Grayson looked at Neville with a serious gaze, as if he were asking about more than this one match.
You rember what I taught you, right?
Neville’s neck instantly heats up.
"I rember," he said, almost too fast.
Inside his head, Neville was frantically running through the tis he had ever booted up cha Warfare Online.
The neural link was a pleasant option to choose because he could never be bothered to pilot the manual way.
That was his guilty secret.
He had climbed the ranks in the ga by using only the neural link. He never once bothered training with anything other than that.
Not even when Grayson already taught him how.
If Grayson knew, he wasn’t going to admit it. And clearly, he did not know, because the warning was real.
He really thinks I only played manuals, Neville realized, embarrassed in a small, flattering way.
Lilianna, who had deliberately lingered close enough to overhear, smirked.
"Can you even handle the manual controls?"
She drawled, loud enough for anyone in the room or near the room to hear.
"Maybe a little damage from the neural link would be acceptable. At least that could sowhat make it easier for you to pilot. Higher chances of winning."
Neville turned his head and smiled at her.
But it was not a nice smile.
"How about," he said, pleasantly, "I manually dismantle you? Would that be enough to prove I can use the manual controls?"
Lilianna’s laugh was a hair too loud.
"Grayson, you heard that, right?" she called, tossing her hair. "There’s no going back now."
Grayson this. Grayson that.
Neville felt the vein at his temple make a small, indignant pulse.
Every ti she spoke, she called for Grayson’s na as if afraid that soone would forget that she knew Grayson. As if flinging it around would tie Grayson to her instead of him.
And the worst part was that Neville could not even throw a tantrum about it, because he refused to stoop to her level.
Grayson ignored Lilianna and turned his full attention to Neville.
He asked, "Are you really sure about this? You know you don’t have to do this, right?"
Neville opened his mouth to answer, but Grayson wasn’t finished.
"You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I know I brought you here, and I may have created so unintended issues for you. But know that, there’s nothing in this room that matters more than what you want."
Grayson’s eyes darkened.
"If you tell to walk you out right now, we’ll walk out right away. I’ll handle everything else. Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it."
Neville felt his eyes sting faintly, which was an annoying and inconvenient thing for them to do in front of an audience.
"I know," he said softly. "But this isn’t just because I want to thrash her personally."
Neville stepped a little closer, his voice dropped to a whisper only the two of them could hear.
"We need ti, don’t we?"
Grayson’s pupils narrowed a little.
"I don’t know exactly what’s happening outside."
Neville’s lashes lowered; his mouth quirked a little in a self-deprecating frown.
"But I’m not stupid. I know you and your friend’s little movents. So whatever it is, handle it fast."
For a mont, Grayson just stared at him.
"I want to get out of here as fast as possible," Neville said and smiled sweetly, warm and bright.
Then Grayson did sothing completely unforgivable (?).
He leaned down, right there, in front of everyone, and kissed Neville.
[Favorability 1%]
Grayson didn’t go deep because he knew that Neville would be angry. Instead, he just pressed their lips tight, savoring every second of it.
"As you wish, my dear," Grayson murmured against his lips.
Neville’s whole face went hot, and he instinctively slapped Grayson on the arm.
"Get going then!" he hissed, bashful and furious.
Grayson straightened and had the audacity to look proud of himself. Then, right as he was turning away, he snapped his fingers as though suddenly recalling a minor errand.
"Oh—I forgot to ntion. I hit record. For commorative purposes."
"You what—"
Grayson was already running, chuckling sexily, too.
Neville looked at the unrepentant, unapologetic man going away, huffing and puffing.
Grayson vaulted down the short step of the dais and through the door, and the door slid shut behind him with a crisp, satisfied click.
Neville stood there with both hands clenched at his sides and a belly full of unvented anger.
"I’m going to kill him," he announced to no one in particular.
"Let’s go, let’s go!" Ciel said excitedly as he settled into the sofa.
"Seat properly!" Thiago shouted, scolding as he brought newly mixed drinks from the bar.
Neville inhaled, exhaled.
Fine, then.
Adjusted his glasses so aggressively that the hinge squeaked in protest.
If Grayson was going to be a nace, he was going to take this bundle of embarrassnt, outrage, residual tenderness, and fury and drive the whole ss directly to Lilianna Gringer’s cockpit.
Neville turned toward the virtual pod.
Lilianna was already halfway inside hers, long legs folded into the seat, cream heels kicked off by the step.
She had been watching the whole kiss-and-run sequence with her chin on the back of her hand with an icy expression.
When Neville caught her eye, she bared her teeth in sothing that was supposed to be a smile.
Brrr... cold and poisonous. Neville thought, having goosebumps.
Neville proceeded to ignore Lilianna and slid inside the virtual pod.
The hatch hissed down over him, sealing him into a dark, egg-shaped space that slled faintly of antiseptic polyr.
Safety harness webbed across his shoulders. A thin visor descended over his eyes.
Boot-up began.
Several logos appeared, brief and tasteful, spinning in blue.
It wasn’t as good as the one he had at ho, provided by the system, but it was good enough.
Once inside, Neville flexed his hands once and let his shoulders drop.
Being alone in the virtual pod, in the ga, in a cha for the first ti without a pink pixie guide made Neville excited.
He could almost hear Shelly say, Oh, host, try not to die without .
Neville grinned so wide it hurt his cheeks.
Let’s see what I can actually do without you, Shelly.
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