Maggie Le Editor: No.
Macross Sagittarius: Is Kit all right?
Maggie Le Editor: Still having some trouble connecting. He sent me a selfie from some anime club, and his roomie apparently turned down the fraternity life, but they seem to be having some trouble in the dorms. He just sounds so lonely.
Maggie Le Editor: It’s why I joined BSO in the first place. To show him how to get out of his comfort zone.
Macross Sagittarius: So why would you walk away from it, then? If it’s to set an example for Kit?
It took Maggie a long time to actually type. Then she gritted her teeth, typed quickly, and hit send before she could stop herself.
Maggie Le Editor: I’ve kind of been talking with the guild leader. Like, a lot.
Maggie Le Editor: Like, maybe every night.
Maggie Le Editor: And we text even when we’re not online. During the day.
Maggie Le Editor: Pretty much every day.
There was a long—and in Maggie’s worried opinion, possibly judgmental—pause on Mac’s end.
Macross Sagittarius: Are you two like dating or something?
Maggie Le Editor: GOD, no! He’s like, 20 or something, I think? Maybe 21.
Maggie Le Editor: And you know I don’t date. That’s not something that interests me.
Macross Sagittarius: What interests me is, if I’d asked that about anyone else, you would’ve said “I don’t date” as the FIRST thing. This time it was second.
Macross Sagittarius: Hmm.
Maggie Le Editor: Hmm? What hmm? No! This is not hmm worthy!
Macross Sagittarius: Well, it’s good you’re not dating. Because ick. There’s age differences, and then there’s age differences with someone who’s practically a minor.
Maggie felt nauseated.
Macross Sagittarius: Is he hot?
Maggie Le Editor: I have no idea. I’ve never seen him IRL.
Maggie Le Editor: I’m not horny for him, FFS. I just really like him. He’s my best friend, other than you and Rosita.
Macross Sagittarius: Oh! That’s so cute.
Maggie Le Editor: I will end you.
Macross Sagittarius: It’s even cuter you think you can.
Macross Sagittarius: Sweetie, if you’re just worried because you’ve got a platonic friendship with a guy who’s a lot younger than you, you’re fine. It’s literally no big deal.
Maggie nodded, feeling the knot in her chest slowly release.
Macross Sagittarius: I wouldn’t meet him in IRL though.
Macross Sagittarius: And maybe watch your innuendos?
Maggie Le Editor: Well, there goes half my sense of humor.
She closed Twitter, then sighed. Mac was right. She just had to be careful, and honest with herself. She genuinely cared about Otter, and would do anything to make sure they stayed friends. She needed to make sure she didn’t make anything . . . weird.
So the kid was nice. Emphasis on kid. She just needed to keep it together. Focus on the game, rather than the players. Maybe reframe the relat—friendship, she quickly corrected herself. Keep their interactions in game, rather than live texting and stuff. That was the slippery slope toward . . . well, she wasn’t sure what it was toward, but it couldn’t be anywhere good.
Which, of course, was when her phone pinged. She didn’t even have to glance at it to know it was Otter.
Otter: Hey Boggy. You around?
Maggie: Yup.
Otter: I have a big favor. Can you run the mission on Thursday?
The guys will listen to you. Mouse has a thing he can’t get out of, and he’s stepping down as co-lead anyway.
Maggie smiled, pleased that he trusted her with this. From what she could tell, Blood Saga was one of the biggest things in Otter’s life.
Knock it off, you twit. She frowned at herself, or tried to.
Maggie: Sure thing. You okay? Just busy? Got a date or something?
She winced after she hit send. Got a date? What the hell?
Mac would be so disappointed in her right now. Rightfully so.
Maggie: You should date. Get out there, sow some oats. Enjoy yourself.
She winced again. Did that read as cringe-tastic to him as it did to her?
Stop making this worse!
His response was slow.
Otter: Actually, no. Not really big on dating.
Otter: And especially not right now. Minor fracture in my foot . . . long story.
Otter: Just getting around is a PITA and I’m hobbling around getting food, generally gorked by the meds. Not fun. :（ They make me too sleepy.
Otter: If I feel better, I’ll play, but I don’t think I’m up for leading a big mission. Gandalf can handle healing, but he’s not quite as high leveled, so the rest will probably be grumpy about it. Just tell them I told them to knock it off.
Maggie: You’re adorable. Like I can’t handle the crew if they start bitching.
Maggie: Back up tho. You BROKE YOUR FOOT?
Maggie: What happened?
Otter: was at my Mom’s fixing a bookshelf, dog got in my way, dropped a big board on myself. Could’ve been worse. But yeah, this sucks.
It occurred to Maggie that he was going to community college. They wouldn’t have dorms. She frowned, typing.
Maggie: I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to tell me, but do you live with your Mom? Are you there now? Is she able to help take care of you?
Another long pause.
Otter: It’s kind of complicated. But don’t worry. I can manage.
She took a deep breath. It was the kind of breath you took before jumping off a super-high dive . . . or walked into the woods in the middle of the night in a camping trip . . . or ate something doused in the dubiously named Super Nuclear Face Melter Hot Sauce. It was scary, sort of thrilling, with an undercurrent of “I know this is a poor decision, and yet here we are.”
Maggie: Want me to bring you lunch?
She stared at the words she’d sent. She should take them back. She should block his number. She should uninstall Blood Saga and then possibly move across the country.
Not that he’d even care, right? She prayed that he didn’t care. Hell, maybe he’d think it was weird that he was friends with her, or be repulsed that an old . . .
Otter: I would love some lunch, actually. I was kinda low on groceries, and I just ate tuna out of the can. Which is a clear sign of desperation, amirite?
She couldn’t help but laugh. She wondered if he added mustard, or if he even had any mustard to add. If he was down to naked tuna out of the can, he was truly scraping the bottom of the barrel. She also felt a grudging sense of solidarity. The guy needed lunch.
He needed her.
Otter: But you don’t have to. I mean, if it’s trouble. I can take care of myself.
She blinked. Dammit. Too late now.
What had she done?
Maggie: I’m bringing soup. Just text me your address.
This was foolish. So intensely, ridiculously foolish. But with any luck, she’d see him—and more importantly, he’d see her, in her feral, frumpy, middle-aged glory—and then he’d probably drop their conversations himself. Her heart actually hurt at the thought, and she immediately regretted volunteering. Still, from that standpoint, it was probably a smart move, if she thought about it. She was getting a little squirrelly about Otter. The fact that she was volunteering to take him lunch, to check up on him after being hurt, was definitely foolish.
This is probably going to be a disaster.
With a sigh, she got up and started to get pho ready to travel.