Undaunted by the state of his own old pick, Samson approaches a rock and decimates it with a full-animation attack.
My heart jumps as the stone collapses into two manageable pieces.
Forgive me.
I forgot.
Samson’s body is better than platinum gear.
And even his glare decimates.
Praise be. All hail. Amen.
Scanning my awe, and potentially my drool, Samson says, “If you’re comfortable letting me use your void bag, we can work faster with both of us collecting and breaking.”
I blink myself out of the daze, pull my backpack off my shoulders, and get my own pick out before offering the bag to him. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable letting you use my bag?”
He looks between my face and the leather, then carefully takes it from my hands. Crouching, he nudges the rocks inside, letting the void slurp them in. “Even if it’s bonded to you in a way that won’t let me access the contents, it’s still expensive.”
Humming, I chip at a different boulder, letting the magic behind three pathetic taps carry me where my shoulders simply cannot. “I keep forgetting that.”
“I had noticed.” He hands the bag off for me to use while he tackles another stone.
To avoid drooling this time, I focus on scooping up my own stones, then pass back.
This’ll go twice as fast.
Half the work.
Wait, no.Lessthan half the work. While it takes me three—albeit puny—swings, it only takes himone. That means I’m no longer working with fifteen hundred animations to achieve my goal. Calculating the number of swings required at this point would enlist algebra.
Ha ha.
Life is full of things mere mortals shall never know, I suppose!
So much for smallering the numbers.
They shall have to remain large, and mysterious…just like…
Samson is watching me when I chance a glance in his direction.
Heat suffuses through every last one of my pores, turning me cherry tomato red. Even though it’s not tomato season until summer…
Another of life’s great mysteries.
“What?” I ask as I fix my glasses on my freckled nose. I showered in a bucket this morning, and I amcute. There is no reason for perception to intimidate me anymore.
My heart does not get the memo.
Samson’s eyes skim down clothes I have only been able to take off inside my house and beat over a chair to “clean,” and wouldn’t you know? I have found reasons for perception to continue intimidating me…
He looks elsewhere as he passes me back my void bag. “Where did you come from?”
My stomach knots. “What do you mean?” Heck, I came from heck. As in H-E-double-hockey-sticks on earth. Also known as: Florida. But I don’t think either of those horrible, no-good concepts exist in this place.
Or.
At least.
