Sometimes Jess wondered what kind of people she would be friends with if she hadnât been raised by people who took fatal curiosity to a whole other level, if she wasnât trained to be a spy on some level since before she could even walk. Now, the people that she found herself attracted to, the people she put time into, were the ones who were interesting, or useful, or novel â rarely was anyone a mixture of the three. Robbie might prove an exception to that rule, though there always was one (Jess wasnât much fond of rules. Even the rules of espionage could be bent if you were good enough at what you did, and she was always good enough). Would she be friends with people who were confident, like Carol, people who encouraged her to carry out her crazy schemes? Would she find understanding in Nat, who always liked dissecting reactions, who treated people like case studies even without meaning to, in the same way as Jess did? Would she be standing here in front of Robbie if she didnât find herself wondering more about the demon behind his eyes? She wasnât sure â but she knew that she liked him, far outside of what he was capable of now. âI never went to school,â Jess said, with a shrug of her shoulders. She couldnât miss something she never had, as far as she was concerned. âIf itâs anything like Mean Girls, I resent it. That looks like a really good time, apart from getting hit by a bus at the end.â Ask Jess how to infiltrate a foreign embassy with nothing but a fake passport and a hairclip and she could do it. Ask her to balance an equation and she was useless.
âWell someoneâs been practising,â Jess said with a smirk. âDonât tell me my trivia questions are getting stale.â It was interesting, though, seeing something that got a reaction besides a cut off laugh or rolled eyes â it meant Jess was getting closer to something, and she always got a little thrill from that. âDo I even want to know how much one of those run for?â she asked, knowing that the answer, as always, was yes. âIâd say travel, but I already do that by sticking my thumb out and decking my way into Madripoor,â Jess replied, âso Iâll go for the standard â party boat, a la Wolf of Wall Street. I absolutely hate water, and fear is the enemy, so what better way to tackle that thing head on than to party my life away on my own deck, right?â Ghost Spider. The name was instantly familiar, as was the suit that gave Jess serious envy. âShe hangs out with my kid! Sheâs great, honestly. Look at that, we have mutual friends and everything.â Dog people ⌠âIâm pretty sure thatâs just werewolves.â There probably were werewolves out there. Gross. âWait, really?â Jess asked, and now it was her turn to perk up with interest. âYou can still feel it?â
When youâd been to Hell and back, it wasnât hard to recognize people whoâd done the same. Robbie had seen the flames of the underworld reflected in Jessâs eyes the first time heâd met her, had understood as sheâd approached him in a warehouse full of bodies heâd put down that she wasnât the sort of person who was content sitting back and doing nothing at any given moment. She had the Devil in her, just like he did. And, just like him, she wasnât afraid to let the Devil loose. It was necessary sometimes, something most people didnât quite understand. They wanted the world to be generous, wanted forgiveness to fall from the skies like rain, but that wasnât how things worked. The world never gave Robbie anything he didnât take for himself, and he knew Jess understood that. People like them couldnât rely on the kindness of angels. Sometimes, the Devil was all you had. âMy experience wasnât much like Mean Girls,â he admitted with a shrug, thinking back briefly. His high school experience had been teachers who didnât understand the weight of the shit he was carrying and students whose lives seemed so goddamn easy that it was hard not to resent them. Gabe always made it seem like Robbie ought to regret dropping out, but he never had. Heâd never felt more free than the day heâd walked out those doors with the knowledge that he was never going back.Â
âIâve thought about it,â he admitted with a shrug, still grinning. Of course heâd thought about it. When you grew up with nothing, it was hard not to imagine what youâd do if you suddenly found yourself loaded. âUpwards of $17 million, depending on the condition. They donât come on the market often. Not many of them left.â Rarity was a sure-fire way to make things more expensive. People always wanted things they couldnât have, after all. âYeah? Shit, I might have to hitch a ride on the party boat, then. I get the feeling we could have a hell of a time with it.â Heâd never been one for the water, either, but she was right --- exposure therapy was a good a way as any to get rid of that discomfort. âGuess we run in the same crowds,â he shrugged. âOh, Jesus Christ. You tell me werewolves are real and I swear Iâm out of here.â Some things were just a little too ridiculous, even for a guy with the Devil riding shotgun. He raised a brow at her question, tilting his head to the side slightly. âYou think, what, I just donât feel anything? Nah, I still feel it. It doesnât tickle, either.âÂ