Ah yes, Cary thought, another expectation of pleasant conversation shattered.

“Hey,” said Odila, better known as Quirky Dream (whatever the fat flying hell a Quirky Dream is, Cary thought). She gave Cary a lazy salute that turned into an equally lazy wave. “‘Sup?”

“Um. Not much?” Cary said.

“Cool beans,” said Odila. “Let’s keep it that way, yeah?” Cary had to deal with a lot of stage smiles already, but Odila’s was by far the least concerned with the polite affectation the world expected of her smile. No, Cary thought, not just unconcerned--so proud that she’s smug about it.

“So,” Cary said. “Odila, right? Mind giving me your last name?”

“You got a file, and you seem all smart and book read,” said Odila. “Wouldn’t want to step on your professional method.”

“My professional method is to get the full name of my client from my client,” said Cary. “Though if I didn’t know better, I don’t think you’d really care.”

“Fyoo. Testy, testy,” said Odila, shaking her head. “Odila Caro Dean. I assure you, O Great Office Lady, the pleasure is all mine.”

“You know, if you’re really worried about style, it doesn’t gel well with the ‘Charming Belligerence’ routine,” said Cary.

“Sweetie, I’m a professional. I can make anything work,” said Odila. “Don’t you worry your pretty head.”

If I wanted your crap, I’d squeeze it out of your head, Cary thought. Though she had a feeling she wouldn’t need to squeeze hard.

“Anyway, great news,” said Odila. She fanned out her fingers and waved them like a pair of spotlights. “I just wanted to shuffle on by and let you know you’re off the hook. I’ve got and got an interview!”

“You...what?” Cary asked.

“An interview! For a real job! Yay me!” said Odila, giving a single, sarcastic clap.

“Where for?” Cary asked.

“Oh. Totally forgot,” said Odila. “I’ve got it written down. Somewhere.”

“So what do you want?” asked Cary. “A hug?”

“AaaaaAAAAAW. No. Actually, I’d never like to see your face again. Pretty please?”

“Well, you’ve got to sign off some papers first,” said Cary. “And I have to do a final report--so sit your ass down is what I’m saying, we’re not done.”

“I dunno, this seems like a great place to pick up for the next appointment,” said Odila, standing and sliding her chair back into the desk. “Gotta run now--I got a big interview to remember.”

“Okay, what did I do to provoke this?” said Cary. “You’re acting ridiculous.”

“Oh, don’t take it personal, Care Bear!” Odila shot back. “It’s not you, it’s my problems with authority figures. A-bye now!”

Cary didn’t even bother to stop her. She stared blankly as Odila pinched the edge of her tongue between her teeth, gave a cheeky wave, and left the office. So began the second headache in a week.

---

“Everything okay Cary?” asked Terra, the intrepid volunteer who was also wrapped in the DCT fiasco, and thus standing as corroborating evidence that this wasn’t a mad fever dream of Cary’s imagination. There was a time when Terra stood out, with the same short brown hair and ruffled FCU sweatshirt she’d wear to bum around her dorm on the weekend. But now, she was a shockingly normal face, and normalcy was something Cary now clung to.

“Bad day or something?” she asked quizzically, pen swiveling on what looked like homework notes. “You’re hitting the watercooler hard.”

“Headache,” said Cary, tipping another plastic sip cup down like a shot glass. “I suppose I should happy I only have to deal with them one at a time.”

“Oh, you mean DCT?” said Terra, her cheery tone eagerly disagreeing with Cary’s ire. “Man, I can’t believe I acted like I did when they first got here! I made a total idiot of myself.”

“You can’t make yourself a bigger idiot than they are,” said Cary. “They’re treating this with all the sincerity of a goddamn theme park!”

“They’re probably all on edge after what happened,” said Terra. “Oh, right, you’re going to be talking with Sexy Dream tomorrow, right?”

“God save me,” said Cary, bearing down another cup.

“You’ll have to tell me how it goes,” said Terra. “I’ve been really worried about her.”

“Why?” Cary asked. “She your favorite?”

“Oh no, Cool Dream is my favorite! She’s the best!” said Terra, at a pop too loud and a squeak too high. “I mean uh, w-well, it’s good to see that Quirky Dream’s in a good mood.”

“That’s a good mood?!” said Cary, crushing the sippy cup in her hand.

“Oh, definitely,” said Terra. “She was devastated when the news got out, since she and Sexy Dream got their start as music partners. They’re really close, you know?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” said Cary.

“Wait, Cary, you don’t know what happened?” asked Terra.

“I know their band’s on the rocks,” said Cary, throwing the tiny cup with full force into the trash can. Why was everyone demanding to-the-minute knowledge of the one sect of clientele that didn’t need it? “Something about one of them getting frisky with the producer?”

“Oh my God Cary!” said Terra. Her voice wavered between a terrified squeak and an angry retort. “That ‘producer’ was caught bragging over email about making Sexy Dream sleep with him when she was sixteen!”

“She...what?” Cary said.

“Sexy Dream had a music career before she got into DCT,” said Terra. “She was trying to be a musician back in high school, but stopped for several years. If that turns out to be why…” she sighed. “Anyway, a lot of people are upset about it. So even if you don’t like them, you could try to be a little more sensitive.”

“Y-yeah, you’re right,” said Cary. “I didn’t know. I’m...I’m really sorry.”

“Hmm...well, you look it,” said Terra, giving a small smile before returning to her notes. “Since you finally answered my Mimemo request, I guess I can forgive you. It only took, what, six months?”

“I’m not really into that stuff,” said Cary. “I only use it to message my mom.”

“Oh so you message? Sweet!” said Terra. “I’ll keep that in mind then.” She gave a small giggle, as Cary closed her eyes again.