Tiana blinks the two of us to my place, where she left a change of clothes before our date. I do my best to not leer as she begins to slip off her dress, but fail. She catches me looking, and starts going slower.

"We're going to be late..." I groan.

Tiana moves even slower, then, just to tease.

Each bruise and bite is a tantalizing reveal, reminders of what we've done not so long ago. "Would that be so bad?" Tiana asks.

"Yes..." I say, but my eyes haven't left her body. "There's people waiting on us."

"Oh? Darn. I guess I'll have to go faster..." Tiana says.

She blinks backwards out of her clothes. Tiana grins at me. "Oops!"

I scrunch my face, but I can't really be annoyed — and she knows it. Still, I want to make a good first impression. "I'm gonna take a shower, I say, not bothering to quell the amused, exasperated laughter in my voice.

Tiana pouts, and sticks out her tongue. I make a show of turning away and stripping off my shirt, and I hear Tiana's breath stutter even as a wave of unconstrained desire courses through me. Okay, fine. Maybe we can be a little late to this meeting.

Except... We aren't late at all.

It turns out that even a shower quickie left plenty of time for Tiana to teleport us to... a conference room. I face Tiana.

"Uhhh, are you sure that we're shooting a commercial in here?"

Tiana smiles at me, and takes my face in her hands. "You're so cute."

"Huh?"

"It's a concept meeting."

"Ahhhhh," I say, nodding for a long moment before I ask, "And that is...?"

"Didn't Jessica go over this?"

"I... May have been distracted by a certain pair of ne'er-do-wells doing something while I was on the call yesterday."

Tiana laughs. "Oh, right. Well, try to keep it in your pants this time."

I'm about to continue our banter when the door to the room swings open. "Ah, you are here," says an unamused man in his mid-fifties. He's balding and rail thin, with a neatly trimmed goatee whose peppery coloration stands in stark contrast to the salt of the rest of his hair.

He's followed into the room by a brunette wearing leather gloves whose name I swear is 'Stasha', but whose name really cannot be 'Stasha' based on how confused she seems when I say it back to her. Another non-descript guy who just introduces himself as Bob trails after the two.

The unamused guy is some "get" of a director I've never heard of name Peitro Noskov. We're hardly finished shaking hands when Peter starts in.

"So, you're a couple of lesbians or something," he says.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, taken aback.

"Don't be. It's good," Peter says. "But it needs something."

"For the commercial...?" Tiana asks, echoing my own thoughts on the matter.

"Yeah, for the commercial," Peter says. Then he leans in close, smirking. "I think you need a man in there."

"No," Tiana says.

"Okay, but..."

"No," I echo.

"Just..."

"No!" We both shout.

Pietro nods his head. "Good!"

This is the strangest fucking meeting I've ever been in, but maybe this is just the way business works. Except Tiana feels just as fucking mystified as I am by whatever the fuck we just went through.

"Then what the fuck was all that?" I splutter out. So much for making a good first impression.

Pietro shrugs. "Too many people in this town say they're one thing until there's money on the line, and then suddenly they are... Pliable. I have no use for these people, and they are unfortunately very good at camouflaging themselves."

"So this was a bullshit test?" I ask.

"Yes."

I don't know whether to be insulted, but 'Stasha' hands Pietro a portfolio. Pietro unwinds the closure and pulls out a beautiful spread of artwork. "Some sketches of what I think the film could be." 'Stasha' clears her throat. "Advertisement. My English," Pietro corrects.

Something's off, though, and I think I know what it is. "These are amazing," I say, leveling my gaze on 'Stasha'.

She clears her throat and avoids my stare. "Oh, um... Mr. Noskov is very talented."

"I'm sure 'he' is." My eyes flit to Pietro.

Pietro clears his throat. "I must insist—"

"That you silence this woman?"

He shakes his head. "No! Not at all, I—"

"Is this what passes for progress? You take the credit, and she—"

"I don't want to get in trouble," 'Stasha' says, her quiet voice nonetheless slicing through my accusation. "Pietro... He passes. Fewer eyes on him."

I notice how her hands fidget, and understand why she wears the gloves.

I trim my claws short enough that most people don't look twice. Not everyone has the option of hiding, and exposure means scrutiny means the hateful way that this world treats women.

"Fuck." It's all I can think to say.

"Anyway—" I jump slightly as I remember that Bob has been there the whole time. He must be used to it, I guess, because it doesn't phase him. He slides over a thick contract to each of us, and I understand his role, too. "This non-disclosure will—"

I don't hesitate to sign it.

"I'm not outing you," I say. Tiana hesitates for a moment, but signs as well.

"Okay, so..." Bob starts, "Now that the drama's out of the way—"

He doesn't get to finish his statement as the building shakes violently. And then I hear a strange noise like a harp being plucked coming from my right.

I feel the stab of panic and dread racing through Tiana, and I know: she has to go fight. She stands, but I catch her hand before she can blink away.

Tiana looks to me, confused.

"Together?" I ask.

"It's dangerous."

"I know, but... What if I know them? From before, when I was, y'know..."

I feel Tiana's reticence growing, but then it bottoms out — replaced by a sudden, awful surge of shame and doubt. Before I can assure her, I feel myself pulled through space... And into conflict, with my partner.