Chương 8: Chapter 5.2: The Eyes of Marsh

The lunch crowd had the dining hall packed to the brim, but finding Harley never took too long. Somehow, even in a crowded room, Harley managed to be sitting alone. She was practically vibrating with anticipation by the time Vell sat down.

"Hey, Harley, we're going to have to make this kind of quick, I have to interrupt a lunch meeting about the play tonight," Vell said. Harley nodded.

"I'll save my choicest banter for later," Harley said.

"Let's start with the obvious, though." Harley bopped Vell on the head with her knuckles.

"How dense are you that you didn't realize it was a date?"

"I've known Joan for a month," Vell said.

"It seems weird she'd want to move that fast."

"I asked you to bang after I'd known you for like six hours," Harley said.

"But a date after a month is too fast?"

"That's different, you're, uh, you," Vell said. Harley nodded in agreement.

"Joan seemed, more, well, normal."

"Oh, the lady with prosthetic eyes is normal, yeah," Harley scoffed.

"How do you know about that?"

"Please, Vell, she's wearing Tiresias Series Eight's," Harley said.

"I could spot the corneal refraction from a mile off." The unearthly aptitude for technology Harley demonstrated on a regular basis unsettled Vell, but that was a matter for another time. Vell shrugged, still failing to understand Joan's very quick interest in him.

"I just don't get why she's into me, I guess," Vell said.

"Listen, bud, I didn't offer to jump your bones on a whim," Harley said.

"I have actual standards, you know. You're tall, relatively handsome, and you've got a sort of awkward charm. You're attractive, yet approachable. Chicks dig that. Especially chicks who are in a new environment and don't have a lot of friends."

"Okay, now how do you know that?" Vell said accusingly. Joan was from a small town in Germany, and felt out of her depth at the College. Something Vell was pretty sure she'd only told him.

"I talk to Joan too," Harley said.

"People like to tell me things. I think I have a trustworthy face." Vell couldn't argue with that.

"Right," Vell said. He checked his phone for the time, and found he was cutting it close.

"I better get going if I'm going to stop Caesar. Got to go meet my roommates."

"I'm headed the same way for my next class, we can walk and talk," Harley suggested. Vell nodded. He'd be glad of the company, at least. Like Joan, he was still self-conscious about being in a new environment, and having a friend at your side always made it easier. Harley followed behind him with a spring in her step as they headed towards the freshman dorms.

"Speaking of your roommates, is Luke single?"

"Yes, but he's also gay," Vell said.

"Cane's asked about you, though."

"Hmm. I can work with that. Thanks for the heads up." Vell sighed. He didn't know why he was playing along with this.

"How do you do it? Get, uh, intimate with people who aren't in on the time loops?"

"I make no promises and manage expectations," Harley said.

"And I do all my seducing day-of. When people get in bed with me they know they're getting something short-lived but fun."

"Right. So you lean into it being something temporary."

"Won't really work for you and Joan, huh? Well, there's workarounds," Harley said.

"If you're really bothered by it, you can just ignore Joan the whole first loop. Not like she'll remember you giving her the cold shoulder, and then you can just let everything be normal on the second day."

"I guess, but even that feels kind of manipulative," Vell said.

"Well it's one of the best options you've got," Harley said.

"If you're that worried about it, just reject her flat out. Can't have a toxic relationship if you've got no relationship at all." Vell sighed again. He'd been doing a lot of that during this whole conversation. Harley gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Hey, you're still getting used to all this," she said.

"You'll figure out how you cope with the time loops, and with other people, in enough time. Everybody's got their own way of handling it. Maybe Joan will be a part of yours." Vell sighed again, and Harley restrained the urge to roll her eyes. He hoped he could get some more advice. He trusted Harley with a lot of things, but relationship advice was not one of them. They had very different perspectives on intimacy.

"Has anyone in the group ever dated someone outside it? Has Lee got anything about that in her big old binders?"

"Well, not that I know of, but this shit's been going on since the school started way back in the 40's, so just by law of large numbers somebody must have been getting it on with someone," Harley said.

"I think Leanne might actually be dating somebody now, but obviously she doesn't talk about that, least of all with me."

"So you think there'd be something in the binders?"

"Fuck if I know, you think I read that shit?" Harley said, offended at the very implication that she would be up to speed on Lee's meticulous record-keeping.

"Fair enough."

"Ask Lee at showtime tonight," Harley said.

"Assuming we don't have to blow up the play to stop Caesar's ghost."

"I won't assume that," Vell said. He recalled all too well that Harley had offered him a bomb, and he was at least eighty percent sure she hadn't been joking.

"Assuming everything goes well, are you going to come tonight?"

"Assuming everything goes well I'll be coming on Monday, and so will Cane." Harley paused to snort with laughter at her own joke. Vell waited patiently for the giggle to subside.

"No but seriously, probably not," Harley said.

"Lee wants to go and she doesn't like watching stuff with me."

"How'd she convince you to stay away night one, anyway?"

"She fucking asked nicely, Vell, I got manners," Harley said. She looked up at the freshman dorms they were fast approaching.

"This is your stop, Vell. Tell Cane I said hey. With a wink." Harley winked at Vell for emphasis.

"I'm not going to wink at him," Vell said.

"What kind of messenger boy are you?" Harley shouted, with genuine offense. She turned her back on him and walked away, leaving Vell to face his roommates -and his would-be girlfriend- alone. Vell walked into his own dorm and slammed his bookbag down on the counter. He stretched out a sore shoulder and walked into the common area. His roommates were scattered around the room in various dramatic poses, following Joan's directions. Luke paused mid-death to wave at Vell.

"Hey Vell," he said, before continuing his death spiral. He collapsed onto a couch with dramatic aplomb.

"Hey guys," Vell said. He turned to Cane specifically.

"Harley says hey." Cane raised an eyebrow and looked up from his script. Joan set hers on the table and sprang out of her seat, striding up to Vell.

"What's up, Vell?" She asked. There was a coy smile on her face that Vell had seen a lot, but now understood much better. Between that smile and the glimmer in her red eyes, Vell felt really stupid for not realizing how she felt earlier. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"Well, I, uh, had a bit of free time today, and thought I'd offer a little help with the play," Vell said.

'I know it's a bit late for me to play in the, well, play, but I figure I could help with, you know, props or something. Maybe the knives."

"Well, we've got a handle on that, actually," Joan said.

"I should hope so, it'd be hard to use a knife without a handle," Renard said. Luke and Cane shot him dirty looks. Joan's smile dropped off her face for a moment and then returned just as quickly.

"I'm sure we can find something for you to do," Joan said.

"If you want to handle some props, I've got them in my room." Joan tilted her head down the hallway, towards her dorm. Vell bit his tongue.

"Why don't I stay here and, uh, run a rehearsal while you run and grab the props?" Vell suggested.

"Got to make sure these guys know what they're doing." Joan's red eyes darted around the room as her face shifted between disappointment, confusion, and acceptance.

"Sure," she said.

"Be right back." Joan gave Vell an odd look as she walked out of the room. Vell watched her go, and then turned to see Luke and Cane giving him the same look.

"What?"

"Do you need me to spell it out for you?" Luke asked.

"That was hypothetical, I am going to spell it for you: Joan wants your bod something fierce."

"Vell, are you stupid, or just gay?" Cane asked.

"Because you know thanks to these two that I ain't going to judge you for being either." Renard laughed at the joke for two seconds before realizing that Luke was the gay one, and that made him the stupid one.

"Hey!"

"You laughed, which means I'm right," Cane said. Renard struggled to think of a rebuttal.

"Look, I get it, Joan's kind of in to me, I figured that out," Vell said, conveniently failing to mention he hadn't figured it out on his own.

"There's just a lot going on right now, you know?"

"Yeah, I understand how you feel," Renard said.

"You're also into that Lee chick you hang out with, right?"

"What? I- No. No," Vell said.

"It's nothing like that. I just, um, I'm struggling to adjust to a lot of new life stuff being at college, and I just don't think I can focus on a relationship right now."

"Are you sure you're not into Lee? You ran off to flirt with her on day one and everything," Renard said.

"Focus, Ren," Luke said.

"The man is clearly struggling. Answer me this, Vell: If things were simpler, would you date Joan?" A million different factors flushed through Vell's head at once. He ignored them all and went with his kneejerk reaction.

"Yeah... I guess."

"Well then, how can we make things simpler?" Another million ideas rushed through Vell's head. He was starting to get a headache. Vell shook his head clear and got back to reality.

"That is a very complicated question," Vell said.

"Well, you come up with anything you let us know," Cane said. Vell started to think of a way they might be able to help, but his train of thought derailed when Joan returned.

"Okay, I got the knives," she said.

"Careful, at least one of these is sharp!" She lowered a box onto the common room table. Vell focused on the knife problem, for the moment. One of the knives in that box had killed Caesar, and Vell had to get it out of the way. At least it couldn't be too hard to identify a two-thousand year old dagger. Vell took a look in the box.

"Guys?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do all of these knives look exactly the same?" Joan's box contained half a dozen completely identical knives. Renard beamed proudly.

"Oh yeah! I bought one dagger that was like this genuine roman thing and then I used one of those fancy matter printers in the lab to make exact duplicates. Smart, right?"

"Smart how?" Luke said.

"Well it saved money," Renard said.

"Do you have any idea how expensive five authentic roman daggers would be?"

"Renard, it costs like three hundred bucks to 3D print with metal filament," Luke said.

"A prop knife is maybe ten bucks."

"Huh," Renard said.

"Well, this looks more authentic." Vell reached into his pocket and pulled out his scanning glasses. A quick analysis of the various daggers showed that they were made of almost identical materials. His glasses couldn't analyze objects thoroughly enough to pick out the real dagger among the fakes. Vell sighed and resisted the urge to glare at Renard. He'd either have to guess or get rid of all of the daggers. Both seemed like terrible ideas.

"Is everything alright, Vell?" Joan asked.

"It's been a long day," he sighed. A long day twice-over, to be precise.

"Sounds rough," Joan said.

"I appreciate you wanting to help, but why don't you just relax? We've got this handled, and you look like you could use a break."

"If only," Vell said. He kept his focus on solving the ghost of Caesar, for now, and set his relationship issues aside. His roommates had promised to help with that later. Two of Vell's brain cells rubbed together and provided a serendipitous spark of inspiration.

"You know, you're right, Joan, I do need a break," Vell said. He pushed the box of knives away.

"Sorry I bothered you about the knives."

"Alright, well, it's no trouble, I'm glad you wanted to help," Joan said.

"I'll just leave these here for now, I guess. You guys got all the booze you need, right?"

"All we need and more," Cane said.

"I came prepared, thanks." Cane had been stocked up on alcohol before he'd even known about the drunken theater. So had Renard, but he was a lightweight, so that didn't take much.

"Then I guess I'll see you at the show," Joan said.

"You want to watch it with me?" Vell asked. She had been just about to ask him. Vell figured he'd take the initiative this time around.

"Sure," Joan said with a smile. She made her plans, exactly the same as she'd made them on the first loop, and bid goodbye to Vell and his roommates as she headed back to class. As the meeting adjourned, Vell called for attention.

"So, you guys are willing to help me out with her, right?"

"You look like a man with an idea," Luke said. Cane and Renard nodded.

"What do you need, Vell?"

"Firstly, I need you to not ask questions," Vell said.

"And secondly, I need you to fuck up this play." Cane, Renard, and Luke nodded in perfect synch.

"You have come to the right people," Renard said. The second friday night went much the same as the first -with the slight difference that lee was sitting at t the back of the crowd this time. Vell could tell Lee was watching him and Joan more than she was watching the play. He figured he couldn't blame her for being curious. Other than her relocation, the conversation flowed about as it had the first time.

"Hey, Vell, have I told you about my eyes yet?"

"The prosthetics, right?" Vell bit his tongue a second too late.

"Oh, yeah," Joan said.

"I didn't think I had..."

"Yeah, that was, uh, Harley, she told me," Vell said, trying to take control of his nosedive.

"She's got an eye for tech. And uh, you've got tech for eyes." Joan giggled, and Vell felt he'd recovered nicely.

"You know some strange people, Vell," Joan said.

"And yes, that includes me."

"Birds of a feather, I guess," Vell said. He was technically a corpse, so he had no right to call anyone else strange.

"Oh look, here's some strange people now." Right on queue, the actors were stumbling their way to the stage. Luke caught Vell's eye and gave him a knowing nod. Apparently they all remembered the plan. Vell nodded back and enjoyed the show. It proceeded just as it had before, surprisingly coherently in spite of the actors obvious drunkenness. They shambled and slurred their way through a half-decent rendition of Shakespeare while Vell waited for the other shoe to drop.

As the moment of truth approached, Vell could see Lee looking at him with increasing concern. He wasn't too sure what Luke and the others were going to do, but he had a feeling it would work out.

"Are we all ready? What's going on that Caeser and the senate must address?" Luke raised his hands, and the actors approached, slowly encircling him with their knives clutched behind their backs.

"Actually, there is something Caesar must address," Luke shouted. He lowered his hands before sweeping one across his forehead dramatically.

"I've decided to give up on ruling Rome, so that I can pursue my true passion!" Luke reached into his robe and pulled out a small tray with several pastries on it.

"Baking!" The knife wielding actors paused, just as confused as the audience. Vell was confused as well, but only because he had no idea how Luke had hidden a tray of pastries inside a toga for the entire play. Cane, as Brutus, stepped up and put an arm around Luke's shoulder.

"Boy am I glad you said that," Cane said.

"Me and the lads were all set to stab you for all that tyranny you were doing." To demonstrate his point, Cane raised one of the mock Roman knives. Luke looked at it with shock for a moment before shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, I can't blame you," he said.

"I've really been putting the 'dick' in 'dictator' lately."

"It's all in the past now, buddy," Cane said. Luke nodded and held aloft his tray of mystery pastries.

"Eclair, Brute?" As the show went further and further off the rails, Vell turned to Joan. She looked equal parts confused and amused by the pastry-themed turn of events. While the actors that weren't Vell's roommates stuck out the change in script admirably, they eventually walked away in confusion in the middle of Renard monologuing a donut recipe (in perfect iambic pentameter, somehow). Seeing some of the actors give up soured Joan's mood.

"Well, this is kinda funny," Joan admitted.

"But it's also kind of a week of hard work down the toilet."

"I think the dining hall's still open, if you want to get a nightcap," Vell suggested.

"I think I'd rather go back to your room and see if there's any vodka left," Joan said.

"Okay." Vell's acceptance actually caught her off guard. He'd been turning down or ignoring obvious hints all week. Vell stood up, extended a hand to Joan, and helped her to her feet. They packed up their blanket and snacks and headed back to Vell's room, with Joan looking mildly surprised the whole way. Vell watched a purple butterfly drift past in the evening air, and let the beautiful sight clear his head as he prepared to talk.

"So, I know I have not exactly been great at this whole flirting thing," Vell said. Joan went a bit red in the face, in spite of her attempts to play it cool.

"And frankly, my life is kind of weird in general, and I doubt it's going to get any less weird any time soon." Joan put a hand to her chin thoughtfully.

"How weird?"

"Remember a while back when we had a movie marathon with an octopus?"

"Distinctly."

"I feel like that's going to be about the baseline. Might get weirder. Too early to tell," Vell said.

"If you're cool with that, I'd love to spend some time with you in between the random bullshit."

"I feel like I can live with that," Joan said. Joan grabbed on to his arm and clung to it tightly as they headed back to the dorms. Vell let out a deep sigh, just to clear his head. Tomorrow would be a day off, at least. He had a long school year ahead of him, and Caesar's ghost was probably not going to be the strangest thing he saw all year. He stopped thinking about that, for fear of jinxing himself, but it was far too late. He was well and thoroughly jinxed.