“An hour already? Time flies when you’re having fun, hm, Camilla?”

“You’ve got about 10 seconds to explain why the in all of the everliving fucks I am in the house of the barista that I ordered a coffee from”

“How about the house of an old acquaintance, instead?~”

“Mc-fucking-Scuze you, creep? Do I know you?”

“Don’t recognize your old pal Heather?”

“It’s been 5 years, get over it, rug-muncher. Did you fucking drug me? I’m going to call the cops.”

“2825”

“..pardon?”

“That’s your pin, is it not?”

“How do you know that? Have you been stalking me? Creep.”

“You told me, ’member?”

“No, the fuck I didn’t, skank. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.” She begins to swiftly find the exit, a mix of horrified and disgusted

“Collapse, Cammy.”

thud

“OW FUCK, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO”

“If you come back here, I’ll gladly explain~”

Camilla slowly picks herself up off of the linoleum and stirs toward the couch, filled with a mix of terror and morbid curiosity on what just happened

“Are you going to explain what the fuck is going on, Heather?”

“Sure~ I slipped a little potion of mine into your latte.~ Not a drug, mind you, I really do mean a potion~”

“Great, I got roofied by some lesbo batshit.”

“Not quite~ That potion didn’t knock you out, just made you very, very, compliant and unquestioning~ In fact, you got into my car yourself!~”

“Bullshit.”

“You also signed off on some terms and conditions, right before you came to~ Pardon the cut~”

“You made me sign something in blood? Potions? What, are you some kind of dork playing witch?”

“Sure, something like that, if you insist~

“So, did you fucking trip me, or what?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Cammy cutie~”

“Since when have you gotten to call me a fucking nickname, dyke?”

“Since I got you to sign-” I get up, gesturing for Camilla to follow, walking toward where I had set down the contract temporarily.

“This.”

Predictably, she attempts to snatch it. Who could’ve guessed. Remember how I said the seal is damn near impenetrable? Camilla makes a fool of herself proving it.

“You done?”

“Agh, what this fuck is this made of, steel?”

“Just wax. Magically enchanted wax.”

Camilla sighs, out of breath, and deeply annoyed, tossing the scroll of parchment back at me spitefully.

“So, are you going to explain why that ‘magic’ paper matters?”

“Gladly. You see, that paper is a contract, between the two of us, enforced by the arcane power in that scroll, and affirmed by the drop of blood you signed with. Before the potion wore off, you read it over, agreed, and then signed off on it, meaning that both of us, are now bound to its terms. Much like a legal contract, an arcane one also requires what’s known as consideration, the idea that both parties get something out of it.-”

“Tch. And what is it I’m entitled to, exactly?” Camilla smirks, trying to take what little humor she can out of this situation, leveraging her size over me to try to appear intimidating. If she hadn’t just signed a magic contract, and sent me copious blackmail, it might have even worked.

“I was getting to that, cutie~” Camilla visibly recoils at the assertion I find her cute.

“Ew. Am I your type, or something, dyke?”

“As I was saying, you’re entitled to me providing a place to stay, alongside general hospitality. Food, drink, clean clothes, et cetera.”

“Oh, great, a room at the muff-diver motel. Just what I wanted. Thanks, Santa.”

“Whatever you say, Camilla~”