“I think he goes by Fenn with them because of the razzing about his first name.”
Elora nodded. “Yeah. I can see that.”
“Anyway.”
“Yes? Anyway? Go on.”
Elsbeth grinned. “I like him.”
“And that’s supposed to be a revelation?” Elora pulled her friend to a stop. “Really?”
“Okay, yeah, I like him a lot,” she chuckled.
“You really need to work on your impulsivity.”
“Really?” Elsbeth looked concerned.
“No! Not really! You need to borrow a nickel for the jar and go see Monq.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind. I guess that’s a service for knights. Forget I said anything. Back to Fenn… uh, Dirk. I’ve got to tell you it feels weird to call him that. Like my tongue is resisting.”
They had just reached the elevator doors when Elsbeth leaned in and whispered, “I get it. I’m terrified that one of these nights I’m going to accidentally shout Dick instead of Dirk.”
When the doors opened, none other than Sir Fennimore was standing there being treated to the sight of two grown women locked in a fit of giggles that would make any tween proud. Fenn, who lived about halfway down the section hallway on Elora’s floor, gave them a sexy little smile that said he was both charmed and amused.
“Ladies.” He addressed both women, but had eyes only for Elsbeth. As he and Elsbeth changed places, her taking his place on the elevator, he looked down lowered lids with an expression of male smugness and said, “Later.” The unmistakable undertone filled the air with suggestion. Elora looked at Elsbeth and crossed her eyes.
Walking back toward her apartment, Fennimore fell into step with Elora, but said nothing more. When they neared his door, she said, “Have fun tonight, Dirk.”
Elora suppressed a smile when she caught a little hitch in his stride.
The next afternoon Elora returned to the apartment looking a little dazed. The experiment hadn’t been painful. She’d breathed into a gas mask twice, then Monq said, “That’s it.”
“You sure? I don’t think anything happened.”
He smirked. “Okay. See you later.”
Elora shrugged as she started to get up. She made it as far as a crouch and sat back down. Hard. “What the hell, Monq?”
He chuckled and did a little jig. “It works!!” She gaped at him with a mix of confusion and betrayal. “You’ve grown used to wearing a superwoman suit, my dear. The gas just took it away from you, as it would any visitor from your dimension of origin. If you ever have to function under the effects of the Equalizer, you’re going to need to make some adjustments.”
“Adjustments? I feel like I’m seventy years old.”
Monq cocked his head. “How do you know what seventy feels like?”
“I have a good imagination. This isn’t going to work. If I was being attacked I wouldn’t be able to defend myself. Or my family. Or my friends. Or anybody else for that matter.”
“Sure you could. You’d just be reduced to the same physical resources as any other woman. You still have your angry martial skills.”
“Angry martial skills?” She stared. He nodded. “Do you mean mad skills?”
“Whatever.”
She shook her head and mumbled to herself, “Who would have ever thought I’d be correcting somebody on pop phraseology?”
“And! You’re still you.”