"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..."
With a happy sigh, Peregrine straightened up, wiping a tear from her eye. "Ah, got you a beauty. The chicken thing? Lucky guess. Then I just ran with it." She gave Fields' hair a good ruffling. "Soz, pardner—I couldn't resist. Now, introduce me to this princess of yours. Her burrito is getting cold."
Irrespective of its waning temperature, the princess' burrito disappeared in short order.
"Thank you, Eel. Thank you—?"
"Peregrine," replied the female agent, before turning to her partner with a raised eyebrow. "Eel?"
Fields shook his head. "Don't ask."
"My, what curious names you have in this village. Well, in any case, my thanks to you both. I was truly famished, and your spicy pastie was most welcome."
They had seated themselves in Featherstone's living room, safely out of sight of the prostrate prince, who—dead or otherwise—was just a little unsettling to be around.
Peregrine leaned forward. "Now, Princess Emberlotta—"
"Oh, call me Embers please, my dear Peregrine. I do so grow tired of all the formality that goes along with being a princess. I know one shouldn't grumble, but honestly, some days I find myself almost longing for the simplicity of my cellar, and my former life. There was certainly no your-majesty-this or your-highness-that, in those days. And no overbearing, annoying husb...er, in any case, Embers is fine."
"Oh, come on!" Having abruptly reached its threshold, Fields found his disbelief rapidly becoming non-suspended. "The simplicity of your former life? Your cellar? Please. Next you'll be telling us about your ugly stepsisters. First there's Rapunzel, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty and now...now...this? Peregrine, surely you can't be falling for this nonsense?"
Embers' eyes widened. "Nonsense, Eel? Whatever can you mean? The humble nature of my origin is known across the entire kingdom, from the lowliest tavern, to the stateliest drawing room. Ask any man, woman or child, on any street in Gronce, and they will happily tell you the tale." A hint of rose coloured her cheeks as she continued. "And as for my stepsisters, while they may have sometimes been a little wanting in kindness and affection, I should never stoop so low as to label them on the basis of their appearance, for such would be the act of a churl. For shame, Eel—for shame."
Fields blinked, taken aback by the absolute conviction and apparent sincerity of her protestations—not to mention her criticism. "Gronce?" he queried weakly.
"Yes, Gronce. Honestly, Eel. Anybody would think it was your headpiece I struck, rather than your codpiece. It's only the largest and most powerful kingdom in the land. You must know of it." The red in her cheeks deepened. "Or is this some sort of foolish jape, at my expense?"
Peregrine obviously felt it was time to intervene. "Now, now, Embers. Please excuse poor old Eel—he meant no offence. He and I belong to the organisation that provides law and order to this...village, and it's his first day on the job, you see. He's still a little wet behind the ears, if you know what I mean." She gave a knowing smile. "Plus, there's also the fact he is, well, you know—"
"A man?"
"Precisely. We have to make allowances." She gave Fields her best shut-up-if-you-know-what's-good-for-you look, which—given his currently somewhat bruised and battered state—he decided to heed. He'd keep his scepticism to himself, at least for the moment. "Now, we're investigating a series of crimes in the village, and we think you may be able to help. Do you mind if we ask you some questions?"
"Oh, how exciting! Certainly, Peregrine—I would be delighted to assist you in your investigation. You see, while palace life lacks for little in the way of luxuries, I'm afraid excitement is a rather different matter. And perhaps, once I have answered your questions, you may be able to assist me with a few of my own. Ask away, please."
"Ha! Excellent. Now, first of all—how did you come to be here?"
Embers' look of eager anticipation faded away. "Oh. Oh, dear."
"What is it?" asked Peregrine.
"Well," replied the princess, looking from one agent to the other. "It's just, you see—that was going to be my first question."