Sam

  In the end, everyone but the chimps agreed to play.

  "Does anyone actually remember the rules to this game?" Sam asked, "because it's kind of fuzzy for me. I haven't played truth or dare since I was a kid back on Earth, so most of it has gone right out of my head."

  "I suppose it might be best if we go over it thoroughly," Mags replied, "especially for the benefit of our resident troll."

  Sam nodded.

  Mags took it upon herself to do the explaining. "All right Gug, here's the deal. Truth or dare is a sort of party game where you take turns doing what someone else asks you to. So at the start of the game, one person is 'it'—the one who has to do something—and another person is the asker. The 'it' person picks either truth or dare. If they pick truth, the asker will pose one question to the 'it' person, and they have to answer honestly.

  "If they pick dare, the asker gets to choose one challenge for the 'it' person to carry out. Both the questions and the dares can be anything the asker wants, really, as long as it's not too extreme, but typically it would be something a bit embarrassing or saucy."

  "This is a game for good friends?" Gug asked.

  Mags nodded, smiling. "That's exactly right, Gug. It's a game that helps people get closer to each other."

  Gug hastily set his things aside so he could draw his huge legs up to his chest. He scooted a bit closer to the fire, eyes huge. "I think I will like this game very much," he said.

  "Glad to hear it," Mags replied. "Now, if the 'it' person can't or doesn't want to do what they've been asked, they have to do a punishment game. Like a slap on the wrist for not playing by the rules."

  "Rules are important," Gug agreed, nodding sagely.

  "Very true, Gug. To continue, once the 'it' person has answered their question or completed their challenge, they now become the asker. Typically, that person then spins a bottle on the ground, and whoever the bottle is pointing to when it stops becomes 'it'. And you go on and on like that until you're sick of playing."

  "I don't think we should go with the bottle rule," Mongrel said, propped up against a mossy rock and picking at a bit of gristle between his crooked teeth. "No offense, lady, but I've seen you move shit without touching it, and I don't trust you not to cheat."

  "A prudent precaution," Mags said. "I am an absolutely incorrigible cheater, after all. In that case, the asker can just pick who becomes 'it', though I think we should add the stipulation that you can't pick the person who went just before you, so that the whole group gets more chances to play. More fun that way."

  "Sounds good," Sam agreed.

  Mongrel nodded.

  No one had any objections, so those were the rules they went with.

  "I can be 'it' to start with," Mags offered, wiggling her shoulders contentedly. "Sam, why don't you start as the asker? I'll go with truth, please."

  "All right," Sam said, clearing her throat. She had a lot of questions she wanted to ask this woman. "How was it that you managed to beat the sheriff without using any AP?"

  The older woman watched Sam silently from across the fire for several moments, chewing on her answer. "I used several skills," she eventually replied, "but I suppose you could say the main one was a skill called Compress. As for how I could do it without spending any AP, that was thanks to an Entertainer passive called Perfect Rhythm. I think that's enough of an explanation for now."

  "Right." All that meant nothing to Sam. She glanced over at Mongrel. The old man shrugged. He didn't know either.

  "My turn!" Mags exclaimed happily. She pointed a foot at Gug, bright-lacquered clog hanging off her toes. "I choose you, big guy."

  "Yes!" the troll shouted, practically bouncing up and down. "I want… hmm… how to choose…? Dare! No, truth! Yes, most indubitably truth!"

  "Good choice." Mags kicked her foot lightly in the air, wooden shoe swinging back and forth. "Given the minor miracle of your very existence, I'm going to take a stab and assume that you're from the Sanctuary. That being said, how's your father doing?"

  Gug's glee all seemed to leak out of him at that. "Dunno," he said, hugging his legs tighter. "I ran away from home."

  "I see. What a shame."

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  "What does that mean?" Sam asked. "What's the Sanctuary?" She looked between Mags and the troll. "Do you know Gug's father?"

  Mags shrugged. "That's his story to tell, I think, not mine."

  Sam looked up at Gug, but the troll shrank further into himself, hiding half his face behind his knees and peeking furtively over them. It didn't seem like he wanted to talk about his past. Maybe he felt guilty about running away. It was a shame—she really would have liked to know where Gug came from—but it couldn't be helped.

  "Besides," Mags continued, "it's not your turn, silly!" She waved her foot more insistently in Gug's direction. "Who you pickin', big fella?"

  The troll unfurled just a little. "I choose Best Friend Sam," he said in a small voice, which still sounded like a low bass rumble.

  "You got it," Sam said. "I'll go with…" She bit her lip, thinking it over. "I'll go with truth as well, I think."

  "Okay. Then I will ask the following question: who is your best friend?"

  Sam knew a leading question when she heard one, and she guessed that Gug had a specific answer in mind. Though it pained her a bit, she decided that she couldn't lie to him. "His name is Will," she said. "You haven't met him yet, but you will soon. He's really smart. Maybe not as much of a genius as you, but almost."

  "Oh." Gug stared into the ground for a while with a deep frown. "I understand."

  "Me and Will are boyfriend and girlfriend. Do you know what that means?"

  Gug nodded. "It means you do hugging and kissing and stuff."

  "That's right."

  "And sex."

  "Uh… yeah."

  "Thank you for your answer. The best friend of Best Friend Sam must be a very good person. I am excited to meet him."

  "I'm sure he's going to love you." Sam looked over the group assembled around the fire to figure out who she wanted to choose next. "I think I'll go with you again, Mags."

  "Sweet. Give me a dare."

  "Hmm…" Sam had hoped she'd pick truth and give Sam the chance to learn something about her. "In that case, I dare you to arm wrestle me."

  "Ho-ho, now we're talking!" Mags rolled to her feet in one lithe motion, one boob momentarily flopping free before she stuffed it absently back in her shirt.

  They set up on a flattish rock at the edge of the clearing that held their camp, and Sam clasped hands with the older woman. The grin Mags wore reminded Sam a lot of Nyx, which she figured couldn't be a good sign.

  Sam won easily. The Artisan was a good enough sport about it, laughing it off as she returned to her seat, but after the power Sam had seen Mags wield, she couldn't shake the feeling that the other woman had lost on purpose.

  Mags chose Oatmeal, and the youth instantly stiffened as attention turned on him. He went for a dare.

  "All right, all right, all right," Mags said with a sinister little laugh. "In that case… I want you to go and kiss that pretty young thing over there." She waved dismissively toward Price. "With tongue, if you don't mind."

  Even in the deep-colored firelight, Sam could tell that Oatmeal was blushing. He stammered out something incomprehensible probably meant to be an excuse, then cleared his throat, then glanced furtively over at the hard-bitten mercenary to gauge her interest.

  Price remained perfectly stone-faced as she eyed him in return. Her longsword, which she never seemed to let out of her sight, was cradled snugly in the crook of her arm.

  Sam had to commend the lad on his guts as he rose to his feet and slowly padded over to the seated woman. "Um, I, the rules say—ahem, the rules say I have to do this, so…" With that, he leaned down, eyes half-closed and lips puckered.

  The only thing he got to kiss was the pommel of Price's sword. He went sprawling on his back, squealing in pain. Sam helped the poor lad up and brushed the dirt off his clothes.

  Mags and Mongrel were all laughs over Oatmeal's misfortune. "Well, you did your best, and that's what matters," Mags said. "All right, kiddo, who're you wanting?"

  Sucking on his split upper lip, Oatmeal pointed sullenly at Mongrel. "I'll go with you."

  "Truth," Mongrel replied with petulant confidence.

  "What's the thing you miss most about Earth? Like a food or a place—anything."

  The old man got quiet at that. "My son, I reckon," he said after a while.

  "Oh," Oatmeal said.

  Mongrel blew a limp raspberry. "His name was… Eric. It was Eric. I took off on him and his mom when he was only a tiny thing. Couldn't handle the responsibility, I guess. I tried to make amends years later, but too much time had passed by then. He didn't come to the hospital when I lay dying. I remember that stung bad at the time, but now I'm glad he didn't come. I hope he's living a good life, and that he's forgotten all about me."

  "At least you know what you did was wrong, and you learned from it," Sam said, trying to sound upbeat. "You've been doing a pretty good job taking care of Will, haven't you?"

  "I kept him around 'cause he was useful," Mongrel said dismissively. "Nothing altruistic about it."

  "I don't believe that."

  Mongrel snorted. "Believe what you want, kid. Doesn't make it true." He sighed and looked up from examining his yellowed nails. "All right, genius, let's do you."

  "Okay!" Gug said. "Then I will request a dare."

  Mongrel pointed to a red pepper in what was left of a skillet stir fry sitting by the fire. "Eat that."

  "But… I don't like crunchy."

  "It's been fried, genius. It's not crunchy."

  "But I don't like spicy, either."

  "That's why it's a dare."

  Gug put a finger in the air. "A wise man once told me: 'Don't eat your vegetables'."

  "You're definitely misquoting that," Sam said.

  Gug was eventually forced to admit defeat. He plucked the greasy pepper off the skillet and slowly, slowly put it to his mouth, then bared his teeth and slowly, slowly bit down on it. He bit off the red part, let the green stem fall away, and slowly, slowly chewed.

  "That's not so bad," he said thoughtfully, gazing up at the starry night sky while his muscled jaws worked. "It doesn't really taste like much."

  Mongrel cracked an evil grin. "Give it a minute."