Writer trapped in a receptionist's body

Anger? ‘Tis safe never. Bar it! Use love.

Spell that backward and you get:

Evoles ut ira breve nefas sit; regna!

Which is Latin for:

“You boys want some tea?” you call out as you hear a soft footfall from the living room. There’s a pause followed by a sigh.

“You’re taking all the fun out of this,” a voice complains, and three men dressed all in black come around the corner. You’ve already got the kettle going.

Once they’ve had their tea (Barry’s favourite is chamomile) and they’ve begrudgingly allowed you to wash the mugs first - who knows how long this particular kidnapping will last? - you turn around and let them tie your hands behind your back and blindfold you before they bundle you out of the house and into their van.

The trip takes longer this time - have the headquarters been moved again? - but before long, you’re being hauled by your arms down corridors that don’t feel familiar, but certainly smell familiar: the distinctive odour of marijuana.

You’re hauled through a door at the end of the hallway and, as is almost tradition at this point, thrown unceremoniously to the floor. Someone removes your blindfold and you sit up on your knees.

“Hey Greg,” you greet the villain, panting slightly, “it’s been a while.”

Greg, wearing casual denim and a monochrome t-shirt, crosses one leg over the other and snorts.

“And here I thought that your boyfriend had finally learned his lesson,” he says with a sneer in his voice. You shrug.

“Tony’s persistent,” you say apologetically. “And his heart’s in the right place.”

“So you say,” Greg says, waving a dismissive hand. “Yet he always targets my operation before all others. Mine, which is probably the most benign, and shouldn’t even be classed as criminal, if you ask me.”

You nod. You know that he grows and supplies marijuana for medical purposes for those who need it most. And darn it, there it is again: the spark of admiration for what he does, even though it’s not legal. You’ve read the articles; you know that the benefits far outweigh the risk. Not many people would do the right thing in this case. Although it was just a matter of time before the laws caught up to the science.

“It probably doesn’t help that you keep kidnapping me,” you suggest. “It gives him a solid reason to hold a grudge against you.”

Greg smiles that lopsided smile of his, and you feel the slightest blush creeping into your cheeks. You hope he doesn’t see it.

“True,” he murmured. “It does get results, though. But hopefully he never gives me reason to carry out my threat. I would miss your company.”

Before you can figure out how to react to that, he waves his hand at his henchmen. They haul you to your feet and guide you out of the room.

--

Later, in your usual cell, you sit leaning back against the wall, deep in thought. Truth be told, your boyfriend has been grating on your nerves for a while. His crime-fighting techniques are so effective that the local populace regards him as their own personal superhero, and it’s going to his head. Puffed up with his own self-importance, he barely gives you the time of day anymore, though it’s obvious he still cares for you.

But perhaps here, you could do some REAL good for the community.

You consider this carefully. Despite being probably the least criminal out of the organisations that Tony usually focuses on, Greg is better than the rest of them put together when it comes to evading law enforcement. There’s little concern in that department. Greg’s charming smile and kind soul don’t hurt either. In fact, they may be the real reason you hesitate to leave.

But if you join with him, Greg loses his leverage.

You smile and lie down, lacing your fingers behind your head.

Well, you think, if I can’t decide now, there’s always next time.