“So, Joey, you want us to finance your own bakery, which would be a competitor for both of us. Did I get that right?” Camilla asks with a frown.

“That’s so not happening,” Clodia chimes in.

“Listen, ladies, it’s a simple arrangement. I’ll give you some very remunerative recipes and tricks. I can guarantee you on the truth stone that almost no one knows about these things. And I want to open a small place of mine to avoid staying in your way. I like you both and I could even come to your respective places to work together a bit, but I’m not the right fit for any of you. I’m lazy, I want to do things my way and I even attract trouble. I just want to settle my bakery in a safe place close to my house, and that’s it. You could even lend me the money and I would pay you back. What do you say, I sell you my recipes and you fund a friend?”

“What if I say no?” Clodia looks at me with her icy stare.

“I make this an auction. And instead of giving the recipes to you two, I’ll just sell them to the highest bidder. I’m sure I could borrow some money here and there while waiting for my offer to spread for the whole kingdom of… What’s the name of this Kingdom, again?”

“You don’t know?” Camilla looks at me like I’m crazy.

“Not that big on geography,” I smile.

“Kingdom of Lucerna,” Clodia says with a frown.

“Well, whatever. That’s my offer. Or I could try to compete with you both after finding an investor or something like that. I’m pretty sure I could steal a lot of your business.”

“I’ll pay for everything,” Camilla says with a resolute look in her eyes. “No matter the price. I’ll get Clodia’s recipes too. I’ll pay double for those.”

Clodia slowly turns to Camilla and the temperature in the infirmary drops by more than a few degrees. Oh, Lady Luck, please don’t get me murdered this soon after being stabbed a few hours prior.

“You little—”

“Please, ladies. I would love to see a dirty catfight, but I’d rather not have all of us get arrested, since we are in the Watch building.”

Clodia and Camilla break their searing deadlock and turn to me.

Once again, I feel like they want to eat me alive.

And once again, that’s a bit of a turn-on for me.

Sometimes I wonder when and where I've become like this.

I mean, my character was pretty much the same since middle school. I was never competitive, but always confident enough to score.

I think my brain actually has an additional lobe whose function is to imagine girls as my potential future wives. Ok, let me explain this one better. It’s like every time I see a girl, woman or whatever is legally acceptable, I run a simulation.

The wife simulation consists in a series of fictional scenarios that I play in my head alongside said woman.

One of the most important scenarios is the zombie apocalypse.

Now, why would I do that, you might ask.

Well, just listen for a second.

A zombie apocalypse is a situation where there is a big no-bull clause if you don’t want to die. It’s non-negotiable. As soon as you mess up, boom, a zombie is sipping the juices from your brain through a straw, while wearing one of the ugly flower shirts that are so popular in Florida. And flip-flops, probably.

The point is, if you have an unreliable person with you during a zombie apocalypse, you are going to die. And no one wants to die, right? I mean, maybe some. But, as a general rule, people like the breathing part.

So, try to imagine a whiny girlfriend with you while you try to run from a zombie horde.

“Oh no, Joey, my foot hurts. They had this special sale at the mall, and I couldn’t pass on these shoes even if they are three sizes smaller than my own. I guess we have to die now, but it was totally worth it.”

Or a jealous one.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap about torn up clothes! You were staring at *generic apocalypse survivor female name*’s boobs! You are a pig! And guess what, because you don’t give me enough attention, I hid your guns! Now what, huh? Oh, you’re afraid of those zombies running at us? Well, you shouldn’t have cheated on me! Because remember, when your gaze lingers for too long, you are basically cheating!”

You get the idea.

Lucinda passed that test with flying colors.

She’s clearly the no-bull, imma-blast-zombies-from-dusk-till-dawn type.

But anyway, I’m so used to run this software in my head that it kind of plays on its own by now. When I look at Clodia, she fits many scenarios, including the very important zombie-apocalypse one, but she likes girls. So that’s that.

When I look at Camilla, she is probably reliable, but she does fail on some counts, I think. Further evaluation pending. For now, not interested in that.

That doesn’t mean if I’m not interested I don’t flirt. It doesn’t work like that! You’ve got to flirt with everyone! If you are too selective, you are just a weirdo! I’m for equal opportunities!

“He’s doing that thing, isn’t he?” I slowly come out of my elucubrations, and I hear Camilla’s voice.

“Yeah, he didn’t listen to one word of what we just said. Flaminia says he does that at least once every hour. If you want my advice, don’t ask what he was thinking about. It’s usually something infuriating.”

“That’s very offensive,” I reply with a mock-frown.

“It’s meant to be,” Clodia shoots back with a smile.