Limitless Evolution As a Snake

"No," they say, together, perfectly in sync, as they rehearsed it.

Channel laughs, actual laughter, not the performance kind, bright and surprised out of her like it escaped before she could catch it. "I like them," she tells me, sounding almost giddy about it, and for one weird second the assassin thing feels very far away and very unimportant.

[System: mate I don’t know what’s happening but I’m not sure you’re in charge of your own house anymore.]

Yeah, I noticed that too. Was I ever in charge?

Channel hits me from behind like she’s trying to win a hug contest. I’m all for free hugs, but this is a weird hug.

Her arms wrap around my hood, squeezing tight, and she’s making these little breathy noises like I’m the best thing she’s ever touched. Which, fair, I get that a lot now.

"You’re so warm," she says, nuzzling into my scales. "So strong. I just want to feel you forever."

"Yeah, I know I’m a snack. No need to say it twice, sweetheart."

I feel something poke the scales behind my hood, sharp and quick, like she’s giving me one of those fancy pressure-point massages rich people pay for. A little pressure point thing. I lean into it a bit because honestly it feels kind of nice.

Then I hear a noise like someone stepping on a plastic fork.

Crack.

[System: Yeah nah, mate, that’s not a massage. That’s a full-blown murder attempt. She just tried to jam a steel needle into your neck and it went out like a party popper against your scales. Bloody hilarious, ten out of ten, would watch again.]

I have no idea what he’s on about. Feels like a massage to me. A little intense, sure, but I’ve had worse from Cherry when she’s overexcited.

Channel goes quiet behind me. Real quiet. The kind of quiet where you can practically hear someone’s soul leaving their body.

"Ah," she says, voice a little strained. "Wow. You’re so tough."

"Thanks, you’re pretty good with your hands too."

She makes a noise that might be a laugh or might be a whimper. Hard to tell.

[System: She’s crying, mate. Silently, poor girl spent good money on that needle I reckon, and you just flexed it into confetti without even noticing. Absolute legend behaviour, not gonna lie.]

I still don’t get what the big deal is. Some girls hug harder than others. Some girls stab needles into my scales as a form of affection; apparently, I’m not one to kink shame.

Cherry’s practically vibrating next to me, wings buzzing, tail swishing like a happy dog.

"Matt! Matt, look at her!" she says, pointing at Channel like she just found a lost puppy in the rain. "Can we keep her? Please? She’s so cute and clingy, look at her hugging you like that! I’ll walk her every day, I promise! I’ll even get her a little collar!"

Channel’s grip on my hood tightens for a second, and I feel her whole body go stiff.

"I’m not a dog," she says, voice a little too sharp for the fan-girl act.

"You kind of are though," Cherry says, completely unbothered. "A flying puppy, with wings. It’s very cute."

Lyra’s been sitting this whole time, watching quietly from her chair with her legs crossed, sipping something out of a paper cup like she’s watching a movie instead of whatever just happened behind me. Her green eyes are sharp, tracking every twitch Channel makes.

"If we’re keeping her," Lyra says, voice dry as old bread, "we’d need a dog house, a proper kennel too. Can’t just let her sleep wherever."

"That’s too much work," Cherry whines, horns twitching. "Can’t we just let her sleep on the couch? I’ll get her a blanket."

"She needs training first," Lyra says, deadpan.

"Housebreaking. You can’t just let strange women hug Matt’s hood without supervision."

"She already hugs him fine!" Cherry argues. "Look, she’s really good at it! Very affectionate! A-plus hugging technique!"

[System:: Mate, she just tried to kill you.]

I ignore him because he’s clearly being dramatic. This is just how girls say hello now, probably. New trend. I’ll ask Lyra about it later.

"Fine," Lyra says, taking another sip from her cup, still watching Channel like a hawk sizing up a rabbit. "No kennel. But she’s on a leash the second she goes near the kitchen."

"Deal," Cherry says instantly, way too fast for someone agreeing to hypothetically leash a grown woman.

Channel, still frozen against my back, lets out a small, strangled laugh. "You’re all insane," she mutters.

"Welcome to the family," I chuckle, turning my head so my forked tongue can flick in her direction. "Population: unhinged."

Channel clears her throat like she’s about to give a business presentation, not coiled up in my kitchen looking like she wants to melt into the floor.

"I’ll stay nearby," she says, all soft and proper. "Same block, different name. Just so I can come check in on you, Matthew. Thank you so much for taking care of me."

Cherry’s head tilts sideways, horn stumps twitching.

"Wait," she says. "So I’m not getting a puppy?"

I lift my tail and gently touch her on the head, and she leans into it like a starving cat getting fed for the first time in a week.

"She was never a puppy," I tell her.

Cherry makes a small noise, somewhere between a whimper and a purr, and I swear her tail curls up behind her like it’s trying to hug itself.

I keep my tail on her head a second longer than I need to, just feeling her lean into the touch, and something deep in my coils goes warm and stupid.

"You’re doing so well," I say, quiet, just for her. "You know that? Every single day you’re doing so well and I don’t say it enough."

Cherry’s whole face goes red. Her horn stumps twitch so hard I think they might fall off. "I- I just- you don’t have to-"

"I mean it," I cut in, and I do, I actually mean it, which is the scary part. "You’re one of the best things that’s happened to me down here. I don’t care how messed up that sounds."

She makes a sound like she’s been shot. In a good way. If that’s possible.

Old Mate pipes up in the back of my skull, dry as a dead riverbed.

[System: Mate, mate. I am still here. Does this mean I get to watch this time?]

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