A very annoying sound fills the air, and Lucas groans next to me as I get up, having forgotten that I did not sleep alone in an effort to grab my phone. Part of his groan probably comes from the annoying sound, part of it probably comes because I tripped over him in an effort to grab my phone off my dresser, where it's not. That reminds me that Sivalshi shifted a few hours ago, as we were trying to fall asleep.

"What in the name of Sivalshi is that noise?" He moans as I scramble around the dresser to pick my phone up off the floor.

"The ringtone for the agent assigned to me at the temp agency," I grab the phone. She called right at seven. Did she wait until the earliest possible moment where they're allowed to call people just to be annoying? "Sorry, didn't remember you were here, and I keep it like that to ensure I wake up if she calls, since she can get really bitchy if I don't."

"'S'okay," he tells me as I answer the call.

"Good morning, Hannah."

"Good morning, Mr. Wolfe," her tone is crisp. "I expect a timely response to the call, not for you to answer when it's nearly over. It's not as if you have anything else to do."

"Actually," I tell her. "I intended on calling you when I woke up to let you know that I'll no longer be available after five in the evening. I have signed up for classes every day from six in the evening until eight in order to acquire new skills that will broaden the scope of jobs which I can perform. It's a one-month course, though it may repeat after."

I'm not going to tell her it's for a possible future job, she may try to screw me over with the agency because of that and there's still no guarantee that I'll become a Sivalshi Guardian.

"Hmph," she responds. "I'll make a note of that, Mr. Wolfe. In the future, please inform me before you do such a thing. That would be the responsible thing to do. I have a job for you that runs from eight this morning until four-thirty this afternoon, with a half-hour lunch at noon."

"What's the job?" I ask.

"You're in no position to be picky, Mr. Wolfe," she tells me. "Will you be declining it?"

"I was only wondering so I can mentally prepare myself for it better, so that I'm in a better position to perform the duties upon arrival."

"You will be cold-calling potential customers and attempting to sell product to them," she informs me. "It is at nine-fourteen Twelfth Red Street."

"Twelfth Red Street?" That's about a ten-minute walk from the center. In the opposite direction from here. "Hannah, that's outside of the range on my file. You know I don't take any jobs too far away, and this is the second time this month you've asked me to do so."

Hannah tries this at least twice a month, assigning me a job outside of my range. I stated on my forms that I'm only available for jobs within a thirty-minute walk of here, and always refuse any that are beyond that because I know that as soon as I accept one, she'll start assigning a bunch of them.

Then she notes on my file that I'm 'uncooperative' and 'refusing perfectly good jobs' as a result. I've made several complaints about it, but with how things are, she just gets told not to do it again and things are left at that. Then she tries it again two to three weeks later. Her notes with this results in me getting lower priority for jobs as a result.

"Which agency is it?" Lucas asks.

"Lormant," I answer.

"Who is that?" Hannah asks. "Mr. Wolfe, if you were up late last night due to staying with the wrong crowd, I will need to note on your file that we may need to terminate your contract with us."

"Hang up," Lucas tells me. "Let me grab my phone."

He sits up, and the slight mess of his hair makes him look cute. Curious about what he's doing but trusting him after last night, I hang up and ignore it when Hannah immediately calls me back. He gets up and crawls over to the coffee table, locating his phone on the floor, then grabs it and makes a call, setting it to speakerphone.

When whoever it is fails to pick up, he calls again. On the third try, the call picks up.

"Lucas, it's barely seven in the morning," the voice of a woman who sounds somewhat familiar responds. "I was in the middle of making the perfect coffee at the office. Aren't you normally asleep at this time?"

"Yeah," he answers. "I was staying over at a client's house after helping him with some stuff pretty late. Do you have a Hannah as one of your job assignment agents?"

"Hannah Lawr?" She asks, and he looks at me.

I nod, realizing why I know her voice. That's Abigail Folms, the director of the agency. Lucas has her number?

"Yeah," he answers, putting a finger to his lips to let me know not to speak. "As you know, we use your agency to hire temp workers from time to time, usually janitors when we need the extra hands and our staff are too busy with clients to do the cleaning. I will be informing my grandpa that we need to terminate our contract and will take our services to an agency where agents do not treat clients the way that Hannah has treated Lucas Wolfe. You may review her call with him that ended just before I called you to find out exactly what kind of attitude we do not like. That was me in the background, asking him which agency he received jobs through. You may also cancel his contract with you as well. I'll be taking him to a more reputable agency that actually cares about their clients' restrictions. Have a good day."

He ends the call, then lets out an aggravated breath before giving me an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm a bit grumpy first thing in the morning."

"That 'possibly set you up with something' was temp work as a janitor at the center?" I ask.

"Yeah," he covers his mouth with a hand as he yawns. "We usually need someone at least once or twice as week for about six hours. Only pays twelve an hour, but minimum's still a wage."

"Okay," I say. "Well, all's forgiven if you really do mean what you said. You seem to be going a bit far for a client, Lucas."

"I meant it," he tells me. "Grandpa's been considering switching to this other agency for awhile, anyway. As for why I'm going this far, uh…"

He averts his gaze.

"Uh?" I ask.

"You seem kind of vulnerable," he tells me. "And a pretty nice guy. I've seen people like you get trampled on way too much. That's just how things are with how few jobs there are compared to the population. And maybe I'm a sucker for twink-looking guys with black hair and green eyes, so… that might be clouding my judgment a bit. Don't take it the wrong way, I'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable and will keep things professional at the center. I kind of do want to try to be friends with you, though, and friends don't let friends, y'know, suffer if they can help it."

Wait, so he does have some sort of attraction to me? It's probably sexual, then, just like mine. Nothing romantic. Am I really that appealing, as scrawny as I am?

"I mean," he chuckles. "You were literally concerned about me going home last night, Kieran. It was as if you'd completely forgotten that I could jump over seventy yards of distance at a time. Literally no one before you has ever had that concern before, even among those who had just found out about my ability that day. Night. Whatever."

"It slipped my mind," I feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment at being reminded that he'd probably not have been around long enough for someone to jump him. "Maybe if I'd thought about it, I'd have not been so worried."

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow, and I feel my cheeks burn hotter. "Yeah, the tomato-red cheeks say otherwise, Kieran."

He's right, but I'm not going to admit it. Even after being reminded of it, I still think it's dangerous. If it takes him a few seconds between large jumps, that's a few seconds that someone could jump him if he popped up right beside them. And it only takes a moment to kill. He was tired enough he probably wouldn't have noticed them noticing him, then acting.

"So yeah," he says. "I kind of want to be friends, Kieran, and like I said, friends don't let friends suffer when they don't have to. I'll help you out with the resources you have, and with the job thing, that's just a friend using his connections."

"Thanks," I say. "I'm not… really sure if I'm friend material, though. I mean, I don't even know what friends do. Other than hang out, I mean. But I don't really have anything to do when hanging out, and I'd feel like a shitty friend if you were hosting everything."

"No worries about that," he grins. "There's plenty, and as a friend, I'll introduce you to some of them. Just try not to take some of those the wrong way, yeah? You're cute, but I'm not going to assume you're into me and I'm not going to make a move on you, okay?"

Should I tell him? Or should I let things stay as they are for now, to keep things a bit more comfortable at the center?

"Okay," I tell him, then rub my stomach as it rumbles a little. "I think I should eat breakfast. Or, uh, we."

"I'm going to take a guess and say you don't know how to cook breakfast?"

"You would guess correctly."

"Let's do something simple," he walks into the kitchen. "So we can head to the agency office and get you set up with something new… if you're interested in continuing with an agency while you're doing this training?"

"I kind of am," I answer. "Just in case, y'know."

"Alright," he opens up the fridge and pulls a few things out.

Lucas prepares two bowls with vanilla yogurt, nuts that came chopped, blueberries, and then strawberries and bananas that he slices, before serving one to me and keeping the other for himself. We eat, then rinse out the bowls and set on the dirty dish side of the sink, then he asks if I have paper and something to write with.

"Yeah," I open up a drawer in the coffee table and pull out a piece of paper and a pen, then he sits on the couch and starts writing. "Oh, right, the recipe."

"Yeah," he tells me. "All you need to do is mix up the sauce, then put everything into the slow cooker on low before you leave for training. Switch it over to warm when you return, cook up some rice, then serve the two together."

"Okay."

It takes him a few minutes to write up the full recipe, including how to cook the rice in a pot on the stove and how to reheat everything properly. Once he finishes, he stands and stretches.

"Ready to head out?"

"Yeah," I say, then pause for a moment. "Thanks, Lucas."

"No problem," he smiles at me, and I feel my heart flutter a little.

Am I falling for him?

Lucas and I leave, our walk silent, our hoods up, our breaths fogging on the air. I'm kind of curious about why Sivalshi decided to give us a proper freezing winter this year, especially since it means a lot of people will be extra-cold at night. Those who have working heaters or someone to snuggle under the blanket probably won't be affected too much. Not if they're as warm as I was last night with Lucas's body heat added to my own, trapped under those three layers.

But then there are people like me, who don't have a working heater in their apartment, can't afford a space heater, and don't have someone to snuggle under a blanket for warmth with. Maybe I should invest in a brand-new blanket, one that's thick and comfy and will help me stay warmer? I should probably buy a jacket to wear over my hoodies, too, for the extra warmth when out and about.

The walk to the agency Lucas is leading me to takes nearly an hour, and it's on the twelfth floor of the office building we arrive at. The receptionist at the front desk on the first floor initially refuses us entry since we don't have appointments but as soon as Lucas introduces himself properly, she makes a call and is told to send us up.

"I wasn't aware the people who ran the center was so famous in the area," I mutter as we enter the elevator.

"Not famous, so much as having connections," he says. "We're the best center for training powers in the lower districts this side, so several companies pay for their employees to train there to keep their skills up. We're also right by the border to the middle districts, too, and get some customers from there, including businesses doing the same."

"There are companies that hire people for their abilities?" I ask as we step out of the elevators. "Sorry, it's just… I was under the impression most people want to ignore the fact that we exist."

"Oh, they do," he shrugs. "Except when it comes to things like vigilantes. But that's for the common person. Plenty of companies can see the point in them. Not ones like the shops and call centers you've been called to work for, though."

"What kind of jobs do power users get?" I ask.

"Depends on the power," he answers as he opens the door for me to enter the office. "There's one guy who comes to the center whose ability is to generate flames. His main one, anyway. He gets paid to heat-test things because it's much cheaper than the cost for electricity or gas for the same thing. I think he's paid thirteen an hour. Not much more than minimum, but it's a job and what can be afforded."

"Ah," I try to think over things my power could be used for. "Can't really think of something for me, other than, y'know. Security work."

It would be easy to catch up to someone if I just shadow-walk to them, which might be why the Patron wants me, now that I think about it. It would be much better if I'd been training since I discovered the ability, though, rather than… since last night. Assuming the spellsuit I get moves with me since it's magic created by a god-like being, I won't have to worry about popping up naked, either.

"Deliveries," Lucas says.

"Deliveries?" I ask as we stop at the desk.

"Yeah," he answers. "I sometimes ran deliveries when I was younger, just for some extra cash. When you can travel a couple hundred feet at a time, carrying someone's food with you, with only a few seconds between movements? They get their food hot and fresh every time!"

That seems pretty useful, now that I think about it. His customers were probably pretty pleased.

"Anyway," he says. "We're here now, so why don't you get signed up with this company, and I'll do my thing? We'll probably finish at different times, so I'll see you tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah," I answer. "I said the training was at six, yeah?"

"Yeah," he answers. "So I'd suggest ending your availability at four rather than or five. It will give you time to get home, do quick prep for dinner on days you need to, then head off. Also get a snack so you aren't training on an empty stomach."

"Okay," I say. "Thanks for the help, Lucas."

"No worries," he grins. "Just make sure not to waste it."