"I need something," Daria said with a sweet little smile as she slipped into Jameson's chambers.

"At least you've decided to be straightforward for once," Jameson replied without looking up from the book he'd been reading. Whenever his patron needed something, it tended to end in one of two ways - and both of them involved nudity. And honestly, he wasn't in the mood.

"I figured I'd be honest," Daria explained. "Since it's about the truth."

This caused Jameson to look up, finally. He marked his page with a well-abused kinai feather - the life's work of Doctor Jarratt would patiently wait if he needed it to - and eyed Daria. Death was dressed conservatively, compared to usual, her arms covered but shoulders bare and only about half her cleavage showing. Tight pants clung over her thighs and calves before ducking into silver-spangled boots. And her hair was up - she'd been riding, which both was and wasn't a surprise.

"You've made me curious."

"I don't have a Spectir," Daria said firmly as she marched over to sit on the edge of Jameson's desk. "And I don't have any particular talents when it comes to knowing whether someone's telling the truth or not. Well, if it's not in the Book, at least."

"Do you need to borrow Ashen?" Jameson questioned. "Or..."

"I want to know if you have any spells or potions or something I can use just this once," Daria interrupted. "There's something I desperately need to know and apparently Sister Ammeia doesn't find it nearly as important as I do because she refuses to come help me."

Jameson was tempted to comment that pouting over a sibling slight didn't suit a goddess of Daria's caliber, but he held his tongue.

"I have nothing of the sort," Jameson replied. "Would proper torture not suffice?"

"Jameson!"

"What?" Jameson questioned, grinning so his fangs were visible. "That is how we always did it in the past."

"I can't," Daria said with a headshake. "I don't even know who to torture!"

Jameson blinked. "What exactly do you need to know that you don't know who you need to hear it from?"

Daria sighed and sprawled over Jameson's desk, full breasts pressed against the weathered cover of Dr. Jarratt's book. "Someone took the last of those amazing apples from Mana Corani. And no one will admit to it."

She looked up into his eyes, holding him in her bottomless gaze. For the briefest of seconds, Jameson wanted to say something stupid. But instead...

He pushed back his chair and dusted off his robes before starting the physical transformation to his human body. And then stretching, he shook out his long, red braids and scratched his scalp where his ears had been. His whole body felt a little odd without fur--

"Jameson?"

"Apples from Mana Corani?" he questioned as he held out a hand. "Not the most romantic of dates--"

Daria laughed as she righted herself and then took his hand. "You? Romantic? Never..."

He said a silent prayer to Ammeia, thanking her for her confidence and promising he'd leave her a few of Mana Corani's apples as soon as he could. And as he cast the spell to move them through the world under the world, Jameson made a quick vow to never take the last apple from the kitchens again.