“For someone so intuitive,” he said, shaking his head, “sometimes you only see what you expect to see.”

“And you’re okay with this?...” I studied his calm expression, my own features anything but calm.“Noooo…” Aeron drew the word out lazily with a slow, deliberate shake of his head. His face remained strangely composed.“Then can I please have some of whatever sedative you took…because this,” I waved my hand, motioning from his head to his feet, “is way too cool under pressure.”

“I can only imagine what goes on in that head of yours…” he teased. “I assure you I haven’t taken up black magic, ritualistic sacrifice, or—”“Plushophilia?” I tagged on.“Excuse me?…” came his half-confused, half-intrigued reaction.“An obsession with stuffed animals,” I clarified. “I mean, you are a young one…”“Where did you come up with that?” He kept his hands firmly covering my eyes, but I could hear the amused smile in his voice. “Is that even a real word?”“I’m a doctor, I know these things,” I shrugged.”

“Safeguard your weaknesses, for your enemy will always use them against you. But more importantly …” He raised a single bony finger, waving it rhythmically to the cadence of his words. “Safeguard your true strengths. If he knows not what you are capable of, he will always underestimate you.” He fixed his unflinching eyes on mine. “And you are not to be underestimated.”

“So you had to piss me off badly enough activate some primal instinct?” I clenched my jaw, grinding my teeth. “I think all you managed to ‘draw out’ was fuming rage. I could rip your head off right now.”“Save that for later,” he waved his hand dismissively. “You have work to do right now.”

“A teasing smirk flitted across his face, as he completed his thought, “I’ll try not to take it too hard if I fail miserably, because you can be the world’s greatest skeptic…”“Nah…” I coughed out a little chuckle, “not when you’re involved. I’m your number one fan…You couldn’t shake me if you tried.” I gave him a playful wink, adding musingly, “Though I might stop short of hanging out in the bushes with binoculars…”“Well, then,” he grinned, “clearly you’re not my number one fan.”

“Yeah, sure,” I scoffed. “You’re the picture of respectability and moral character…You expect me to believe you were your parents’ worst nightmare? What was your criminal act of choice—drunken bar fights? Or maybe grand theft auto? Don’t tell me you sold the crown jewels to buy drugs…It’s so disappointingly cliché.”