"She was wrong to try to change you," I said. I hugged Quinn tighter. "You didn't do anything wrong. You loved your sister and underneath it all, she loved you, too."
"We should have known. Everyone thinks it. My mother told me last night I should have done something," Quinn said.
"What could we have done? How could we have known? Sienna never shared her plans for herself. She only told people how to play their parts."
I was angry again. Sienna threw us into this horrible drama without a second thought. She had never thought about anyone but herself.
"I was going to be the nurse to her surgeon," Quinn said. She sat up and swept back her hair. It smelled of rose water.
"And I was supposed to be the trophy husband to her successful career woman," I said.
"Except you were supposed to go off and coach little league or join the Rotary Club. Not go and get professional sponsors to play video games," Quinn said.
"Yeah, I went off script."
"Me too," Quinn said. "I almost failed gross anatomy. You should have seen Sienna's face when I bombed the practice final."
"What are we going to do without Sienna here to organize us?" I asked. My arm was still around Quinn's shoulders. I didn't let go.
"Sit on the couch and play video games," she said with a weak smile.
We settled back, Quinn tucked into the crook of my arm, and restarted the game. Upstairs, the funeral reception continued. People shared stories of Sienna the perfect, Sienna the ambitious, Sienna the bright ray of golden sunshine. In the basement, we tried to forgot how she hurt us, her death most of all.
#
It was easy to ignore everything else. Quinn was tucked under my arm. She fit perfectly. Dark Flag was open on the wide screen television. It had to be alright for us to disappear for a while. The upstairs world could go on without us.
"Have you seen the Black Fields?" I asked.
I felt Quinn's head shake then nestle in closer. "No. Could you show me?"
"Wanna get away for a while?"
"Exactly."
I booted up the game to a new entry point. Players from my clan popped up everywhere, but I repeated the same message: "Touring a newbie."
It was actually part of my job. In fact, within five minutes, I spotted the avatar of one of my supervisors. My sponsors had players in the game to see that I logged the required number of hours and mentioned their product enough times.
"Hang on. I have to tell that Cloaked Corpse about Buzz Fuel," I said.
"The energy drink?" Quinn asked.
I was glad she did not sit up and instead stayed nestled against me. "Yeah, it’s one of my sponsors. I get paid to mention it during play. There are even bonuses if I mention it a certain number of times."
"Your clan players don't think it’s weird?"
"A lot of them know it’s part of my gig. Though, it’s also pretty natural because a lot of the players log on after work and pull all-nighters. We talk strategy and staying alert is part of that," I said.
"Do you drink Buzz Fuel?"
I looked down at her scrunched up nose and laughed. "I go for plain black coffee. Keeps you from getting dehydrated. But don't tell the Cloaked Corpse that."
"I'm just following you," she said.
Her avatar stood behind mine. It looked surprisingly like her. Most people chose idealized body types and features for their avatars or decided to be otherworldly creatures. My avatar had a wicked spiked helmet, but if I removed it, the face was a composite created directly from a digital photograph of me. My sponsors wanted me to be recognizable.
Quinn had also chosen to be a human warrior. It meant her avatar depended on weapons, charms, and spells to survive, but her ability to gather such things was unlimited. She was new to the game and had earned very little armor, and I could not help but noticed her avatar's curves matched her own dimensions.
Unlike the avatar that approached me as I left the Cloaked Corpse. It was a female Nocturne with bluish skin and iridescent eyes. Her breasts had been pumped up past voluptuous and the skin-tight silver suit showed off every ounce.
"May I please the clan leader?" the Nocturne asked.
"Whoa, avatars can do that?" Quinn asked.
"You mean throw themselves at other avatars?" I asked. I typed in a sequence that put the Nocturne aside. "They can do a lot more than that. In the waysides and taverns, avatars can kiss, fondle, undress, have sex, all of it. Dark Flag is not just rated M for violence."
The pop-up screen of commands appeared next to Quinn's avatar. I tried not to watch as she tried a few out. Her avatar ran its hands over its breasts, unzipped its jacket, and licked its lips.
"You might want to watch what you're doing. There are other players around that might be interested," I said.
Quinn quickly scrolled through the commands but could not find the reverse. Her avatar's jacket was slipping off one shoulder, revealing the very thin tank top underneath.
"Why is my avatar not wearing a bra?" Quinn asked.
"Virtual gravity is not a factor?" I suggested.
She whacked my arm and finally found the right command. With her avatar fully dressed, she sat up. "Okay, there is way more to Dark Flag than I'm ready to take on right now. Are you hungry?"
"Thirsty," I said. The heat between us had made my mouth go dry.
"Then let's go on a real-life raid. The caterers in the kitchen know me and they'll put together a quick tray and drinks for us," Quinn said.
"So you really plan to hide out down here the rest of the day?" I asked.
Quinn stood up and nodded. "Yes. Definitely. I mean, I get it if you want to leave."
I shook my head and followed her upstairs. We rounded the corner on the way to the kitchen and Quinn ran right into her father.
"Quinn, Owen. I should have known you two were hiding out together," Mr. Thomas said. "The hearse just arrived and we'll be leaving for the cemetery in half an hour." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I expect you to be in the limousine with the rest of the family, Quinn."
"I will, Father. I'm just getting something to eat. I'm feeling light-headed," Quinn said.
The change was instantaneous. As soon as her father appeared, Quinn became a pale shade of herself. She said as little as possible, nodded while her father spoke, and her sweet mouth turned down at the corners. I had seen it hundreds of times before. Every time it happened, I wanted to punch Mr. Thomas in the face.
"Sienna would have known how to handle herself," Mr. Thomas told his youngest daughter. "Pull yourself together for her sake."
"Yes, Father. Can I get you anything?" Quinn asked.
"No, but maybe Owen here can explain why my wife is so upset," Mr. Thomas turned on me.
It seemed obvious, so I said nothing. The silence infuriated him, and I saw Quinn shrink back. Finally, I relented. "She never approved of me and Sienna. I think maybe I should go."
Behind her father's ramrod straight back, Quinn caught my eye and shook her head. She looked so sad, as if I was abandoning her. I imagined the limousine ride to the cemetery. Her parents could not go five minutes on a regular day without comparing her to Sienna. What would they say to her on the drive?