Opus

5. Nosedive

The first time I saw Jasper, I focused on his nose. I didn't know who he was, an error he quickly rectified as I stood in line at the Competition's Registration Desk, waiting to hand over my updated registration (and the rest of my life).

Rule 4: Registration is free.

That first time, all I saw was his nose. Without a doubt the most beautiful male snout I've ever seen. Straight, a tad long, aquiline, quite the aristocratic appendage. Had I been a real queen, I would have knighted that guy solely for that nose.

He walked up to me instructing on some shit or other, but I had no clue what he was saying as I was too busy gaping at that nose.

I took me a while to venture south. Below the sniffer, his mouth−generous lips, damn it!−was crooked into a contemptuous smirk, pretty much at it is now. A hell of a royal pain all right.

Look here, bud. I know all about patronizing assholes. I jerked my gaze from the beautiful nose to a pair of green, green eyes, one of which is topped with a dismissive eyebrow. Not that I'm implying the man only has one eyebrow, how ridiculous, but his other one showed neither arrogance nor surprise at the time. The jerk knew he had a somewhat sexy face and seemed at that point to believe his manliness had rendered me speechless (yet again). Oh, ye of too much confidence. It's not you, dude, it's the nose. Even the scar marring the left side of his face was inconsequential in view of The Nose.

"What?" I'd finally uttered.

"I said," he stretched the words as if I am hard of hearing, or maybe he thought I was slow on top of flustered, "do you need help with the paperwork? I've been through two competitions; I'm here to help."

"I'm already registered." The game started weeks ago as the jerk very well knew. That was when it hit me. That wasn't some obscure has-been player; he had to be a winner. Their cockiness is recognizable miles away. Kendrick was the same.

"You look kind of lost, kiddo. This is your first time, correct?" He did wait for my reply, but when it didn't come, he babbled on, "I can spot first-timers right away. I've won twice, as you know." As if I cared. "You're a bit on the scrawny side, but I can train you. Help you built some muscles." I'm not thin; I just enjoy wearing oversized gears. I'm the underdog, the one nobody takes into account. Suckers. "My fees are−"

When the front desk called up my name, I jumped forward and, haughtily ignoring him, went on with my life. The clerk at the desk noted my new address without batting an eye, and why would she have? It's not like some lowly princess of a measly kingdom-turned anarchist democracy now living out in a dilapidated dive in no-man's-land suburbia is such an exceptional occurrence. It's not like the Competition cares.

While I'm reminiscing about our first time, Jasper is ogling me in silence. I've noticed he does that a lot. In between bouts of egotistical chit-chat, his eyes turn cold and observe his surroundings impassively. I have yet to decide if in reality, he is a self-contained mastermind analyst acting like a douche bag, or indeed a player jerk through and through and those silent moments of stoicism are merely his brain short-circuiting from self-inflicted boredom. After all, the intelligence I see lurking in the green pools' depths could all be wishful thinking on my part.

Why else would I consider such a move, right? I interrupt Jaz's spiel mid-sentence. "OK, let's go."

"OK?" His mouth closes and opens a few times before his mind catches up. "Yes! About time you took me out, kitten." Tiger, kitten, the man is fond of felines.

"I know this great bar." I must be crazy for suggesting this, but I blunder on, "You like scotch? It's all that's in stock."

"Scotch's fine, pussycat." Damn. How many cat nicknames can the guy know? "Lead the way."

"It's somewhat out of the center, but it'll be worth the detour."

My objectives are fourfold (isn't it always the case?). Bringing a man, another man to the bar will send a clear message to the siblings. I want to make up my mind about Jasper, friend or foe, smart or dumb. I might get a lay out of his visit. I might enjoy it.