CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE

It was two in the morning when Steelbeak found himself in the hall in front of his apartment once more. And he was certain Sally would never speak to him again. He recalled his promise to her well, which was why he was unlocking his door as opposed to knocking on hers. Though Tegwen was not with him, the date had neither gone nor ended poorly. Surprising, though, since she left him with a tauntingly shy smile and nothing more intimate than a blown kiss.

By all means, he could have gone to see Sally; it's not like he was exclusive with the petite blonde. Even if he was, she wouldn't have known what he was up to within the walls of F.O.W.L. He didn't call on Sally for no other reason than he was lost in his own thoughts about the evening. And there was a lot to think about.

Steelbeak let himself into his apartment, wincing at the overwhelming smell of fresh paint as he dropped his keys and clearance badges on the table just beside the door. He left his shoes beneath the table where he left his keys and headed for his kitchenette, where he sat with a heavy sigh. It was too late for coffee. Maybe it was too early. He debated about going to sleep that night, figuring getting three hours of rest would be more detrimental than beneficial.

Besides which, going to sleep would mean he'd have to find some way to shut off his racing, whirling brain. Unlikely.

Tegwen was enigmatic as the textbook enigma came. She was wrapped in so many different -- random -- layers, all of which he had this overwhelming desire to strip her of.

He'd caught her on more than one occasion that night staring down her bill at the people around them; an impressive feat for such a short girl! Steelbeak had known true débutantes -- not a one of them gave him the time of day, even back then -- and she had more class in a single strand of hair than all of them had in their entire bodies, combined.

She was such a good girl; obviously raised among the affluent. But somewhere beneath those layers of snobbish galas and fur coats, women oozing their extravagant and typically gaudy jewelry, and hob-nobbing with famous and influential alike, he found a very bad girl.

A bad girl with a terrible and terrific naughty streak.

Tegwen had been absolutely appalled when he told her he could work many of the games at Goliath and Bugs so that they could rake in the prize tickets. To make the most out of the forty dollar game card he'd purchased for her, so he'd claimed. Besides, with the prices of everything at the establishment -- from the games to the alcoholic beverages and food -- he thought they wouldn't even notice if someone screwed with a few games a little to reap more prize tickets. The prizes were crap, anyway. Everyone knew that.



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