to freaking believe that?! What are you trying to tell me?” Jean backed him into a wall. “What?” Hands slammed against shoulders. “What?”
    This wasn’t right. None of this was right. They weren’t supposed to be here. Nikko wasn’t supposed to be telling her this. Jean wasn’t supposed to be so angry. Or hands on. Once again, it felt wrong and sick to touch him. To acknowledge him. To deny him. The Nikko-ache faded, but at what cost? That not-right feeling had been slowly wading through her subconscious this entire morning, but now it belly-flopped. Quickly, Jean released Nikko and staggered to the left just enough to release a boiling torrent of partially-digested breakfast. It missed their clothes, but splashed onto and over pants and shoes. The sight made her dry-heave.
    Calmly, Nikko stepped from the wall and got Jean’s attention, careful not to touch her again. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’ve felt that before. Not-right and just a hint of not-there. Jean, you see. That’s why.”
    “Flickers?” Jean choked out between spitting. She was done denying. All she could do was play along.
    “Flickers,” Nikko echoed flatly. He was so calm about all of this. How was he so calm? “I figured this would happen.” He rifled around in his pockets. “I brought napkins,” Nikko explained, holding out a stack of five.
    Jean greedily snatched them from him and furiously mopped at her face and what she could of her pants. She glanced at Nikko’s, but thought better of touching him again.
    Without meeting his eyes, Jean passed him two unused napkins. He thanked her nonverbally by being sure not to touch her.
    When all was said and done, they both dropped their napkins unceremoniously and sank to the filthy ground. Nikko’s tired eyes glanced the direction of Jean’s neighbourhood, then back to her. “Red pill or blue pill?”
    Jean laughed. It was the polar opposite of her earlier, world-shattering laugh. This one was dry and dark, no mirth in it. “Red pill.”

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

    She was totally ignoring it. Even when she slipped some thermals on under her basketball shorts. She was cold! Even when she snagged a late-night snack from the pantry. She was hungry! Even when she quietly crept through the door into the crisp night air. None of that meant she was paying any regard to that infantile note. Jean was just going for a walk. ...In the middle of the night. Times were stressful, okay?!
    She started to munch on one of the poppy seed muffins she’d brought. She had two. Two for her. She hadn’t grabbed it for anyone else. It was just in case she got hungry again. Jean’s feet mechanically took her to the street that had the gutter entrance to the drainage wash. It was in her neighbourhood for pity’s sake! Of course she was going to come across it on her walk! And, I mean, it’s not even close to 3 AM. 2:30, tops. It wouldn’t hurt to slip down there. As long as she wasn’t there at 3:00 she’d still be ignoring the insignificant instructions of that note from the sky. She’d still be avoiding whatever puzzle the universe wanted her to solve. Right? Right. She was just reliving some of the fun Nikko had introduced her to.
    Maybe it wasn’t even about the wash. Maybe they just wanted her in the shower at 3 AM? ...But that was unthinkably pervy and creepy. No, it had to be something she needed to see in the shower at 3:00. Why didn’t she think of that?!
    Jean went to turn on her heel and march straight home but, like always, the journalist had won power over her body and she had already unknowingly slipped down into the wash. Squinting her eyes against the bright light in such suffocating darkness, Jean went to swipe at the top of her phone to turn on the flashlight when she focused on three blocky numbers:
3:00
    Before the dread could even settle in her stomach, Jean glanced up from her phone to ch---
    A ghastly face grinned in the fluorescent light, casting their features in an bizarre grotesque way. Jean’s discarded phone and Jean herself were both caught before they could make any sound, the former grabbed and shoved into a pocket and the latter’s scream muffled by her attacker’s hand.
    They hissed into her ear, just making Jean shake harder, “SHH! They may be watching!”
    Jean was dragged back into the overgrowth farther along the wash, frozen with fear. She ragdolled in her attacker’s arms until the anger kicked in. Jean Janis Parker was not going out like this! Flailing with all four limbs, she scrabbled to find purchase on a knee or head or any of the many vines around her. However, any time she did, she was just yanked harder. Until finally…
    Yes! She was free! What-- What had she done? No time for that. There was something she had to do before running. Rearing back, she shot her fist forward until it met with resistance and drove it through until she heard a snap. Satisfied, she turned to run but whoever this was was fast. They were on her in a flash, tackling her down and pinning her arms down and fiercely whispering “STOP” in her face. Spittle flecked Jean’s cheeks and their stale breath filled her nostrils, only fueling the fight part of her fight or flight. However, they’d foregone restraining her legs, so she was able to slither one out from under them and jab her heel into their ribs with enough force to roll her attacker off.
    She should have run, but somehow she knew that, even if she could make it through the overgrowth, she wouldn’t get a chance to because they could just grab her ankle, making her slam her face into the pavement. And she didn’t want to risk blacking out. No, she...she had to make an advantage for herself. So she jumped on top of them, scratching at their face, then kneeing their stomach, then ripping off whatever overgrowth she could throw in their face, specifically their eyes. But her attacker knew what Jean was doing and shielded their face with one arm while the other darted toward their hip.
    Oh God, they were packing, weren’t they? But no...no that would be bulky and have either clattered out or alerted Jean to its presence already. So it was a knife. It had to be. Risky or not, Jean scrambled up to run deeper into the overgrowth, when suddenly there was blinding light. Jean could suddenly see. Everything. Well, that was kind of an overstatement and an understatement all at once. She was blinded by dull blue and when she shut her eyes the light was still there, turning her eyelids baby pink.
    Holding her hand out in front of her for guidance, Jean stumbled through the overgrowth, but blindly and clumsily enough that she snagged on several vines and her attacker was on her once again. Fingernails dug into her wrist and she was yanked to spin around.
    The next few minutes were tense and silent, both adjusting to the lighting as the light dimmed. The light from Jean’s phone. She felt so stupid now. And in the new light appeared a face, still ghastly by the shadowing but now familiar. Deep black sockets, upturned nose, no lips.
    Jean blinked. And blinked. And blinked a few more times for good measure. Rich anger bubbled up and overflowed into a primal yell. “YOU! You put that cryptic piece of crap on my roof. You ATTACKED me! You STOLE MY PHONE! You almost KILLED me, asshole! Why did you-- YOU! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” But everything after ‘cryptic’ was now muffled by this not-so-stranger’s hand, which Jean proceeded to bite.
    “Jean! Take a chill pill! God!” Every word was punctuated by a shake of Jean’s arms and a spray of bloody spittle. The more Jean’s eyes adjusted, the more blood she noticed on Nikko’s face. This didn’t make her sympathize. In fact, it just made her more angry because it confirmed he was her attacker. However, before she could tear into him again, he was whisper-yelling once more. “YOU broke my NOSE! And clawed my face. I mean, GOD, Jean. I wasn’t that scary! And lower your damn voice. They’re listening, you frickin’ IDIOT!” He panted, letting go of Jean for a second to paw at his dirt-and-blood-caked face.
    Jean used this second to her advantage and lunged forward to Vulcan-grip him, hoping it would work. Sadly, it didn’t and the nerd in Jean mourned. Never one to be perturbed, she screamed in his face instead. “You attacked me! What the hell did you expect me to do?! And… And YOU left that INANE note to meet you down here then ATTACK ME?!” She still had ahold of the weak spot between neck and shoulder and squeezed again for good measure.
    Nope. He was still not fazed. Crap! Nikko just scoffed. “What note? And you’re the one wandering down here in the middle of the night, being as LOUD as damn POSSIBLE! I was just telling you to be quiet and YOU attacked ME.”
    A growl erupted from Jean’s throat and she advanced on him, not a finger on Nikko but pushing him back verbally. “Don’t you DARE give me that! ‘Oh I was just telling you to be quiet. Jean is such a bully!’ Like HELL you were! Warn someone next time, will you?! Maybe then you won’t get your poor nose broken! Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t plant that note on my damn roof. Who else does crap like that, Nikko?!”
    She was cut off before she could even finish with an indignant “I...I DIDN’T, Jean!” And he advanced on her, too.
    They were face-to-face, panting with anger and indignation, fists clenching and unclenching in inactivity, for a few tense minutes. Jean didn’t answer his denial. She wouldn’t grace it with an answer. If she tried, it would be nothing but primal instincts. How dare he think her so stupid? He didn’t leave the note. Ha! Her head was pounding, like it always did around Nikko, but so hard this time it felt as if it were what was pumping boiling blood through her body, not her heart. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her mind and vision clear, otherwise she’d be blinded with and doubled-over in pain.
    Finally, Nikko cleared his throat and stepped back, suddenly timid. What had changed? He coughed and awkwardly shoved his hands in the pockets of the hoodie Jean suddenly noticed he had on. He was hiding something. “So…” he started off like they’d been in the middle of a casual conversation. “Do you…” insert forced cough “Do you happen to have the note with you?” He muttered it so offhandedly it was immediately suspicious. What was he hiding?
    “Um, no… It’s back at the house,” Jean answered before she could even think. Shit! If he thinks he’s coming back to my house…
    “Well then let’s go get it! I wanna see what this is all about.” But the second half of his statement was swallowed by Jean’s abrupt scream of “NO!” followed by Nikko slamming his hand over her mouth again. “Jean? SHUT UP! Good LORD!” he whisper-screeched in her ear.
    The burst of hot air in her ear made bile crawl up her throat. Her short stint of fight instinct hadn’t changed her inherent perception of him in the slightest. Why did her head pound whenever he was around? Why did he always churn her stomach? The journalist raged for answers again, but the “rational” part of Jean wanted nothing to do with Nikko ever again, his helping her be damned. So she compromised. Answers about this one event then she was gone. “Why?! Why do I have to shut up? Who’s this ‘they’ you keep talking about? Did ‘they’ send the note since YOU so obviously didn’t?”
    The last question was asked sarcastically, but it was the one he latched onto. “Probably…” he stated as if it were no big deal. Which most definitely meant it was.
    Jean waited for an answer to her other two questions but never got one. Nikko just handed her back her phone: they had both gotten used to the darkness by now. Her finger hovered over the power button. All she’d have to do is press 3 numbers and this could be over with. Forever. After a few moments of indecision, she shoved her Blackberry in her pocket, frustrated. The journalist just kept winning. “Who are ‘they?’ Is that why I have to be quiet?” she asked flatly, half-expecting to be ignored again.
    She kind of was. “Well, evidently they sent that message so getting you down here was part of a trap.”
    He was so obnoxious. He was so aloof and frustrating! Answer the damn question, will you? Jean, however, kept her cool and humoured him. “Okay, so why were you down here?”
    He evaded her immediately. “Next question.”
    “No.” Jean advanced on him again. “You half-assed my other questions. You’re gonna answer this one.” Nikko suddenly seemed to wilt and curl in on himself, which was refreshing. He was never uncomfortable. It also meant she was on the right track and needed to keep pushing.
    There went his jaw again. No lips. “Look,” he strained out, “I can’t tell you yet.” Jean fixed him with a look, which actually worked this time, to her surprise. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he licked his nonexistent lips, carefully considering before removing his hands from his hoodie and walking her back a few steps to be at arm's-length from him again. “There’s a sequence to these things, okay?”
    A SEQUENCE?! Who did he think he was?! Jean wasn’t tolerating this anymore. She went off. “NIKKO LEONID, I have put up with your bullshit for at least a month now! No, I will not wait! Damn your sequence. I want ANSWERS!” Somehow Jean managed to whisper-scream all this so she wasn’t interrupted again.
    “Okay! Okay…” Nikko tried to placate her to avoid another blow-out. That was...unusual. The answer to this question must be bad. But he cleared his throat and straightened his posture, which was a bad sign. Jean was losing the battle again. “Sequence,” he muttered firmly. Whether to himself or to them both, she didn’t know. “All right,” Hands were clapped together and the game face was on. The battle was lost. “We need someplace a bit more public. Somewhere I can keep a bead on everyone around us.” Nikko seemed to age 10 years as he thought. “Does-- did..Is that pizza place open 24/7?”
    “No,” Jean answered in a daze, trying to wrap her head around the changes. How was she gonna escape this? How was she gonna get her answers if she did, though? And now in public? And this elusive they… Granted, it gave her a bit of an advantage, plenty of people around and an easy escape, but she’d also be away from home. She had to make sure she stayed on solid ground instead of losing what little she’d gained.
    “Of course…” Nikko snapped multiple times like he thought it would help. “What about… How about IHOP? You like pancakes?”
    Nikko was talking in a whirlwind; Jean’s mind was a whirlwind. “I had a muffin…” she whispered, still in a daze. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Her mind kept working and working, seeking answers but never finding any suitable ones. The journalist was no help because all she wanted to do was frantically agree with whatever Nikko said so she could finally get her answers and that was scary. Daredevil Jean… Daredevil Jean was far too much like Nikko and he was trying to bring her out. And the part of Jean she considered rational just wanted to tuck tail and run like always. It was a no-win situation. The Nikko-ache pulsed louder and louder. That’s what she was calling them now: Nikko-aches, because in all the times she’d hurt herself, no pain was quite like the kind Nikko brought.
    Nikko was still talking. “Maybe Wal-mart. They’re 24/7, right? Or a gas station… No, too much movement. It’ll have to be IHOP.” And then he was dragging her off again.
    Jean thought back to the pizza place. She’d changed since then. He’d changed. And yet, here they were again, Jean being dragged off by Nikko and not doing a damn thing about it.

    To Jean’s pounding head, the sights, sounds, and smells of breakfast were more sickening than comforting. Everything blurred together, like that afternoon in the hall. Between Nikko and the regular noise level of a diner, all Jean’s senses went into overdrive and her head felt like it was going to explode. Thankfully, Nikko found a table near the middle of the diner and ordered for both of them all on his own. Jean would’ve never been able to handle that, what with her head trying to kill her.
    She sat there in a daze while Nikko took inventory of every person in the diner. He said he’d give her answers now, right? Jean needed to triage so she knew which answers she needed most, so she could take off right after. Thankfully, this IHOP wasn’t too far from her house: they’d walked there. So now that she had a quick escape, answers were the priority. Before she could start cleaning up her corkboard, Nikko interrupted her.
    “All right.” He clapped his hands, startling her into an upright position. “You’ll get your answers, but first you’ll get your food. It’s a surprise. Sequence.” And Nikko winked. That nymph-like gleam was back in his eyes. “But before all that, we’ve gotta get cleaned up. Can you imagine what a sight we are?”
    Jean took a look at Nikko: his ratty and matted hair, the blood coating the bottom half of his face, the dirt defining every line and pore above his collar, the overgrowth sticking to his clothes. She then tried to get a mental image of what that would look like on her. It wasn’t until Nikko’s face changed that Jean realized she was laughing. Real, honest-to-goodness laughter. All the tension from the past month and fear from tonight especially bubbled up out of her in uproarious, snorting peals of laughter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come this close to guffawing. In fact, she’d never guffawed. It felt wonderful to just sit here, hysterical and free. And when she looked at Nikko again, he was grinning from ear to ear, fiendish-looking what with the blood congealing all around his mouth. This sent her into more howls of laughter. What a sight they were indeed!

    They’d decided to go get cleaned up one at a time so the other could guard the table. Despite how bad he looked, Nikko had voted Jean go first. Feeling the sweat on her forehead and neck turning the dirt into a cakey substance, Jean had gratefully obliged.
    Now she was standing in front of the bathroom mirror and regretting it. She looked like she’d been dragged straight up from the pits of Hell. She had no idea what the heck had happened to her hair, but it looked as if she’d gone through a mudslide hurricane that had then deposited her into a vat of oil. Her skin resembled a blotchy fake tan. Jean couldn’t remember crawling out of a mafia grave in the desert, but it sure looked like she had. Okay, so how did she go about fixing this in a diner bathroom? Not one to be perturbed, Jean simply tore eye and nose holes in a paper towel, slathered it in soap, doused it in warm water, and smacked it on her face. She observed her creation hesitantly in the mirror. Well… she looked like a half-rate burglar, but it worked.
    Out of the few people that were also at the diner, only one person came in. While Jean was tentatively petting at her long tangled hair with a dripping paper towel, she suddenly heard a body slam into the swinging door. In trudged a teenager, quite obviously mid-road-trip, who looked like she’d seen some things. She regarded Jean, in the corner with her mask and paper towel mid-pet, and only spared a cursory glance. While Jean froze, the teen just slipped into a stall, unfazed. At her indifference, Jean figured, “Screw it!” and filled a sink full of water to dunk her hair in and start scrubbing.

    Fifteen minutes later, Jean walked out of the bathroom, mask-free and pseudo-clean. She felt a bit bad leaving Nikko there longer than planned, blood still congealing around his mouth. But he grinned when she turned the corner, still ghoulish-looking. As soon as Jean reached the table, he rose and gestured grandly. “Bon appetit!” On the table was a loaded plate. French toast, bacon, eggs, a side of pancakes… It was like they’d stuffed as much of breakfast as they could onto one plate. Then decided to throw in some pancakes as well. Despite what she’d said earlier, poppyseed muffins weren’t enough: Jean’s mouth was watering. She turned around to actually thank Nikko for once, but he was gone. How did he do that?

    Despite being more messed up than her, Nikko took way less time getting cleaned up than Jean. Nevertheless she was still almost finished scarfing down her meal when he got back to the table. He took another careful look around the diner, Jean slowing her shoveling to slyly watch him. She’d almost forgotten about this ‘they’ he was so worried about. Probably because she was still convinced it was him who sent the note and attacked her. And yet, since that liberating moment of laughter, it had been an out-of-body experience. She just couldn’t bring herself to hate or even fear him like before. There was still that sick feeling and the Nikko-ache, but beyond that…
    Jean busied herself studying his face. Now that the blood was gone, she could see what damage she’d caused. There was still blood clogging most of his pores, making the bottom half of his face a bit mottled with pink and rust. The worst part of it though was the scars along his jaw. They wrapped around the pudgy corner like one of those spaghetti bowls in the city. Somehow, they looked even worse than the mottled purple along the bridge of his nose. It didn’t look as crooked as before, but there was still something distinctly off about it. Jean had definitely broken his nose; yet, no matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find a shred of sympathy.
    All of that, however, kind of paled in comparison to one small detail. Dark lines layered under his eyes. More than usual. More than naturally. These weren’t a product of his deep sockets or the natural eyeliner he seemed to have. These were stress. These were insomnia. These were ever-present proof of this ‘they’ he kept warning about.
    Jean spared a look around herself for this omni-present ‘they,’ but since she had no idea what she was looking for, was unsuccessful.

    It took a long time to finish her food after that. She was lost in thought. Nikko nibbled away across from her, hungry but vigilant. All of this was getting far too muddled for Jean. She was supposed to feel a certain way about Nikko. She was supposed to be focusing on her future as a journalist. She was supposed to be Jean Janis freaking Parker, untouchable and unstoppable and so so so sure of herself. After this month, none of that made sense anymore. Lines had been crossed and there was no way to reconcile Jean Janis Parker with this new Jean, eating breakfast at an IHOP at 5AM with a boy she feared and hated and… No, she didn’t. Either one.
    THAT scared her.

    Plates were wiped clean with forks or fingers or bits of egg or pancakes. Drinks were chugged and coffee ordered. Two very different individuals stared each other down over steaming mugs.
    Back at home, Denny would be just making his own coffee and watching an obscure morning talk show before making sure Jean was up and at ‘em. But she could care less: answers were finally FINALLY infuriatingly close and she would pry them out with merciless precision. She eyed Nikko with as much cold calculation as she could muster. She was not his Jean; she was Jean Janis Parker, reporter on just another interview. She had all her questions planned, mentally shifting and stacking papers, licking her li--
    Nikko snickered. “How do you even start these things non-awkwardly? Just jump right in?” Then his voice took on a sarcastic tone. “Shall I state my name for the record? Got a tape recorder we can use?”
    Jean did in fact have a tape recorder but 1) she didn’t have it with her, and 2) even if she did, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of pulling it out now. So she just sat there patiently, resolutely distant. Just an interview.
    Nikko made a show of clearing his throat and straightening his stained clothes. “I’ll just jump right in, then,” he replied to Jean’s silence. “It was a dark and stormy night… OoooOooooh!” Nikko waggled his fingers eerily and alternated between storm sounds and his impression of a ghost. Jean’s stoic look deflated him after a few seconds, though. “Tough crowd,” he muttered, and attempted to match Jean’s level of sobriety. “As I recall, it was the middle of a school day. The year was 2010. Everything was going about normally. My bubble was intact and life uninterrupted. When suddenly!” BAM! Nikko slapped the table with far too much force, rattling coffee mugs and almost tipping the salt shaker. The huge ketchup bottle wobbled clumsily, then pitifully keeled over. Nikko continued, undeterred. “A girl! She notices! Shies away! This has never happened before! This isn’t supposed to happen.” Nikko pauses his dramatic dialogue to quickly insert, “We’ll get to that later.” Jean makes a mental note, underlined and bolded, to make doubly sure they get to that later, then determinedly jams it into the corkboard. “This isn’t an isolated event, though. She’s scared.” So he did know. He had known the whole time. Jean almost misses his next words, trying to school her face into something cold rather than shock. “So I did a few tests. I forced myself into her bubble like she had mine. I made doubly sure she really did notice me and really was afraid of me. Over years, I tested and tested until I was 100% sure it was me. And then I moved to the next level.” Nikko settled back into his chair like he’d finally reached his point. “I stared her down like she did me. I vanished when she wasn’t looking.” His gaze hardened as realization slowly dawned on Jean. “I talked to her…”
    A test. It was all just a test. Nikko was a sociopath who’d just let her loose in a maze as if she were a lab rat. HOW DARE-- An interview. This was all impersonal. He wasn’t talking about her. He’d never said it was her, so it could be anyone.
    Nikko had continued whilst Jean was pulling herself together. “--insert myself into her life as much as possible without changing too much. I think she’s better for it. Why’s this all so important?” His tone lost that narrative edge and turned personal. Nikko leaned far too much into Jean’s personal space and locked probing eyes on hers. There was a beat of silence, hot coffee-stained breath wafting from each of them: Jean starting to panic and Nikko schooling his exhales. Finally, he whispered, “You’re not supposed to see me.”
    He didn’t pull back to watch her reaction. Jean didn’t immediately catch on. Nikko just waited there, face inches from hers. She just patted her pockets for her wallet because that was the polite thing to do and their waiter had been nothing but courteous. This she could do. This she could focus on. After a few seconds’ searching, she realized she was in thermals and basketball shorts; she had left the house in the middle of the night; she didn’t have her wallet. Jean just sat back, defeated. She didn’t have any food to finish and her coffee was probably cold and just dregs by now. She had no tip to leave. There was nothing to distract her from what was just posed. And there was no way she was even dignifying it with an answer. No way. She wasn’t playing--
    “So what…? You’re some kind of woodland fairy?” Jean deadpanned, half-expecting him to answer ‘yes’ after all this.
    He chuckled. He freaking chuckled! “Well, not particularly, but--”
    SCREW Nikko. SCREW all of this. She’d come here for answers, not delusions of grandeur or all the bullshit Nikko was shoveling. Jean had reached her bullshit quota for the year. She was going home and getting this monster the hell out of her life.
    She rose from the table, jolting it, finally knocking that salt shaker over. If she’d been in her right mind, Jean might have appreciated the irony in that, but she was too busy seeing red. Nikko was already sputtering and rising to go after her, but he needed to seriously STEP OFF if he wanted to live. She marched resolutely out the door, Nikko still chasing after her.
    “Come ON, Jean! You can’t tell me it doesn’t make any sense!” Jean rolled her eyes and moved faster, hoping to shake him, but it was no use. “Your head doesn’t throb around me? You don’t get that itching feeling that something is very wrong? That it’s me?” His words made a chill crackle down her spine. Of course he knew how he affected her. However, his next words stopped her in her tracks. “You can’t act like you haven’t seen things. Weird things. Flickers.”
    How did he know? How could he possibly know? Jean had tried to deny it, but yesterday had not been the first time she’d seen a flicker like that.
    “Heard things no one else hears. Noticed things no one else seems to. Your eyes have been opened, Jean. That’s why they want you.”
    He knew. He knew everything. Nikko had read Jean like a book from the very beginning. She’d thought he’d just been an irrational fear, some challenge she needed to endure to be a true reporter. But he knew everything she’d experienced since they “met.” How much more did he know?
    Involuntarily, Jean surged toward him. Collar in her hands, she drug him to the nearest dark spot and shoved him against the side of a building. “TALK.”

    Nikko had led her to an alley between two stores he deemed “safe,” although he still kept an eye out for that they he kept referring to. Jean stalked about, fuming. The anger was just so palpable now, far too palpable and far too powerful. She’d never been this angry; she’d always been able to control it before. But now… Every look at Nikko spiked her fury just as it spiked the Nikko-ache. Everything was falling apart and he hadn’t even begun to tell her the truth.
    He was babbling now. “I wanted to tell you, Jean. I wanted to tell you everything. Just… Just not like this. I had a plan and everything. It just all… Sequence. Damn sequence.” He made like to throw something but had nothing in his hands. “Just tell me you’ll believe me. Jean, you have to believe me, above all else. It’s so very important you believe me. Please be--”
    That was IT! “About what, Nikko? You’ve told me nothing but that I’m some lab rat to you, a fairytale creature. I’m supposed to freaking believe that?! What are you trying to tell me?” Jean backed him into a wall. “What?” Hands slammed against shoulders. “What?”
    This wasn’t right. None of this was right. They weren’t supposed to be here. Nikko wasn’t supposed to be telling her this. Jean wasn’t supposed to be so angry. Or hands on. Once again, it felt wrong and sick to touch him. To acknowledge him. To deny him. The Nikko-ache faded, but at what cost? That not-right feeling had been slowly wading through her subconscious this entire morning, but now it belly-flopped. Quickly, Jean released Nikko and staggered to the left just enough to release a boiling torrent of partially-digested breakfast. It missed their clothes, but splashed onto and over pants and shoes. The sight made her dry-heave.
    Calmly, Nikko stepped from the wall and got Jean’s attention, careful not to touch her again. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’ve felt that before. Not-right and just a hint of not-there. Jean, you see. That’s why.”
    “Flickers?” Jean choked out between spitting. She was done denying. All she could do was play along.
    “Flickers,” Nikko echoed flatly. He was so calm about all of this. How was he so calm? “I figured this would happen.” He rifled around in his pockets. “I brought napkins,” Nikko explained, holding out a stack of five.
    Jean greedily snatched them from him and furiously mopped at her face and what she could of her pants. She glanced at Nikko’s, but thought better of touching him again.
    Without meeting his eyes, Jean passed him two unused napkins. He thanked her nonverbally by being sure not to touch her.
    When all was said and done, they both dropped their napkins unceremoniously and sank to the filthy ground. Nikko’s tired eyes glanced the direction of Jean’s neighbourhood, then back to her. “Red pill or blue pill?”
    Jean laughed. It was the polar opposite of her earlier, world-shattering laugh. This one was dry and dark, no mirth in it. “Red pill.”