Suits me

In working on my sequel, I've discovered another good reason to get at least the first several chapters done before sending book one off into the big world: I'm finding things I thought I needed for set up in the first novel that I can do without, which equals further reduced word count. Hooray!

Ms. Wildstar turns in front of the mirror, admiring her black-clad form. "Does this make me look fat?"

Zsmed ventures over from the crate of adverbs he's been sorting with Nekar and hands her a card.

"Curvaceously?" She blushes. “That’s quite a word.”

He shrugs. "I found it in the box. I thought of you when I came across it."

I snicker to myself. Really? He’s working hard to get back in her graces. Not that Ms. Wildstar isn't shapely, it’s just that she's more the tall, gawky teen just coming into her body type than Delilah who has been drinking milk and has all the right curves in all the right places.

"Just because it’s in the box, doesn't mean it works. That's why she got rid of a lot of those." She points at me as if I'm some distant giant that can't possibly see or hear them.

Zsmed admires the sleek, skin-tight suit adorning Ms. Wildstar's body. "Where did that come from?"

"I found it lying on the floor this morning. I've never seen it here before."

"Must have come from the sequel. Did you take a look at it yet?"

She waves her hand at the hill of freshly crumpled and torn paper beside my desk. "Some. At least we finally have some new reading material."

He picks up a few pieces and holds them together, scanning the text. "Is it any good?"

"It's different. Looks like everything is getting trashed so far, I don’t have much to go by. Much better than the stuff we came from though."

"So what's the suit for?"

"Armor, as far as I can tell from what I’ve pieced together."

Zsmed glances at Nekar. "Uh, don't the main characters already have armored coats? Did they really need suits too?"

"Apparently not." Ms. Wildstar pokes at the suit. Her finger doesn’t even make an indent in the heavy cloth. "According to the discarded text, it’s supposed to be even stronger than the coats." She chews her lip for a moment. "Want to try it out?"

"I don’t think it would fit me."

"No, silly. I want to see how it works. I'm sick of sitting around here doing nothing. Borrow a gun from Nekar."

“You want me to shoot you? Are you crazy?”

No, no, no. What the hell? Ms. Wildstar is getting far too Ms. MC for my comfort. I put my foot down.

The room shakes. Paper goes flying. Characters fall to the floor.

I consider not taking myself so literally next time.

“Sorry about that.” I help Zsmed back to his feet. “There will be no gunfire, no armor testing, and no borrowing guns.”

Ms. Wildstar crosses her arms over her chest. “You created this armor. You should know there’s no harm in testing it out. Come on.”

“No. Take it off. Now.”

She sighs and reaches for a zipper. There isn’t one. She runs her hands over the suit, finding nothing to aid in its removal. “How does one remove this thing?”

I scratch my chin. “This is the problem with playing with discarded tech, Ms. Wildstar. I have no idea how it gets put on or taken off. I hadn’t written that yet. I can tell you how it’s created and by whom, but that’s all I know.”

“Well, that doesn’t help me at all.” She pouts. “Does anyone have a scissors or a knife?”

“Why don’t you go check over there?” I point to a mountain of crumpled, yellowed paper. I can’t remember editing out either of those items, but I’d rather she kept herself busy for a while. Goodness only knows what kind of trouble she’ll end up next.