Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Clea found herself facing a rather serious problem.

If Evenson fell for another glamorous woman, she wasn’t worried. With her looks and, well, considerable assets, winning him back shouldn’t be too difficult.

Even if he suddenly realized he preferred men, she could always put on a suit, play the part of a handsome man, and slowly straighten him out again.

But a taste for non-human women?

That was a different problem entirely.

Evenson wasn’t some sheltered shut-in who had never seen the world. A pair of cat ears and a tail probably wouldn’t be enough to make him lose his mind. He’d seen real demons. He’d dealt with the Eredar Twins.

Compared to two genuine demon women, anything Clea could imitate would probably be considered a rather tame fantasy.

And then there was their biggest advantage.

They were sisters.

Do I really have to master some kind of multi-clone technique just to compete with them?

That sounded exhausting.

Then Clea paused.

Wait.

A thought suddenly occurred to her.

If Evenson really had such an overwhelming weakness for non-human women, why did he seem to care more about her?

She wasn’t even a non-human woman.

That realization finally allowed Clea to relax.

Maybe the demon-girl thing was just entertainment.

What he felt for her was different.

Perhaps Evenson really had meant what he’d said. Perhaps he actually saw her as his partner for life.

The more Clea thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed.

Plenty of men fantasized about exotic characters in fiction. But if one of those fantasy characters actually appeared in front of them, how many would genuinely be able to accept the reality?

"...What are you thinking about?"

Evenson had been watching her silently process everything and was starting to get nervous.

The last thing he wanted was another emotional explosion.

"Nothing."

Clea immediately pushed her thoughts aside.

"I’ll tentatively accept your explanation."

Then she looked at him meaningfully.

"But I’m not going to believe you completely."

Her lips curved into a faint smile.

"You’d better prove yourself."

Prove myself?

Evenson rolled the phrase around in his head.

Then he remembered what had happened during their last lesson in the laboratory.

His eyes immediately lit up.

He stepped closer, slipped an arm around Clea’s shoulders, and lowered his voice.

"Clea, it’s getting late."

He gave her a suggestive grin.

"Why don’t we turn in early tonight?"

"Hm-hm-hm..."

It really was late.

Evenson had no idea what time it was anymore, but darkness had settled outside the aircraft, and most of the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel had already gone to bed.

The airborne bus had become unusually quiet.

Melinda, however, hadn’t retired for the night.

She had tied her hair into a ponytail and changed into a black tank top and tight training pants. Standing on a padded mat in the middle of the empty hall, she moved slowly through a sequence of Tai Chi.

It was an old habit.

She practiced for a while after waking in the morning and again before going to bed.

Normally, Tai Chi was simply exercise for her, something that helped her maintain her health, clear her mind, and sleep better afterward.

After all, she’d learned the movements from a five-dollar instructional DVD.

It wasn’t exactly some lost martial arts lineage.

No matter how diligently she practiced, there was a limit to what she’d get out of it.

But things were different now.

As Melinda completed a movement, green flames briefly flickered across her hands.

The air directly in front of her rippled.

She stopped.

A faint smile appeared on her face.

So what if I’ve only learned the basics?

With these flames enhancing her movements, Melinda was convinced she could soon surpass those legendary martial arts masters capable of throwing one punch and making their opponents dance uncontrollably.

That was her new goal.

She adjusted her breathing and prepared to run through the sequence again.

She had just settled into the opening stance when a tremendous crash erupted behind her.

Melinda jumped straight into the air.

She spun around and immediately dropped into a combat stance, green fire gathering in her palms.

One wrong move and she would unleash everything she’d learned from years of painstaking martial arts training.

Then she saw the scene.

Her expression became:

...-_-||

Clea’s bedroom door was wide open.

Evenson was lying in the corridor like a piece of discarded garbage.

It looked as though someone had thrown him out.

Bang!

A hand reached out from inside the room and slammed the door shut.

The person on the other side apparently had no interest whatsoever in Evenson’s current condition.

Instead, Clea’s voice came through the door.

"During this observation period, you behave yourself!"

Her voice was sharp.

"And if you start thinking about that kind of nonsense again, I’ll personally make sure you regret it!"

Evenson lay on his side, looking utterly miserable.

But you told me to prove myself.

And last time in the laboratory, you complained that I was too restrained.

I finally tried to be more enthusiastic, and this is what I get?

He sighed internally.

Women really can change their minds fast.

Evenson slowly picked himself up.

Melinda was standing nearby with her hands on her hips, staring at him with an expression that was equal parts confusion and amusement.

"Haha..."

Evenson gave an awkward laugh.

"Well..."

He desperately searched for an explanation.

He certainly wasn’t going to tell Melinda that he’d misunderstood Clea and gotten kicked out of bed.

"Actually, I was inspecting the door."

Melinda raised an eyebrow.

"The door?"

"Yes."

Evenson nodded solemnly.

"I’m checking whether the installation is appropriate."

He gestured toward the door.

"Don’t be surprised. Warlocks are unusually sensitive about doors."

"Sure."

Melinda rolled her eyes.

She picked up a nearby glass of water and took a drink.

"So? What’s your professional assessment?"

Evenson scratched his head.

"Well..."

He considered the matter with exaggerated seriousness.

"The airborne bus has plenty of space, but it’s still limited. And in an emergency, outward-opening doors like these could create a serious safety hazard."

He nodded firmly.

"I recommend replacing them with sliding doors."

Melinda tilted her head.

Her gaze passed over Evenson’s shoulder.

She could see the outline of a human head pressed into the door.

There was also a fresh smear of blood.

Melinda nodded thoughtfully.

"You may have a point."

She looked back at him.

"Someone could definitely get hurt."

"I’ll recommend the change to the director."

"Excellent."

Evenson decided it would be wise to change the subject before his credibility deteriorated any further.

"How’s Coulson?"

That immediately caught Melinda’s attention.

"I only know that he’s awake."

She found a seat and sat down.

"His self-awareness has completely returned."

She paused.

"But..."

"But what?"

Evenson waited.

"Nothing."

Melinda shook her head.

"The director hasn’t told me anything. I just have a feeling something is still wrong with Coulson."

She frowned.

"Maybe I’m imagining it."

"Someone who has died once is bound to come back a little different."

Evenson immediately understood what she was talking about.

"And Coulson’s experience was hardly ordinary."

He leaned against the wall.

"He may remember things that aren’t meant to be remembered by the living."

Evenson’s expression became slightly more serious.

"Those aren’t pleasant memories."

He glanced toward Melinda.

"Nick Fury is probably working on helping him adjust."

Melinda nodded.

"I doubt anyone would enjoy remembering Hell."

She looked thoughtful.

"The director should be able to help him recover eventually."

"Of course."

Evenson nodded confidently.

"You should trust S.H.I.E.L.D."

Then he added with absolute conviction,

"And more importantly, you should trust Nick Fury."

"That makes me feel better."

Melinda stood and headed toward her room.

"This time, regardless of everything else, I owe you my thanks."

"Don’t worry about it."

Evenson shrugged.

He headed toward his own room as well.

As it happened, his room was directly beside Clea’s.

It was also directly across from Melinda’s.

Evenson had just reached his door and was about to open it when Melinda’s door suddenly swung open.

A hand shot out.

She grabbed his wrist.

Before Evenson could react, Melinda pulled him straight into her room.

"What are you doing?"

Melinda closed the door behind them.

Her expression remained perfectly calm.

"Showing my appreciation."

She paused.

"That’s all."

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