Page 8 of Simon Says

Her head jerked to the right.

“What is it?” Simon asked.

“You do no’ hear that?”

He stopped. “No. I don’t hear anything.”

She pushed him away and began fighting the sleeping bag for room to right her clothing. “Humans,” she said in exasperation. “’Tis a wonder you’ve survived, being practically deaf and all.”

Taking her word for it, Simon began adjusting his clothing to be presentable just in case. “What do you hear?”

“Vehicle. Jeep, I think. ’Tis probably Sven.”

“Sven?”

“I told you someone would be bringin’ me supplies.”

“You did. You just didn’t say it was a guy named Sven.”

The frantic clothes-donning frenzy came to an abrupt halt.

“What is that?”

“What?”

“That thing you’re doin’. Is that jealousy?” He said nothing. “Great Paddy. It is! I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m not jealous, Sorcha,” he lied. “I just don’t like being caught with pants down and somebody called Sven bearing down on us with…” he stopped and listened, “what sounds like single-minded eagerness to get here.”

“So you can finally hear him comin’. A good two minutes behind me. If Sven was a large predator, you’d be pushin’ daisies. Know that, human?”

“Yet, as you pointed out, somehow we’ve managed to survive and become the most populous species on the planet.”

“I would no’ be braggin’ about that if I were you.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause look how you’re misusin’ the power of numbers.”

That was a point he couldn’t argue with. “You’re an environmentalist. I can appreciate that. So am I.” She made a belligerent scoffing noise. “What was that?”

“’Twas disbelief in the form of a snortin’ sound.”

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?”

“Most girls don’t own up to stuff like that. They do passive aggressive bullshit.”

“I’m no’ a girl. I’m an fae. And a fully grown one at that.”

Simon grinned salaciously. “Agreed.”

“Do no’ try to distract me with your very charmin’ smile when I’m tryin’ to say that all the packaged stuff you have in your backpack is usin’ up valuable resources that will end as toxic gas in landfill. In short, gods save us from your sort of environmentalism.”

He wanted to argue, but realized that she didn’t have anything with her that was either made from petroleum products or packaged in stuff made from petroleum products.

They managed to free themselves from the sleeping bag, more or less dressed, but plainly disheveled just as the Jeep was pulling up.