Vox Mentis

Let's try to get this one non-verbally. Your working premise: you find at least one of them very attractive and would like them to come over here, but you're not bold enough to initiate a conversation. Give a sly wave if you feel it's necessary to get them to come over.

You give a "come-hither" wave to the boys across the street. One of them sees you, elbows his friends, and they start crossing.

"Nonverbal sexual invitation. Four."

"That wasn't-" you start, but more people are already coming.

Idea part 2: Next time Jane gives us a point or a strike, let's see if we can get her to cross over to the other side of the road, maybe by saying our next tactic will work better with someone standing on the opposite street corner. That's a lie, though, we just want her to cross over so that when she comes back to us we get a point for having gotten her to do that.

"I've got a cool one coming up, but I'll need you to go stand on the other side."

Jane's lip twitches. "Very well." She crosses the street.

"Shit, never mind, that's not going to work," you call over to her, and she makes her way back, a bemused look on her face.

"Verbal... deception, I suppose," she says. "Five."

~

"Diversion by implied threat," Jane says. "Twenty-one."

You've worked up a sweat. It's hard work, this persuasion stuff. "What's a pass, again?"

Jane's sunglasses regard you. "Five."

"Five," you echo. You feel good. A teenage girl in big headphones rounds the corner, heading down the sidewalk. You have no idea what you're going to say to the little whore, but it's something. You open your mouth.

~

You leave the freeway and pass through a series of snow-sunk towns. You fall asleep without meaning to and wake from guns and blood and dead girls. There's drool on your chin. In the high beams, the road glitters and vanishes into night thick as a blanket. "Where are we?"

"Safe." Tom peers at the road. "Almost." You're slowing. The pickup truck's lights swing across a driveway. You see a wire fence and wooden posts and a sign that says: MCCORMACK & SONS STOCK SALES. You come to a stop and the pickup gargles. "Hmm," Tom says.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Do I trust you?"

"I phrased that badly," Tom says. "I mean, if I tell you your life depends on doing exactly as I say, without hesitation, can I rely on you to do it?"