Private - The World's Greatest Lovers | Page 3

Muscle? Iván turned to his arms, where his biceps would be. It took him a second or two, but he finally got what she meant. If what he got was what she truly meant. Oh, does she mean because of the running? I didn't really move much, just a step or two. Everything else was aeromancy. Before he could explain himself, however, they were interrupted by the evil henchman sheriff dude. And the rest was history. All less than an hour of it.

Iván could do nothing else but tilt his head in confusion, caught surprised by @Portia Ahrens' answer to his joke of a question. Was she teasing him? Did she want him to kiss her? Kissing her had never crossed Iván's mind. Not seriously. But that never meant he didn't want to kiss her. Did he really want a kiss from her? She was pretty and quite admirable. Despite feeling a little tired earlier, she still pushed through with the quest, the mission. That's some kind of determination right then and there, something he could appreciate. He also liked the way she laughed and the way she smelled and... We're in the middle of a fight.

With Portia jumpstarting the fight, the ensuing chaos, Iván was left no choice but to act as well. She was doing her best to take out as many guards as she could. He had to do something, too. Brandishing his hammer, he started wailing on the guards he could, the guards closest to him. He wasn't that great with fighting at close range, but he wasn't that bad, either. Besides, his hammer didn't need precision. It just needed him to find a face to smash and let the hammer do all the work with smashing that face. And that was what Iván did, laughing maniacally, and seemingly enjoying knocking guards out cold with a swing or two. It was the most fun he's had for weeks.

"Time to go to sleep, m'bois!" Iván surprisingly plowed through the guards that mistakenly went for him, the armor he had stolen from that other guard in the castle, the one Portia had knocked out, helping him resist the few lucky slices that caught him. None of those slashes were strong enough, precise enough, to deal any real damage. The guards all seemed to fear his hammer, which was smart, considering it was taking care of anyone who came too close to Iván. "You're not allowed to stay up late. It's already...hammer time!"

Iván smashed some more faces as the soldiers, the guards, screamed in fear at this crazy dude. From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of someone being tied up, brought to her knees on the ground. At first, he didn't know who it was or why it was. That was, until he heard her voice. Portia? He was momentarily distracted, which a brave soldier capitalized on. Unfortunately, the guy, young and quite inexperienced, hit the hammer's head instead of the handle or even Iván's hand. That only served to snap the illusionist out of the distraction.

With one eyebrow raised, Iván stared at the guy, seemingly confused as to why he did what he did. Wouldn't it have been easier to just pierce Iván's face? Granted, Iván would've have probably seen it coming, but at least it was a good try. Striking the hammer's head was a terrible try. Iván shook his head at the soldier who swallowed air, completely aware of his own stupidity. In a matter of seconds, he was sent flying, along with the rest of the soldiers that were close by, courtesy of Iván's aeromancy.

Once more, his attention was grabbed by Portia screaming something. His name? Iván felt himself grow furious at her getting manhandled by another man. I'm the only MAN that's allowed to HANDLE that woman!

"SUMMONING MAGIC!" Iván screamed, one hand, his right, directed at Portia's captor, fingers spread, glowing with the energy and power of his magic. From out of nowhere, right in front of him, Snowy the Snow-Quilled Guardian materialized and immediately came charging towards Portia's direction. A few soldiers tried to stop the magical familiar that had taken on the form of the Spire's hot springs guardian but they were no match for his piercing quills and monstrous determination.

There was a serious scowl on Iván's face as he watched Snowy plow through the soldiers, fully intending to free Portia by charging at her captor like a speeding train. The fury in his voice was met with pride. He admonished him, them, at the top of his lungs, "You're in for it now, you evil henchmen guard du---" Someone's tightly clenched fist made made contact with his super soft face. Hard. From his left.

Iván was knocked out right then and there.

 

What The Hell Are We Doing In Here

Hidden: theme

​

Portia had mastered her uneven breathing by the time her companion noticed she was the first to fall, surprise glinting in her golden gaze at the sudden explosion of energy and emotion directed her way, at her captors rather than herself. Did he care that much about her well-being...? What a stupid question to ask. Of course he did. If she died, he would have to face the old man all on his own and fight his way to freedom all by himself, and only his purple god knew how well that would end.

Her face was stern despite the bruise on her light skin and the split lip that the most recent hit had gifted her, the dirty nails of a stranger digging into her face as she tried to pull away from his touch, forced to watch the scene before her. Try as she might, though, she couldn't get off her bindings. She tried using what leverage she had left in her lower body, but it was to no avail, the soldier holding her down was far larger and stronger than she was, and it was infuriating.

When her partner finally fell, his summon nowhere to be seen, the woman jerked forward and flexed against the rope around her wrists. If only she could move her body however she desired she would not mind blasting these fools with some arcane spells of her own, unstable as they might be. ''You damned cowards... The lot of you!'' There was enough of a bite beneath her last words that some soldiers stiffened. Without further comment that could fuel the fire burning inside her lungs, they turned around and carry their wounded back to safety, a little group remaining to see the two adventurers to their destination with no complications.

''Someone shut her up,'' commanded someone whom she couldn't see since he stood behind her, the only hint that could separate him from the rest being his voice. Waving one of his lackeys closer to the still conscious prisoner was the person she had threatened earlier that day during her visit to the village's prison, pride clear on his tone at this little victory of his. The last thing she saw out of the corner of her vision was how Iván was picked from his place on the ground and carried away, slung over someone's shoulder in the most undignified way possible.
And she knew no more.

It wasn't the dawn what awoke her, but rather a loud noise echoing from not too far away. Forcing her eyes open, she groaned and attempted to sit up, inhaling sharply through gritted teeth at the burning sensation of her skin under her armor. Standing in front of her, behind the metal bars that separated her position from the man's, was the jailer with his keys on hand. This time around, the roles were reversed: he would not hand over the keys and open the doors for them to walk free; he was comfortable where he stood, confident, with a lazy grin plastered on his face.

''You ain't going nowhere, lovebirds...''

Although it seemed that every outsider had taken a liking to calling them by such embarrassing nicknames, her priorities were somewhere else. What they were referred to as couldn't be one of her bigger concerns at the moment, no when her head was still spinning and she had such a hard time making sense of what had transpired in the forest, all her memories from their fight against the guards blurred.

The jailer left after witnessing the look of distress the brawler offered, kicking the metallic door that divided their territories. There was no noblewoman who would come to save her, and she didn't care that perhaps she was hurting herself further by struggling against the inevitable. Pushing herself off the ground despite her wounds - or at least trying to - brought a sudden revelation to the prisoner, sending her stumbling backward and landing on her rear. Thankfully, she didn't land on top of Iván, which should've been an expected outcome judging by how they were now bound to one another physically, not metaphorically.

How come she hadn't noticed him earlier? They were one next to the other on the floor, the only difference is that she woke up with her back turned to him, cuffs around their wrists making it impossible not to move without having to face the consequences of dragging an extra person around, clearly limiting her movement. ''Hey, wake up,'' Portia scowled and attempted to call out for him, but the sheer effort of trying to speak made her head pound with an ache she only knew before losing consciousness. Remembering that he was hit in a similar fashion before they were arrested, she brought herself closer to her friend, kneeling right next to his side. ''Goddammit...''

There was no masking the concern on her features, nor the relief that dawned on her when she saw Iván's wounds to be different than her own. He'd become quite the strong fighter while they were apart, something she would never be able to share. He could fend for himself, would probably be better if he took this mission on his own rather than picking a feverish adventurer as his companion. A faint smile curled its way onto her lips, reaching out a hand to draw his hair away from the spot he'd been hit at, looking for any hints that might offer some insight on his current condition.

 

His face hurt. That much was obvious. Some other parts of his body stung, too, but nothing as painful as his jaw. What happened? He got punched right in the face, knocked out in a split second, right in the middle of his badass line. Okay, so maybe it wasn't exactly badass, but it was supposed to be very threatening. Mildly threatening? Looks the honeymoon was over before it could even begin.

Iván groaned, completely out of it, "Wha-? What happened?" He knew what had happened. His brain was just reeling from getting shutdown right away. It was still trying to make sense of where he was, why he was, how he was, what he was supposed to do next. Acting on instincts alone, Iván swiftly got up from where he was lying down. At least he tried to, using his arms to support his attempt to get to at least a sitting position. If only @Portia Ahrens' lips weren't on the way.

Alas, they were. It took Iván a second or two to realize what was happening. He was trying to get up, to get himself seated upright, when somewhere along the way, he was stopped, through his lips, by another pair of lips, soft and...pink? He blinked incessantly. He had never felt anything like it before. His words could not describe how exhilarating and confusing it was all to him. He had never thought he'd actually like the sensation, but there he was, caught unmoving, eyes wide open, as if time had stopped all around them, all around him.

Swallowing air, Iván closed his eyes and further savored the unexpected kiss, his first in the game, his first ever, oblivious to how fated, destined, it seemed that it was with Portia, quite debatably his first friend in the game, who was present during his first mission for his first and only faction, his first failure, his first death with his first expedition... That was a lot of firsts. It seemed only natural that he would experience another first with her, if every first, judging by the way how everything was fast unfolding.

Iván slowly, carefully, put a hand on the side of her face, caressing her soft cheeks, slowly, carefully, finding its way to the back of her neck, supporting her head as he moved his own forward, as he found his way to sit himself upright, eyes closed, their lips pressed against each other throughout. Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes as he slowly, carefully, moved his lips away from hers, a gentle smile on his face. He didn't want to. He wished he, they could've stayed like that for a longer a time, but there were certainly more pressing matters to attend to.

"Where are we?" He looked around them, disappointment creeping on his face, annoyance more likely, when he realized he was back to square one, back to where Portia had found him, rotting in a cell in the middle of nowhere in a no-name town not a lot of people knew about.

Only this time, he was in a cell with someone else, handcuffed to someone else, only noticing the latter when he tried to move his other hand and felt something around it. It didn't take Iván long to trace the other end of those cuffs. He was handcuffed to Portia. Blushing, he swallowed air, remembering how they had bound her earlier, how they had forced her on the ground, "Are you okay? How long was I out?"

 

It was the groan that caught her unaware of his condition, the factor that drove her to distraction and allowed a chain of special events to happen. In a hushed tone, soft enough to only grace his ears with her voice, she tried to tell him to stay where he was, not to move because it might make his injuries worse than they probably were, and when he didn't listen, she found herself unable to react in time, unable to stop his face from coming closer to hers and sealing their distance with a much-unexpected twist to the bond they shared.

After all they'd endured as partners in crime, adventurers, friends, here they were: their lips brushing at a slow pace, mere inches apart from each other, alone in the dark, in the same cell she'd found him in. A dangerous situation if anyone were to look at it from the outside, and now that she could reflect on it while it was still happening, she would agree with them. Her heart caught on her throat and her eyes fluttered closed instinctively as she returned his kiss, drowning her thoughts with theories as to how or why this had happened.

This Queen values a Knight who is brave enough to steal a kiss from his beloved if he so wants it...​

He didn't have to do it, yet he did it anyway, pulling her even deeper into the unknown, shock glinting in the gold of her gaze and red dusting across the high point of her cheeks. So terrified she was of the sudden warmth coursing through her veins as he laid his bare hand on her face, deepening their union that she barely knew how to control the wild pounding of her heart against her own chest. Certainty filled her mind that, in the silence that engulfed everything around the pair, he might hear it, he might know what sort of reaction he was causing on her.

This wasn't anything the two of them were expecting. A change that hit them suddenly but one they welcomed regardless the circumstances. When he broke away, Portia sat back on the ground, completely stunned, eyes wild with something reminiscent of panic, even fear. All throughout the aftermath she realized she could've stopped him, could've pushed him away and unleashed a flurry of punches against him, but she didn't.

''I just woke up,'' she finally said, her voice a husky murmur that betrayed the emotions her face tried to hide from her... whatever Iván now was to her, ''The jailer was here too, and he was pretty welcoming. I... I think we are alone. For now. Haven't heard a sound ever since he left, but I could be wrong.'' Portia then faltered into silence, blushing only harder after trying to move her hand and realizing it would only make her fingers brush against his. What did anyone say in this situation? Because no matter how easy they warmed up to one another, how seemingly simple it was for them to initiate this sort of intimate contact, her head felt at a complete loss, returning back to the dizziness it felt back at the castle while he held her on his arms.

Iván had been acting in a manner she could never recognize of him, of the masked adventurer she'd become so very used to through all the adventures they shared. They chose another job and she'd expected it to unfold as it normally did, ending with both of them smiling at their no-longer-emptied pockets. Looking back at everything that'd happened, it only made the doubts flow at a steady pace, and she'd never been known for stopping her curiosity. ''Are you alright? You've been acting strange and I meant to ask earlier but... I couldn't.'' Chewing on her bottom lip proved not to be too much of a good idea either, seeing as how the moist sensation left in them only served to remind her of their kiss, a situation she was struggling to wrap her mind around. ''Your attitude back at the forest and then... Then...''

 

"That's good," Iván muttered. If they were really alone, just the two of them, they could formulate a plan to get out of there, quickly and more efficiently. If he had just been alone, all on his own, he wouldn't have minded getting trapped in that cell for weeks on end, months even. But he was with someone, someone else, and he felt that that someone, @Portia Ahrens, didn't deserve to get locked up in that purple god-forsaken cell with him, and him alone.

In a way, Iván actually enjoyed getting locked up in a cell. At least this one time. Despite the evil henchman sheriff dude being such a huge butthole, he did have so many stories, and Iván found some sort of delight listening to them regardless of how disinterested he portrayed himself to be. Working in his Curry House was a blessing in disguise, too, as he was able to surround himself with interesting characters without making so much effort. In the real world, any sort of socializing that involved him required a lot of effort in his part. In this world, he had the advantage of being someone else, someone more interesting than he truly was.

He was checking out his jaw, massaging it, so to speak, with one hand, when he was forced to turn to Portia at the sound of confusion in her voice, "Yeah, I'm fine. What about you?"

His own safety, his own self, was not his main concern at the moment. Alone, Iván could survive. He had faced worse than a cell after all. He knew himself. He was a survivor. He could live on his own. From obsessing over his purple god to contracting Zalrisis during a misguided attempt to get a second meeting with said god, Iván had endured a lot, if not all, more than anyone else could care to even imagine. He had surprisingly found himself around, part of so many things at once, a side effect of his unsatiable hunger to find more information about that purple god, that he grew to become someone who was both self-sufficient and pretty much creative in how he survived things, lived through them, coped and adapted instead of perishing, dying and coming back, each time a better if not more learned person.

"Strange? Strange how?" For all his eccentricities, Iván never really saw himself as anything more than a confused little man, barely surviving, if not for the blessing of his purple god, if not for his sheer luck. He was a survivor, yes, but more often than not, he was more a survivor because of his circumstances, not because he was some sort of genius when it came to adapting, coping, moving on. He just had to survive. He knew it to be true. Nothing else ever meant anything to him, more that surviving did to him. Until now.

Those eyes... Her eyes... He felt anchored by them, by how familiar, and in turn how comfortable, they were to him. He had died too many times. All because he was curious. She was there, Portia was, before he ever died. She was there, on the day he died the first time. She was also there, after his first death. Each time, he reminded him that death was nothing to fear. So long as he'd see her, he'd come back to her, he'd come back to everything else as if they had never changed, only they did. Nothing remains the same. Everything would always find a way to change. But those eyes, her eyes, they seemed like they had never changed. For him, anyway.

From the first time he arrived in this world to this exact moment in time, Portia had always been there. So close, yet so far. The lone constant in his world that seemed to make the most sense. He felt his heart skip a beat. Her eyes. Her lips. Her heart. If there was anything he felt he could protect, would be worth his protection, it would be her. He can't die again. He shouldn't. He has to live this time. He has to stay. For her.

 

''Could be better, but I'll heal,'' and it wasn't uncertainty what was mixed in her tone but sheer disappointment. To hear him ask after she clearly meant to talk about the kiss they just shared made her feel quite disheartened, discouraged at the knowledge that maybe, to her partner, it meant nothing but a stupid coincidence which he could forget about with ease. For all her initial thoughts about punching him or setting some distance between the two, the only fact that offered comfort was the knowledge he wasn't currently able to see her face. Two could play this game of pretending nothing had ever happened, no matter how much she wanted to do the exact opposite.

''For starters... You worried about me,'' the words came out faster than she'd expected them to. Unable to meet her partner's gaze, unable to turn around and catch a glimpse of the green of his eyes, she remained still while she pushed herself off the ground and into a seating position, her body offering resistance given the wound she'd received from the swordsman during their encounter with the guards. ''And no, before you start, I don't think it was bad but there was something... Off, something I couldn't put into words. When I dealt with the guards who found us while you rested for a bit, you came rushing after me right after I gave you the signal to come out.''

Thinking back on all the experiences they shared, on every turn and twist of the story the two of them wrote whenever they met for a different job, there was never a time in which she'd seen Iván act this particular way. Portia recognized in him a different man than the one she always knew him to be when they were around others, she actually felt him, and it caught every panicked thought of the female by surprise. Earlier in the tavern, she met his more playful side, one that she was already used to from all the times they'd interacted with one another; but at the castle's wall, before and after climbing, there was concern in his eyes whenever he looked at her. Portia wondered if he secretly saw her as a crystal figurine who would break if she wasn't handled with appropriate care.

And, surprising as it might be, the thought alone was enough to pain her more than the wound staining her armor with tiny droplets of blood. Right then and there, as her hand was pressed against her side and a pained groan left her lips in response, the brawler realized it was too late to stop herself from reaching out, from asking all these different questions and setting her heart at ease. ''I don't even know what I am talking about, but these are the doubts I won't keep to myself even when every part of my body is begging me to shut up.'' The woman fell back onto her elbows, finally recognizing the swordsman got her good with that slash. ''What has you so distracted?''

What has me so distracted?
​

If there was one thing she knew about herself better than the other parts that composed the entirety of her being, it was her unyielding determination. No matter the cost, no matter how difficult the situation might be nor how far from her grasp it could be, once she settled her mind on a specific topic or objective, there was nothing in the world that could stop her from completing it. As she settled on the ground and closed her eyes for far longer than mere seconds, her lips parted. Portia was ready for yet another question, yet it didn't come out of her lips, seemingly caught in her throat by the fear of what his response might be.

Do you doubt me? My abilities, my company?​

 

"That's good to hear," Iván flashed @Portia Ahrens a smile, somewhat weaker than the others he had shown her, or maybe it was just deeper, more feeling than he never thought he could have, less practiced fancy, rehearsed appreciation of the obvious, the shallow, the taken for granted. He was genuinely, sincerely, glad that Portia was confident enough about things getting better. She would heal, yes, that wound and their current predicament. There was always going to be a way out, a way towards a better tomorrow, a better future. Or something along those lines.

There was something about the way she had said what she said that made Iván feel a little concerned, though. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but he sensed that something was not right. His hands started to find their way back to her face, carefully adjusting it so their eyes could meet. Iván stared into Portia's soul, looking for something, perhaps the answer to satiate his curiosity, to curb his confusion. Was she truly okay? Was she still hurt from what had happened? Did any of them make her suffer more than what she deserved?

"Oh," Iván let her face go, turning towards the bars of the cell, as he sat beside her, narrowing his eyes, his mind wandering, drowning in unnecessary thoughts. "Should I not worry about you?" She was his oldest friend. She was the one he could remember the most, having experienced a lot of firsts in this world with her, even at least from the corner of his eyes. Portia felt like his anchor, his home, someone he could look at, talk to, and make him feel like everything was going to be okay.

He listened to her every word, taking the time to really understand what she was getting at. Even after everything was said and done, he still couldn't perfectly read Portia's mind. He could never do that. He would never want to. That would be too much, an invasion of her privacy, and Portia deserved more than getting her safest of places barged into by someone else, someone uninvited. "What has me distracted?" Iván repeated her question, not certain why he did so but perhaps if only to hear the words from his own mouth.

Why he distracted? Or was he simply just trying to be better than he ever was, than he ever could? Was there any difference at all? He has died more than once, more than necessary, both times gifting with strange circumstances, both blessings and curse. Should he tell her about the purple god, the Absolver, that was in his head? Could she understand, that despite that obsession, he wasn't crazy? He was still sane? Maybe he wasn't, though. Maybe he was crazy. At the very least, he needed to be calmer, to be more in touch with his feelings, his emotions, in order to fully understand them, to keep them in check, considering he has the crystal curse, Zalrisis.

Despite all that, though, he managed to smile once again, once more. Leaning back against the cell wall behind them, feeling the cold of that stone against his flesh. Chuckling, he sighed, "I guess you, then. You have me distracted. In a good way." He turned to her, hoping she'd turn to face him, too, that smile still on his face. "You remember the last time our faces were so close to each other, too close? You punched me hard. I'm glad you opted not to punch me this. I like your lips better than your fist."

He stayed staring at her, enjoying the comfort that being alone with an old friend, with Portia herself, was drowning him in. It was euphoria at its finest. He hoped, wished, that it wouldn't end, that they could just spend the remainder of that day in that cell alone, together. Of course, Iván had never been blessed by luck. He's never had a genie that granted him his wishes willy nilly nor a guardian angel that made sure all his hopes and dreams came true. Nope. None of that. All Iván had were buttfaces with terrible timing.

"Ah, the world's greatest lovers!" A familiar voice made its presence heard, announced by clanging of steel bars, keys against a lock, from the outside, farther than any of them could see. It took him some time but the old man was able to finally stand before them, outside of their cell, smiling at them with his hands behind his back. He took one final look towards the door, the entrance and exit of that jail, and seemingly satisfied that no one was around, continued his monologue of sorts. "I'd call you the world's greatest something else, but... You guys failed. You guys failed me. You guys got caught. And now, you guys are trapped in this cell."

Iván simply narrowed his eyes at the old man, not sure what to make of this visit. Did he set them up? Or was he pretending to be their grandfather or something, preying on some guard's humanity, so that he could pay them this visit, just so he could goad about them being gullible tools, naive children, easily set up and made fools of? Neither seemed true, somewhat, so there must be something more to this story.

"Still, thank you for all your help," The old man from the tavern, their patron, the guy who hired them to steal that wedding gown, dress, continued smiling at the pair, looking them over, seemingly gauging their current physical states. "At the very least, you did prove to me that you two are indeed the perfect pair for the job. Not this one, though. Something else. Something bigger."

 

All throughout her silence, she felt him.

For the moment, her uncertainty dissipated, and the world seemed to come together after he replied to her questions with a confident voice she'd heard on few individuals. Her wording hadn't been the best and although she knew that much, when he cradled her face in between his hands, she knew the answer she could hope for couldn't be rushed, not while they were still trying to understand each other in a way they never tried to do. Perhaps it was this sort of intimacy what their relationship had been lacking: the feathered touches to bring calm on restless nights, the feverish warmth that came with knowing they were no longer alone in a world full of possibilities, but that they had each other's backs.

How strange it was to feel so at peace and restless at the same time and not because of a fight, but because of a conversation that took them beyond limits they'd never imagined. That pleasant smile of his, the relaxed facade he put on while he talked to her and the spark of sincerity shining brightly in the green of his eyes left her stunned. Iván's lips parted and as he repeated her sentence, the woman pressed a hand against the aching part of her body and turned to look at him in time to see him chuckle. Chuckle, before he offered an answer she couldn't have expected.

It made her happy and it crushed her all at once, a tightness she couldn't put a name to suddenly closing in around her chest at the reminder of what these interactions between them usually meant. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Iván didn't strike her as the sort of guy who would go around playing with someone else's feelings, especially not when they were left up in the air due to the most recent events in their shared cell. As always, before she could put actual thought into a proper reaction, she lashed out.

Her hand that was cuffed to his moved of its own accord, seizing the collar of his shirt with both a strength and swiftness she didn't know she possessed, the embarrassed look on her face replaced by the embodiment of her anger. Holding him in place, she brought her other hand up and balled it into a fist, ready to strike the male's face even if it now stood close to her own. ''You don't get to play these games with me,'' Portia said with deliberate slowness, the threat lying underneath her voice no less menacing, ''Go back to the nicknames and awkward comments in public if you will, but not this.''

Was that a crack of her voice at the last word? It didn't matter, not when they didn't have time to reflect on these things as another person interrupted them before she could finish her action, pulling their attention with an introduction she knew all too well. Lovers, no, that wasn't what they were and she'd already given up explaining it to anyone else. Portia lowered her fist but kept the grip on the fabric of his clothing tight throughout the old man's monologue, surprised that none of them could muster the courage to say anything to the person who hired them.

''Not feeling in high spirits? That's a pity. You'll still need your determination for what's about to come.'' A smile ever present on his face, not once did he regard the pair of captured players with a hint of disappointment or anger in him. His hands, which he kept at all times behind his back came to the front in a slow motion, drawing something out from his coat as he glanced to the entry of the prison, a frown steadily forming where once only warm familiarity reigned. Without adding anything, the man threw a satchel at their feet, the contents pouring out of it as if they had been arranged without much care.

''Where were you?'' Confused more by everything that had happened after they escaped the castle, the sole matter she couldn't find a reasonable answer to was why hadn't he appeared while they were attacked. Her grip on her partner's clothing ceased, both her hands moving to inspect the contents of the satchel, revealing small medicals supplies on the inside and nothing else. But it would take more than these kind gestures to drown the fire in her. ''Those bastards knew exactly where we were and at what time! There were too many of them and the rest, well, you already know. So do us a favor and tell us, where were you?''

''I was right where I needed to be.'' Not much of an answer anyone completely innocent would give, but more of a situation that had been practiced time and time again, rehearsed for an unclear purpose he now intended to bare in front of the two. ''And soon you will be too.'' As if right on cue, the metallic noise of a key against a lock followed by the sound of a door being pried open greeted them from somewhere out of their view. Instinctively, she threw their newly acquired supplies behind her, pressing her back against the stone wall as if her life depended on it. Their so-called-guardian waved in their direction and mouthed the word ''soon'', walking away from their field of vision and leaving the pair with nothing but an endless sea of possibilities and different theories in their minds.

Alone, just the two of them sitting in eternal quiet inside their cell, a thought circled around her mind begging for release. The more she tried to ignore it, the worse she failed at it. If her partner couldn't be trusted around her, no, if she couldn't be trusted around her friend with all these confusing comments and circumstances surrounding the pair, then this mission would be over sooner than either of them expected. Leaving her anger aside, the woman mumbled something underneath her breath, her tone soft but resolute in the way she spoke. Oh, how frightening it was to give up for the first time.

''I'm dropping out of this job.''

 

And just like that the old man was gone, as if he was never there. Well, at least they got some medical supplies out of that visit. What else could he have expected? Whether the old man set them up or not had already fallen down his list of important things he felt himself compelled to consider. They were in the end game now, trapped in that cell, just the two of them, perhaps in complete and absolute need of escape, rescuing, before the evil henchman sheriff dude finally decide to off them.

Death was never anything Iván feared but he was not a fan of how it all felt. He has died before, more than once, more than necessary, so he wouldn’t be quite a stranger at going through all that process again. But @Portia Ahrens? He turned to her, an eyebrow raised, concern and curiosity in his eyes. She has never died before, has she? Did she deserve to? Did she need to? No. Iván had to keep her alive, keep her safe. No matter the cost.

“Really? You’d leave me hanging just like that?” There was a touch of sadness in his voice. He really did consider her someone special, perhaps the most special of anyone he had ever encountered in this game. Every time he looked at her, he felt something nice, something good, something new to him. It was as if she was a welcome respite from everything else, from the things that have happened and the things that will happen. He hoped she would, could, stay. At least for a little while longer. He turned away from her face, to the steel bars before them, “We’ll have to figure out a way to get out of here first.”

If only one or two guards were there, he could use his illusion magic to trick them into seeing their own inside the cell, instead of Portia and Iván. Confused and yelled at, the probability they’d get them out, seeing them as their own instead of who they truly were, would be high. Once they guard, or guards, opened the cell door, he could then shock them unconscious. Thank purple god for aeromancy. A summon, and imbuing that summon with his air magic, later, they’d be scot-free, free enough to go after the old man and get him to answer their many questions. If only.

Out of anything else to consider, Iván found himself remembering what Portia had said, specifically a certain word that piqued his curiosity. He turned to her, a little apprehensive, “What did you mean when you said games, Portia?” Iván, in this world and the other one, had never been that well-versed in anything related to socialization. He knew things here and there, mostly by reading or watching them unfold with his very eyes, but most of the things he knew, he had never experienced before.

Perhaps, it was safe to say, that this whole thing with Portia, was the first thing of its kind Iván was experiencing. Even outside of the game, Iván, Eli, was oblivious. It was one of the reasons why he was always viewed aloof, strange, weird, mysterious. Yet this was not the world outside. This was the game. Was this whole thing with Portia art imitating life? Were his feelings for her greater than he knew, than he’d ever know to admit?

 

The hush stretched over the pair who sat there, unmoving even after the man and their jailer left, condemning them to the uncomfortable aftermath of their personal troubles. Portia somewhat expected Iván to offer resistance to the path she chose to follow but found nothing in him, mildly disappointed that his sole response was to turn to the more logical path in front of them both. Bringing the satchel to the front to make it rest on her lap, she turned it upside down to let its contents slip out. A few clean bandages, needle and thread, a bottle of what she suspected to be water and not much else.

Her breath caught at his last question, options running thin as she was pressed to reveal the contents of her mind to this person whom she wasn't sure how to speak to anymore. Her partner, her friend, her comrade, her someone she wished she could protect. Iván had become so many things ever since they first met she wasn't sure it could be put into words anymore, nor if whatever she came up with would make it justice. ''What I meant when I said games,'' she said, attempting a level tone of voice, ''Was that you don't get to drag me into whatever it is you were planning to do with that kiss.''

Although her words were true, there were so many things to explain every reaction she always gave him, to explain why she'd punch him if he tried to start another kiss or why her anger got the best of her. Reflecting on said reasons, none of them seemed to be enough for the explanation he sought, and telling the truth suddenly became too tempting of a choice. ''We might be stuck inside this mission for an online game we just happen to play together but if there is one thing this has taught me, it's that reality will still follow us here.'' A pause, then she sighed heavily, testing the weight of the words pouring from her heart without an end in sight. ''I don't want to be toyed with, made to believe something that in the end won't be true. To you, it might be something meaningless, something you can make fun of when I'm not around, but it doesn't mean it will be the same for me.''

I'm still human and I cannot control the way I feel, she wished to add to her confession, but bit her tongue in the last second. Taking advantage of how his focus seemed to be on the bars standing in front, she turned to him for the first time in a while and pressed two fingers against the underside of his chin to hold him in place, her other hand moving to brush aside his dirty silver hair to reveal the spot where he'd been hit by a guard. Thanks to what had happened between them, she never got the chance to actually check on his wounds, but he wouldn't escape her clutches twice in a row.

''I don't know the real you, and you don't know the real me either...'' To her, he was Iván Carl: one of the greatest illusionists she ever had the pleasure of working with, a man who would sometimes let his mask down in front of her, both physically and metaphorically speaking. He was the partner in crime she could rely upon if the Aristocracy sent them to a mission together or if they happened to find an adventure that suited their interests. Of the man behind this avatar he'd created for himself? Portia knew nothing about, and it was exactly the same way around.

To him, she was just Portia Ahrens. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

"Oh," Iván's face showed nothing but confusing as he turned to face @Portia Ahrens. Well, at least he tried to face her. It only take a few seconds, a minute maybe, before his own thoughts started drowning him. What did he plan to do with that kiss? Nothing, that's what. He simply followed what he felt was what he could do at that moment, what he wanted to do. Their faces were close. He had to get back up on his butt. He couldn't get back up on his butt with their faces that close. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry."

But it wasn't like he didn't enjoy that kiss, like it. It was his first in the game, and it felt so real. Truth be told, Iván had never considered kissing anyone in this game, as he has never outside of it. But at that moment, it felt like it was the only thing he could do. He was groggy. He was too tired to ask her to move her face, and even if he wasn't, he didn't want her to move her face. He was just glad hers was the face he woke up to, a familiar face, nothing beholden to temples and the like.

Heaving a sigh, Iván turned his attention instead to his hands on his lap, his knees to be more precise, staring at his knuckles as he clenched his fists on top of those knees. "I didn't mean for you to feel that way, Portia. I just... I just really wanted to kiss you." He winced as he finally admitted it to himself. It was weird, thinking about it. It was even weirder, saying it, having her hear him admit it. Why? Why did he, of all people, want to kiss her, anyone, for that matter? He wasn't the type to feel things for anyone, nothing like this, nothing like he was feeling for her.

"I don't really understand it myself," he finally turned to her with a smile, his cheeks flushed. His mouth has already betrayed him. What else could he do but keep going? Either way, Portia might be able to help him figure things out, himself, his feelings for her. "This is a game, an online game, and to be fair, you're right: I don't know you outside of this world, and you don't know me, either. You could be the guy and I could be the girl."

He swallowed air, a little nervous if his next thoughts would only serve to complicate things more, "But... When I saw you again, after everything we've been through, I've been through, I just felt...good." That was it, plain and simple. How many other Players have Iván met not just once but more than twice? How many of those Players have stood by him, have spent more time with him, knowing him, seeing him, for what he truly was? He could count them all in one hand. Not a lot of them he's made as strong a connection with as Portia. "I have no intentions to toy with you, I don't know if you'll believe me, and I surely don't know if you feel the same way, but I like you."

"You've been here, with me, with all my firsts... My first mission for the Aristocracy, my first expedition, my first death, and now my first kiss... You feel like home to me," Iván thought about the gravity of the statement he just made, put out there. Alphabet Chocolate was like a mother to him, his mentor, in the sense that she had taught him, imparted in him, what illusion magic truly was, what it could be. The Grand Witch Majolica took him in, allowed him to be part of her family. Bradwynne, Haru, Corvella, and Janet Reilly... All of them were like home to him, but none of them had what he had, what he felt he had, with Portia. She was there from the very start, and she was here now, again, as if some puppy he couldn't get rid of him. He liked that idea, not being able to get rid of her. He wouldn't want to. She was his anchor, that much he believed. "...but I'm sorry, truly I am, for making you uncomfortable."

"To be honest, this has been the most comfortable I've been. Being here. With you," Iván scratched his head, a little embarrassed to admit as much. He heaved a sigh, realizing it wasn't all fun and games, especially not for her. He had been too invested in himself, in what he felt, that he didn't consider taking into account what she was feeling. "But you're right, that might not be the same for you. How can I change that? How can I make you as comfortable as I am?"

The first thing that came to his mind was to kiss her again, but then he remembered, thankfully, how uncomfortable that seemed to make her. That might've just ended up with her punching him again. Iván couldn't help but have his eyes wander to her lips once again, how soft they felt against his, how sweet they were. It wasn't like anything he's ever felt before. He wondered if this was something, something he could never understand. Was it a good thing then? Or was it bad? Only time would tell.

 

Portia could feel herself getting tired of this rollercoaster of emotions, her fury scratching the surface as he voiced his wishes to kiss her as an excuse for what he'd done, only to get buried underneath the many layers that composed her person by the rest of his words. He heard the pain in him, the struggle to find the correct way to convey his feelings, his words tumbling one after the other. Every time he came to a halt, she considered speaking up and stopping him before he did something he would regret, said things he wasn't prepared to admit. But when all pieces finally fell into place, she was already late, her eyes widening at the most unexpected sentence she would ever hear from him.

For a moment, the raven-haired lady lingered, her head snapping back to take him in as he continued, listing the reasons why he'd come to that conclusion. Apologies, compliments, tales of what they had and hadn't done together, his motives to choose her out of any other player he could've met on his journey inside Terrasphere. His usual facade wasn't anywhere to be seen and it served to make her realize how she'd been blaming him for crimes he didn't commit. If this wasn't the manifestation of honesty, she wasn't sure what would be.

''You... You are really gonna make me say it, aren't you?'' It was her turn to hold back a chuckle, her mind repeating all that he'd said up to this point in a futile attempt to steady the quickened pace of her heartbeats, and to also hide the pink dusting the high point of her cheeks. A sideways glance cast in his direction revealed her partner to be looking at her lips after his confession, his train of thought now exposed to the girl who fought an inner battle between keeping an angered facade or giving in to the honesty he shared. Facing him only made the choice easier than she ever thought it to be.

''Lucille,'' she whispered, the warmth of her breath a soft caress against his skin as she came closer to him, reducing the distance between them until none of it remained. No surprises, no accidents to dictate their actions and confuse them even further than what they needed, taking everything they had ever known of their relationship and converting it to something else none of them could work out. He was the first person inside the game to whom she would reveal her name, a secret she never meant anyone to know, yet it felt so impossibly natural to let him know, that the thought of allowing her common sense to gain the upper hand became absurd. Maybe that was the truth behind the connection they shared, behind all the jokes and familiar subtleties they knew all too well. ''Lucille Cavaliere.''

Her eyes were wild with an unrecognizable glimmer in them, a mix between panic and yearning. Using her fingers to hold his chin and maintain him in place, she moved his face ever so slightly to a side, bringing it closer to her own. Portia held her breath and summoned whatever courage remained in her system, closing her eyes once more as her lips found the corners of his, pressing them softly against his skin. Her unused hand met his cheek in a soft manner, unwilling to punch him nor push him away as she had done multiple times, her thumb smoothing the flushed skin of his face before she pulled away.

''Home,'' she repeated, not trying to correct him on his choice of words but rather wanting to feel it on her tongue. It came easily to mind when she thought about what they had, and it sounded so well that she wondered if that was the word they were looking for all along. There was joy in the way the corners of her lips curved upwards, both of her hands falling to her lap where they rested one on top of the other. ''You are one hell of a confusing person, Iván.''

''I spent so long living for others rather than for myself that I forgot what it was like to have something you could call your own.'' More than claiming him as her property, what she referred to was to the strength of their bond and how much importance she had given to it. There was happiness when they were together and sadness when they were apart, anxiety when she knew him to be in danger and relief when he returned from his adventures. He would always return to her. ''I didn't know what to think of your silly games and since you never said anything in private, it never crossed my mind that there could've been more to it, and then I blamed you for it.''

''So when you kissed me... It was as if you gave me the answers I sought for, and then reality sunk in. I was happy, yes, but extremely terrified that it was just another game, another lie. And it hurt more than everything I've ever been hit with.'' She was never good with words and it showed, as did the effort she put into trying to let her feelings be known by the only person they mattered to. If he could understand her just as well as he always did, then she would have nothing more to ask of him.

 

Lucille? Iván kept his eyes on @Portia Ahrens, not sure what to make of that word, that name, that gently came out of her soft lips. Who was Lucille? Was she Portia’s benefactor, her patron from the Aristocracy? And then it hit him, almost immediately after she said the name in full. It was Portia’s real name. Her name outside of this world. Her identity outside of this game. Iván kept his eyes on Portia, wide, as his lips slowly but surely curled up into a smile. Lucille Cavaliere?

What happened next was the furthest from what Iván could have expected. From out of nowhere, their lips were locked together once again. Iván blinked for a couple of times, uncertain that what was happening was real, before finally surrendering to the moment, closing his eyes to savor that kiss.

Her lips were soft, and she tasted of iced tea on the hottest day of the year, of honey straight out of the jar, of nothing food could ever recreate. To Iván, kissing Portia was like savoring all the five kinds of taste---sweet, salty, sour, bitter, and umami---at the same time, a combination of flavor that he would always want, crave, and never forget. Just one kiss, and there was no turning back.

When Portia pulled away, Iván was left with his eyes closed, his lips still puckered in the air. It took him a second or two to figure out that her lips were no longer there, no longer pressed against his own. It was a bittersweet feeling, a brief sadness from the kiss being over but unexplainable joy at the sight of her, still there, still next to him.

Iván listened intently to her words, making sure to carefully remember each one. On any day, it would have been an impossible task. With anyone else, it would have been an insurmountable endeavor. But it wasn’t just any day, she wasn’t just anyone else, and Iván knew that this memory would always be with him from that point on.

With a grin, Iván extended a hand to her, “Eli Leone.” He looked her in the eye affectionately, as if seeing her for the first time, meeting a familiar stranger, but knowing full well that the person before him was someone special, someone unforgettable, someone important to him. Portia was all that and more for reasons Iván could not even comprehend. It just was. “My name is Eli Leone. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucille.”

He waited for her to take his hand, shake it, before he’d kiss her again. Quickly. Briefly. Just to get another taste of that warmth, of her, of all that was good in this world. He couldn’t kiss her any longer. He feared he’d lose himself in her, in her beauty, in her heart, in her soul. Although he wanted to stay there with her, just the two of them, alone but together, he knew at the back of his head that they needed to go, to be elsewhere. “I didn’t know how to say it, to be honest. I wasn’t sure I could. But I know what I feel, and I feel things for you, things I’ve never felt with anyone else. It’s confusing to me, too, and I am a little bit terrified that things might get complicated more than necessary.”

Iván heaved a sigh, a thoughtful, contemplative, one, before he continued, “But if I were to risk complicating things with anyone? I’d love for it to be with you. I don’t want to hurt you. I won’t. I never will.”

It felt as if time stopped. For a few seconds at least. Iván could feel his heart race, his cheeks flush. What was he saying? Stupid question. He knew what he was saying, but why? He was risking everything. Was Portia really that important to him? Stupid question again. Of course, she was. She will always be important to him. He felt that to be true, knew that it was no lie. She was home.

And then something crashed somewhere. Outside. Hard. Loudly. Someone screamed. Someone yelled. Whatever it was, it was definitely some sort of commotion. Did something happen? Did one of the goons finally explode that tavern? What was going to happen to the two of them? Iván had to protect her. No matter what.

 

What did one say when they were being confessed to? A name and a handshake, followed by light kisses pressed against her skin, that's all it had taken to bring her walls down. With his acceptance of the personal information she'd offered him, also came her own turn to listen to what her old friend had to say. He gave voice to his opinions, to his concerns about these... Strange feelings developing inside of the two, growing faster than they'd dare to admit themselves. Much to her surprise, she found that she shared most of his opinions in that regard, since none of them wanted to hurt the other.

''Complications have always been our guiding stars and risk the cruel mistress that is there to greet us every damn time. The Ant Queen, the Spire, Druuk Island...'' The words escaped past her lips before she could even put some fair amount of thought into them, bringing forth the memories of the adventures they shared together, bitter as they might be with the aftertaste of defeat and failure still present. No job was ever easy, she knew better than to believe in that fact, and so she chose to enjoy the small moments those expeditions, those missions, allowed her to have. ''What you ask of me, this risk, this complication you speak of... When have we known anything else?''

As strange and confusing as her sentences might be, there was nothing but sheer honesty found in them. The world was composed of all kinds of people who each made the most out of their story, and with what they'd learned from each other on that prison cell, who was to say this wasn't the beginning of a new chapter in their respective stories? Somehow, she managed to feel glad it happened the way it did. It came naturally to them to speak up when there was chaos to be found around the corner, when their bodies had been roughed up first so their emotions could take the reigns. It felt like home.

Yet they weren't back home, in the relative safety of an inn or a tavern, and where peaceful quiet had once existed now it was crashing noises and human screams that filled their ears. The first explosion pulled her out of the ecstatic state of mind, eyes darting to every corner, every crack in the walls as if to look for a source. And then another loud noise struck her ears. It was far too close for them to ignore it a second time, far too close for comfort.

No hesitation nor any shady intention whatsoever clouded her judgment as she pushed Iván onto the floor, in a similar manner to what had happened to the both of them earlier that day, yet the source of said movements pointing out the crucial differences between now and then. Portia had no weaponry to aid them should the ceiling fall down upon them, no elemental masteries she could make use of to keep himself, perhaps shielding him with her own body was the best move she could think of.

That was to say, until the 'threat' passed and she crawled away from him, scrambling to pull herself to her feet even if it meant tugging him along. Not long afterward, the sound of a metallic set of keys rang loudly and out of their field of vision, announcing the jailer's approach to which she responded by tilting her chin upwards and straightening her stance, a scowl settling upon her features faster than she would've liked. However, when another person came into view, her severe expression quickly softened.

An old man clad not in the clothing found amongst common men, a person whom they could easily recognize despite the obvious change in posture and attire, came not to offer them more meaningless chatter than what he had already done but to free them of their bindings. The most important ones, at least, for the players would soon find out the door of their cell to be unlocked by their patron, while the same couldn't be said of the cuffs keeping them bound to each other. To this detail, he simply shook his head and furrowed his brow to signal his disappointment, before skittering away to the staircase where he'd come from.

''I said I was gonna quit but...'' Something in how their patron said nothing to them and left just as quickly as he came sent shivers down her spine, and the commotion from outside did not help to set her heart at ease. She had thought of returning his affections in a clean and simple way, sealing their fates from that point in time and onwards with little words that meant so much more. Faced with the unknown, a mission to finish, all she could do was to give him a single command instead of pouring the contents of her confused heart. ''Live,'' she mused as her initial footsteps dragged them out of their shared cell, her eyes darting all over the place in search of their missing belongings. ''Live so that we may face what's waiting for us outside, together, as one, and claim victory for ourselves. If your feelings are true, that's all I will ask of you.''

 

Welcome to the Crew

Hidden: theme

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Iván faced @Portia Ahrens with a serious look on his face as chaos ensued outside the building. She was right about complication surrounding them each and every time they found themselves together. It was like an itch that wouldn't go right away, like a hound that followed them wherever they went. Still, he wouldn't have it any other way. As long as Portia was around, the worst that could happen wouldn't be that bad.

Her words inspired him, the part about surviving the inevitable conflict just outside where they were, but the part about his feelings being true, however, confused him a little bit. Did she not believe him? Was she considering his intentions to be mired in deceit? That realization stung him for a bit but he steeled himself. It wasn't the time to get all mopey and sad. It was the time, the perfect time, to get the hell out of there.

Spurred by the urgency in the moment, Iván immediately went for the weapons and items the evil henchman sheriff dude confiscated from him. It felt good, being reunited with his most precious belongings, especially after the evil henchman sheriff dude got his filthy, digusting mitts all over them. Iván grimaced at the thought, shaking his head as he pocketed every single one of his stuff so they could quickly get out of their unencumbered. He had just finally held his hammer in his hands once more when loud yelling interrupted him from behind.

"Hey, you! You two! Stop right there!"

"We're not gonna let you get out of here that easy!"

Iván, his back still to the two members of the evil henchman sheriff dude's evil henchman staff, turned his head a bit to see if they were going to be a huge problem. They were not. They just seemed like two new kids, confused and scared as to what they were supposed to do in times like this. Whatever the commotion was, probably the old man's doing, it was still happening, and Iván realized that the evil henchman sheriff dude himself was probably trying to get a handle on things. It seemed like he wasn't getting anywhere fast.

Turning to Portia, Iván flashed her a playful smile, "Don't worry. I got this. Won't take me that long." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, grinning from ear to ear at that taste, before turning fully to the two evil henchmen staff members, his hammer in his hands. In a cheerful mood, Iván also flashed them a smile, which only served to confuse them even further.

"Won't take you long?" One of them protested as they both brandished their swords. "That's really rude, man."

Iván started walking towards them, giving the protesting evil henchman staff member a shrug. The whole infuriated the same man, miffed at how Iván was taking him and his partner like they weren't major threats, as if they were just plot devices that the hero in the story needed to overcome right away and in such a quick throw-away fashion. Furious, the man charged at Iván. Well, he tried to. Iván, in self-defense, acted on instinct and swung his hammer. The man was able to stop himself before his own momentum could catapult him into Iván's hammer, range, which led to Iván catching nothing but air.

"Ha! Looks like Mister Won't Take Me Long has a short range," the same man, hands on his hips, started mocking Iván, turning to his partner for some awkward assurance, which the latter gave. Awkwardly. When the evil henchman mocking staff member turned back to Iván, though, he was met by the illusionist's open palm pointing towards his direction. "What are you... Are you trying to call for a time---"

Iván's lightning spell cut off the man, bursting out of his open palm and into the man's entire body, shocking him from out of nowhere, forcing him to drop to the floor, writhing in pain. He looked like he was having a stroke, an epileptic stroke, but it was actually just electricity surging throughout his body, in much the same way people would react to a taser. Iván's lightning spell was basically tasing the target.

"Oh, shit, Ace! Ace? You dead, bro? Shit, Ace," the electrocuted man's partner, who was obviously younger and less experienced, if not also less confident than Ace, was in complete shock, get it, at what just happened. He was 99.9% sure, when Ace started mocking Iván, that they had everything under control. The sudden turn of events was not at all appealing to him. "W-wait, b-bro, bro, don't tase me, bro. Just.. I don't even like working here. I'm just gonna close my eyes and pretend I didn't see you so you and your pretty girlfriend, good day, ma'am, can just get on out of here and no else needs to get electrocuted... Oh, come on, Ace, don't pee yourself, bro. That's not a good way to go."

Don't Tase Me Bro shook his head when, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed Ace started peeing himself. It was most probably not intentional, a mere side effect of getting shocked by pure lightning. To be fair, though, Iván would've probably let the DTMB go, but then he remembered that he was probably one of the guys who ambushed him and Portia. He could've been the guy who hurt her. At the very least, he probably just stood there and watched that guy who hurt Portia hurt her. That did not sit well with Iván.

When DTMB turned from Ace's stained pants to the World's Greatest Lovers, his eyes widened in horror as, where Iván should've been, his worst nightmare stood right in front of him: Bobo the Clown. He screamed in terror and immediately turned around, away from Bobo the Clown, actually Iván who was playing tricks with DTMB's mind, and ran away, taking only two steps before he crashed face-first into the wall, knocking himself out in the process.

Iván chuckled, shaking his head, before turning to Portia, "Told you it wasn't going to take me that long. After you, my lady?"