Section F: Fairy Tales & Physicists

Chapter 5

"Burrito?"

Fields stared at the foil-wrapped package Peregrine was brandishing. "Huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Would—you—like—a—burrito? I got one for you and the princess. I didn't think the prince would want one, ha-ha. They're really good—I know this place."

"But we just had sushi."

"Hardly. That was ages ago, and investigating is hungry work. Don't you know the first rule of Section F?"

"Um. You do not talk about Section F?"

"Ha! No, you idiot. It's to always keep your energy up. You never know when you might need it."

"What, for chasing down bad guys? For busting perps?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, sure. All that kind of stuff. But mostly it's for when you need to run away really fast. So, be a good agent, and eat your burrito. Here, yours is chicken."

Fields took the burrito. It just seemed like the easiest option. "Thanks—I actually like chicken."

With a conspiratorial smile, Peregrine leaned in a little closer. "Oh, I know."

The burrito suddenly felt heavier. "What?"

"Oh, yes. I know all kinds of things about you"—Peregrine winked suggestively—"partner."

Not liking the tone of that last word one little bit, Fields took an involuntary step back. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Smile now becoming disturbingly seductive, Peregrine advanced. "I think you know what I mean, Fields."

"Uh..." Shaking his head, the stricken agent continued to retreat. "I don't, I don't, I truly, honestly don't. At all. Um."

"Oh, come on. Do you really think our partnership is mere chance? Do you really think it was simple blind luck that brought us together? Can't you feel it's meant to be, Fields? Can't you feel it's"—eyes glistening, Peregrine's voice became husky—"our destiny?"

"Er, ah...I don't...um...." Already feeble, Fields' protestations petered out completely as he backed into the wall, his partner now just centimetres away. Reaching up, she brushed a stray lock of blonde hair from his forehead.

"Oh, Fields—I know you so well."

"But—"

"I know your likes and your dislikes. I know the name of your second-grade teacher, and of your first pet. I know who's broken your heart. I know your star-sign and I know your favourite songs. Fields, I know you."

"I—"

"Hush. Hush, my sweet. I was the one who arranged for you to be assigned to Section F—to be assigned to me. I was the one who brought us together. And together is how we're going to stay—forever."

Mind racing, knees weak, mouth working soundlessly, Fields thought in desperation for the right thing to say; for the miraculous piece of linguistic magic that would save him from this completely unforeseen, potentially catastrophic crisis. "L-look-this is all very f-flattering, but—"

With a snort, which was neither ladylike nor refined, Peregrine cut him off with a jovial jab to the solar plexus. "Ha! The look on your face—what a classic. Really had you going there, huh partner. Ha-ha-ha." Unable to contain her mirth, she doubled over with laughter.

After a few seconds of stunned incomprehension, a heady blend of relief and outrage flooded through Fields, along with a healthy dose of confusion and—perhaps most disturbing of all—just the tiniest hint of disappointment. "What? But the kebab..."