The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 467

Chapter 467: 467 | The Smile is the Delivery Mechanism

"On the structural context. Whether the wall is a choice or a constraint. Whether the person pinning has earned the position through demonstrated capability or through circumstance." Petra’s flush had climbed past her collar, past her jaw, all the way to her ears, and her voice remained perfectly level the entire time, which made the blush worse because the contradiction between what her face communicated and what her voice performed was the most honest thing I’d seen from her since a conference room sixty minutes ago. "If earned, the answer is thrilling. If assumed, the answer is insulting."

Camille processed this with visible interest. "And if the wall is a bathroom doorframe during a supervised exercise?"

"Then the answer is thrilling and I refuse to elaborate."

Felicity laughed so hard she fell sideways into my shoulder, and the impact pressed her chest against my arm through that white cropped top in a way that my Demigod-enhanced nervous system cataloged with devastating clarity, the softness and the warmth and the pressure, and I sat very still because moving in any direction would make the situation either better or worse and I couldn’t afford either outcome right now.

"Mmmh." The sound came from Felicity, muffled against my shoulder, somewhere between a laugh and something else she disguised as a laugh. Her breath was warm through my shirt, and the vibration of her continued giggling did things to the nerve endings running along my trapezius that I chose to ignore with the discipline of a man carrying forty Defiance Points and zero margin for error.

Vivienne moved the needle to approximately eighty percent toward THRILLING. Camille revealed the target at seventy-five.

"Close," Camille said, and something in her voice had dropped a full register into the range she usually reserved for combat, low and direct and stripped of performance. "Drink."

"The margin was five percent," Petra protested.

"Rules are rules, Lang." Camille poured sake into Petra’s abandoned water glass with the precision of someone who had been measuring distances her entire life. "Drink up."

Petra drank. The motion of her throat as she swallowed was visible from where I sat, and the slight wince that followed suggested she was not a practiced sake consumer. Felicity refilled her own glass and took a solidarity sip, which she did not need to do and which I understood was strategy rather than friendship, though with Felicity the two concepts ran parallel tracks that converged at unpredictable intervals.

Vivienne selected the next card. She studied it for three full seconds, and her vivid green eyes found mine across the small room with the calm of someone who had been waiting for this card since the game began.

"Spectrum is HARMLESS to DANGEROUS," she said. "My clue is: Lukas Belmont’s smile."

Camille barked a laugh and Felicity went still against my arm and Petra’s pen hit the floor, and the three of them looked at each other with the specific energy of women who had just heard their internal monologues narrated aloud by someone with a passive electromagnetic perception field and zero social inhibition.

"That’s cheating," I said. "You can’t use me as a clue."

"Something else isn’t on the spectrum," Vivienne noted.

"Put it at ninety percent toward dangerous and I’ll live with the inaccuracy."

Petra had not spoken. Her water glass sat empty beside her. The sake had put a second layer of color across her cheekbones that her usually impeccable composure could not suppress, and her emerald eyes were fixed on the spectrum dial with the focus of someone performing calculations she did not want to share.

"Lang," Camille said. "Your turn."

Petra picked up her pen from the floor. Straightened. The motion pulled her pajama top taut across her chest for half a second before the silk resettled, and the flush stayed exactly where it was.

"Dangerous," she said. "The target is approximately eighty-five percent toward dangerous. I know this because in a conference room ninety-three minutes ago, Lukas Belmont told me something honest while standing close enough that I could feel his pulse through his shirt, and I signed a federal document afterward because my judgment was compromised in a way I have not yet fully categorized." She paused. The pen tapped once against her planner. "His smile was not part of the encounter. He was not smiling when he said it. The danger exists independent of the smile. The smile is merely the delivery mechanism for a personality type that I find... nngh."