PERRY’S HAND TREMBLES in mine as I drag her from the room.

Instructor Wren either thinks he’s more clever than he actually is, or he’s a total dumbass who doesn’t realize he’s propositioning his students. Neither is a good look, but both make me want to pound his stupid face in. I’m already sick of his holier-than-thou attitude.

“L-Lucy? Um… where are we going?”

I don’t answer. The hitch in her voice only pisses me off more. Halfway down the hall, I finally spot what I’m looking for, and shove Perry into the women’s restroom. A thorough check of the stalls proves we’re alone.

“Lucy…?” she asks again.

“Shut up and listen,” I say, whirling around to face the other girl. “I don’t know what you’ve been through. I can’t know. But I can guess. A woman only looks at a man like that for one reason.”

Perry averts her eyes. “Um…”

“No,” I grab her jaw and swivel her head back to me, “Look me in the eye. You want to be a Climber, right?”

“Y-yes…”

“Then it’s time to put on your big girl panties. This is a profession primarily comprised of men, Perry. What do you think is going to happen if you react like that every time one of them comes on to you? Most will probably back off, but some are going to see it for what it is: weakness. To them, you’re nothing more than prey. Is that what you want?”

Tears begin to pool in the corners of Perry’s eyes, and she squeezes them shut. “Of course not, but you don’t know that’ll happen…”

I scoff. Is she really this naive? “Of course I do. Just look at you. I bet every man in this building has checked you out already.”

The other girl falls to her knees, covering her face with her hands in another display of melodrama. It occurs to me she might be faking it—her outfit screams look how hot I am, but she’s this terrified of attention? That kind of incongruity is pretty glaring, but her reaction to Wren’s dumbass comment seemed genuine, so she’s either operating in a way I don’t yet understand or she’s an incredible actress.

The door opens, and an older woman walks in. She takes one look at Perry on the ground bawling her eyes out, and the death glare on my face, then turns around and walks right back out.

I cross my arms, and look back down to Perry. “Answer me. Is that what you want? To be a notch in some asshole’s belt?”

“N-no,” she cries through her hands. “But—”

“Stand up.”

She looks up at me, eyes red and puffy. Black eyeliner streaks down her face.

“Stand up,” I repeat. “Now.”

Perry reluctantly climbs to her feet, pawing at her eyes. “W-what?”

I jab my finger between her breasts, right on the sternum. “You’re not a victim. Bad shit happens to everyone. Maybe your shit is worse than others, I don’t know. But you’re up and walking around, which means you can change the paradigm. You’re the only one who can. On some level you know that, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“You say that like it’s easy…”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Of course it isn’t easy, nothing worth doing ever is. But if you want to be seen as anything more than a pair of tits, you’ll find a fucking way.”

Perry’s eyes are downcast, and I'm pretty sure she's going to cry again.

At this point I’m certain I’ve failed, but that was always the expectation. Nobody changes because someone else tells them to. Human communication is a flawed beast like that. If we could communicate thoughts, feelings, or even experiences, it would be much easier to convince people their thinking is flawed.

But we can’t. All we have are useless words. Words that’ve lost their meaning through endless repetition, bastard words that’ve evolved so much a person from a century or two ago would find our way of speaking almost indecipherable. What good are words when they mean different things to everyone? Whether Perry hear my words and thinks me a cold bitch, or understands I’m looking out for her, my words won’t change her heart. I don’t have that power.

I leave Perry to cry herself a river and stop by the classroom on the way out to find Instructor Wren still there, wandering around the room like a kicked puppy. He’s too young to be a real instructor—probably just some Guild lackey. His handling of the exam is proof he doesn’t have an ounce of professionalism in his body.

Though my treacherous mind once again notices just how tall he is, and the way his short black hair sort of… flows. Does he style it that way, or does it just naturally defy gravity? Stupid question. It’s probably hard as a rock from all the product he uses, which I find just makes it easier to stay mad at him.

“Hey, Boulderbrain,” I say, and struggle to contain my amusement at the dumb look on his dumb face. “I probably don’t have to say this, but watch the fuckin’ innuendo. It’s not clever, and it’s not going to make either of us sleep with you.”

He sighs, planting his face in the palm of his hand. “It wasn’t supposed to be innuendo.”

I cross my arms, giving him a challenging glare. “Does it matter? Your words carried a meaning you didn’t mean to convey, tough shit. At least you’re not the one who almost had a panic attack.”

Surprisingly, his face twists up with genuine remorse. “Is she alright?”

“Dunno,” I shrug. “Ask her yourself if she ever comes back.”

“Maybe it’s for the best she doesn’t,” he says, sounding halfway between regret and relief. “Safer that way.”

I actually laugh. When he sends me a strange look, I decide to elaborate, though of course I would’ve found a reason to anyway. “You’re blind if that’s what you think. She came here to gain control of her life, and you think she should give up and go home?”

He nods. “I admire her courage, but you’re assuming Perry will have a life to gain control of after this. The Tower won’t wait for her to muster her resolve, she’ll just be dead.”

It takes effort not to lash out at him. At first, I assumed our Instructor was just a misogynistic prick, but a part of me is starting to get the feeling he’s speaking from experience. How many people has he seen die? How many has he killed?

I’m not an idiot. Of course the Tower is dangerous, but that just makes it the devil I know. It’s people I can never really be sure about. I can handle it, but it’s also hard to pretend Wren’s calm assurance we’re going to die isn’t a little unsettling. I hate when people make me doubt myself.

“Well, it’s her decision. And mine. Maybe start teaching us how to protect ourselves instead of trying to send us home.” It’s a stupid thing to say. I already know he wants to teach us himself, he’s just… throwing me off my game.

Thankfully, he doesn’t rub my nose in it, and gives me a smile. “That’s the plan,” he says, and then checks his phone. “I wanted go over the details more today, and maybe run you through some drills in the gym, but…”

Perry. She hasn’t returned during our conversation, and there’s no guarantee she ever will.

Yet, as if decreed by fate, the blonde girl pokes her head through the door at that exact moment. Her makeup is no longer streaked, though I’m not sure how she fixed it since it doesn’t seem like she’s carrying anything. Maybe there’s a locker room around here somewhere.

“Hello,” she says, cheerfully.

“Perry,” Wren starts, pointedly staying in place across the room. “I didn’t mean to—”

She holds up a hand and gives a bright smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Instructor Wren. I’m just… I guess I’m a bit sensitive. I’m sorry for being so dramatic.”

Wren gives her the same soft smile he gave me moments ago. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I hurt you, even if it was unintentional.” He looks to me, and then back to Perry. “We were just discussing hitting the gym—you feeling up to it?”

“Sure, but… why?”

“There’s a few things I can teach you before we get into the Tower. You both know modern weapons don’t really work in there, right?”

I’m pretty sure there are toddlers who know that. Perry nods with a smile, of course.

“Even if your plan is to use magic,” he says, glancing at me. “You should learn how to swing a sword. Until you get some Gifts from the Tower and start training your Proficiencies, you’re going to be pretty weak.”

Perry’s still nodding with that same smile plastered to her face.

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” I ask. Well, nobody ever accused me of having tact.

Perry’s smile cracks a little. “How bad is it if I don’t…?”

Oh boy.