“All right, Grandpa.” I pat his shoulder pad. “Glad you’re such a good—”
A woman approaches us, her blue hair pulled up in a sleek bun, eyes a translucent aqua—a siren. She’s dressed in a sharp business suit with a leather folio clutched to her chest, immediately makingme feel more than a little underdressed in my goo-stained clothes; magic could only clean ooze cube loogies so much.
She stops next to us, and Orok’s face pales.
“I’ve been looking for talent in the wrong places,” she says, nothing but camaraderie in her tone, the same pleasantly surprised energy the Manticores show as most mingle with the kids now, exclaiming over them.
But Orok nods tightly. “Yeah.”
That’s all he says.
I look back at her to figure out why he’s being weird and clock the logo imprinted on her folio: the pro rawball insignia.
“She’s the recruiter?” I guess. Then, to her, “You’re the pro rawball recruiter?”
The woman holds out her hand, and I take it. “Savasea Corruguna. It’s reassuring, at least, that Orok has told you about the opportunity.” Her eyes sparkle, not from using magic, just in friendliness, and she looks up at him. “Is it too much to hope that that means you’ve made a decision?”
Orok’s mouth bobbles. “Uh. Not yet. No.”
It’s my turn for my eyes to bulge comically, but he doesn’t look at me as Savasea pulls a card out of her folio and extends it to Orok.
“I’d love to talk more before I leave town next week. Give me a call, would you?” She winks at him. “Try not to lose my card this time.”
I translate that. “She’s asked you to call her before and youhaven’t?”
Orok snatches the card and closes his hand around it, his face cherry red. “I—” He sighs. “Yeah.”
I huff at Savasea. “I promise I raised him better than that. He’ll call you this time.” I bat his chest with the back of my hand. “Won’t you?”
Savasea seems amused by me, more so when she realizes I’m on her side. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
Orok remembers basic manners all at once. He gives her a smile and blows out an apologetic breath. “Thank you, yes. I will call you. It’s just… a lot.”
I’m practically bouncing in place.What’sa lot? What’s she offered him?
“I understand,” Savasea says. “I’m happy to answer any questions you have.”
Orok’s smile is truer. “Thanks. I’ll call you.”
She leaves, not heading off to talk to any other players, I note.
Oh my gods. She came for him. To acharity game,not even anything official.
The moment she’s a respectable distance away, I grab Orok’s arm tight enough to sever arteries. “What was that about,” I ask, but it comes out as a high-pitched shriek.
Orok hangs his head. “A recruiter. It’s noth—”
“If you sayit’s nothing,I swear to the gods—”
“Seb.”
I try to rein myself in. His eyes hold mine imploringly.
“You got recruited?” I ask, voice lower. Maybe no one else knows. How would his team not know? If she’s been around practices and games.
But how didInot know about this offer? How did Orok not tell me?
I don’t let the stab of hurt unsettle me. Too much.
