Rimelion: The Exploiter

Lola pulled away from the hug with visible reluctance, her professional mask sliding back into place even as her cheeks stayed pink. “Alright,” she said, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “If you’re meeting Riker in—” she checked her holo, “—two and a half hours, we need to make you presentable.”

I groaned and flopped dramatically onto my back. “I’m already presentable. I’m a queen. It’s literally in the title.”

“You’re wearing the same outfit you fought in yesterday,” Lola countered, moving toward my closet with purpose.

I glanced down at myself. Right. Still in the full Rimelion gear, all of it perfectly clean although I’d spent hours in agricultural fields and probably gotten dirt everywhere. “See?” I gestured at myself. “Self-cleaning. No wrinkles. Magically perfect. I could wear this forever, and it would still look pristine.”

Lola stopped at the closet door and turned to give me a look. “That’s exactly the problem.”

“What problem?” I sat up. “It’s literally perfect.”

“Lady,” she said, pulling open the closet door, “when was the last time you actually opened this?”

I blinked. “Uh…”

She waited.

“...Rarely?” I offered weakly.

“Never,” Lola said flatly. “You have an entire wardrobe of Earth clothes I picked, that you’ve never touched because your magical princess outfit does everything for you.”

“Magical queen outfit,” I corrected automatically.

She ignored me, already rifling through hangers with the focus of someone on a mission. “You’re lazy, Lady. Fantastically, impressively lazy.”

“I prefer ‘efficiently resource-optimized,’” I said, lying back down.

“You wore the same outfit for three days straight last week.”

“It never gets dirty and has pockets!”

“That’s not the point!” Lola pulled out a hanger and held it up, examining a deep blue blazer with a critical eye. “The point is that you’re meeting Riker—Riker, who probably spent an hour this morning deciding which rainbow coat to wear—and you can’t just show up looking exactly the same as you do every single day.”

I propped myself up on my elbows. “Why not? It’s regal. Queenly. Very… ice princess.”

“Because,” Lola said, setting the blazer aside and pulling out another option, “you need to remind him that you exist in both worlds. That you’re not just the Ice Queen of Rimelion—you’re also Charlie, CEO of Rimebreak, who understands Earth business and politics.”

I opened my mouth to argue.

She cut me off. “And before you say your outfit can just transform into whatever you want—yes, I know. But have you actually done that? Except for that one time I forced you? Or do you just let it default to the same five pieces because it’s easier?”

I closed my mouth.

She raised an eyebrow.

“...Maybe,” I muttered.

“Exactly.” She turned back to the closet with renewed determination. “So we’re doing this properly. Now get up and help me choose.”

I sighed but rolled off the bed, padding over to stand beside her, and the closet was surprisingly full. Lola was already pulling out options, laying them across the bed as if she were a military strategist planning an assault.

“Too formal,” she muttered, tossing aside a stiff pencil skirt. “Too casual.” The sweater joined the reject pile. “Too…” She paused, holding up a dress that was absolutely covered in sequins. “...Why do you own this?”

“Sponsor gift?” I guessed. “I think it came last week with a note about ‘expanding my brand presence.’ You were in Rimelion, so I asked your assistants to just stash it somewhere. I guess they picked my closet.”

She made a disgusted sound and tossed it onto what I was mentally calling the “burn pile.”

I watched her work, a small smile tugging at my lips. “You’re really into this, huh?”

“Someone has to be,” she said without looking up. “Now—what kind of impression do you want to make?”

“Uh… competent?”

“More specific.”

“Not… drowning in responsibility?”

Lola paused and turned to look at me. “Lady…”

“I’m kidding,” I said quickly, though I wasn’t entirely sure I was. “I want to look like someone Riker should take seriously. Someone who’s actually built something real.” I hesitated. “Someone who’s changed.”

Lola’s eyes met mine, and something warm flickered in them. “Good answer.” She turned back to the closet and pulled out another hanger, examined the blouse with increasing frustration, and tossed it onto the reject pile.

“No, absolutely not.”

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her work with a smile. She’d been at this for ten minutes now, and the “acceptable” pile was still empty while the “burn pile” had grown into a small mountain.

“Too plain,” she muttered, discarding a perfectly nice sweater. “Too corporate. Too—why is this inside out?” She held up a shirt as if it were a mana bomb.

“I might have just… thrown things in there,” I admitted. “When I see something here, I just hide it and it stops being a cleaning problem.”

She shot me a look that could have frozen water. “I told you to wear it.” Then she went back to searching with even more determination, hangers scraping against the rod in rapid succession.

“You know,” I said casually, “you’re really cute when you’re frustrated.”

Lola’s hands froze mid-reach.

“Like, the way your nose scrunches up? Adorable.”

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn around. Just pulled out another hanger with slightly more force than necessary. I grinned and pushed off the doorframe, moving closer. “And the way you’re pretending you didn’t hear me right now? Even cuter.”

“Lady,” she said, her voice carefully controlled, “I’m trying to work.”

“Mm-hmm.” I leaned against the closet frame beside her, close enough that our shoulders touched. “You’re very good at working. Super good. Some might say the best.”

She pulled out what looked like a blazer, examined it for half a second, and tossed it aside. “Flattery won’t make this closet less of a disaster.”

“Who said I was flattering?” I tilted my head, watching her face. “I’m just making observations. Objective, factual observations about how—”

“Lady,” she interrupted, still not looking at me.

I grinned wider. “You know, if you’re going to keep saying ‘Lady’ like that, maybe I should start calling you something special too.”

That got her. She turned slightly, one eyebrow raised. “Like what?”

“I don’t know…” I pretended to think about it, tapping my chin. “Sweetie?”

The blush that exploded across Lola’s face was magnificent. She spun back to the closet immediately, grabbing another hanger without even looking at it. “That’s—you can’t—”

“Can’t what, sweetie?”

She made a strangled noise and walked away.

Just… walked away.

Straight past me, past the bed, past the reject pile, her fingers already flying across her holo-tablet with a focus that said she was absolutely thinking about what I’d just said.

I blinked, surprised. “What?”

She kept typing, her back to me.

“Lola?”

More typing.

“Did I—” I started, worry creeping in. Had I pushed too far? Was she actually upset?

Then she stopped and turned around. Her face was still pink, but her expression had shifted into a small smile. “We’re going shopping,” she announced.

I stared at her. “What?”

“Shopping,” she repeated, already making notes on her tablet. “Your closet is a lost cause. We have—” she checked the time, “—two hours and three minutes. We’re going shopping.”

“But—”

“Non-negotiable.”

I processed this, then brightened. “Can we go with Roberto? My dress from last time is from him.”

Lola’s stylus stopped mid-stroke. She looked up slowly, eyes widening. “Wait. That beautiful and sexy one you wore to Riker’s Tower?”

“Just the one,” I confirmed with a grin.

Her expression shifted through several emotions at once, surprise, appreciation, calculation, and something that looked suspiciously like approval. “Roberto got you that dress?”

“Well, his friend Bernardo did. Famiglia discount and everything.”

Lola’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm usually reserved for discovering a perfectly organized spreadsheet. “Then yes. Absolutely yes. We’re calling Roberto immediately.” She was already pulling up her contacts.

“Wait, you’re actually excited about this?” I asked, moving closer.

“Lady,” she said, not looking up from her frantic typing, “if Roberto’s friend can produce something that good on short notice, then he’s exactly who we need now.” She paused, then whispered, “Plus… you looked incredible in that dress.”

My heart did a little flip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, then seemed to realize what she’d admitted and immediately went back to her tablet. “Which is why we’re getting you something equally impressive for this brunch. Now call him.”

I pulled out my holophone, still grinning. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t,” she warned, but I could see the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

It rang twice before a cheerful, heavily accented voice answered. “Pronto! Charlie bella! How can Roberto help you today?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Roberto, I need a ride. And your friend Bernardo.”

“AH!” His voice practically exploded through the speaker with delight. “Another dress! Perfetto! You go to meet someone importante, sì?”

“Riker,” I admitted. “Brunch in two hours.”

There was a pause, then a low whistle. “Mamma mia, that rainbow peacock? You need to look fantastica! Bernardo will make you shine!” The sound of an engine roaring to life came through the phone. “I am already driving! Where do I pick you up?”

“I’m at the Rimebreak building,” I said. “Can you come to the underground parking?”

“Signorina, I work there now! I am already downstairs!” He laughed. “You think Roberto forgets? I have the fancy card and everything! I can park anywhere!”

I blinked, glancing at Lola, who was listening with an amused expression. “Wait, you’re already here?”

“Sì! The other day finished the training thing. Boring, Madonna, so many slides about stats. But now? Now Roberto is ready!” He yelled into his phone. “I picked Rfoc. Deep brown with purple streaks. They drink like champions and have the fastest mounts. Perfetto for me, no?”

“That’s—” I started laughing. “That’s perfect, Roberto. We’ll be down in two minutes.”

“Take your time, bella! Roberto waits for his Queen!” He said it with such genuine pride that my chest felt warm.

I hung up and looked at Lola. “He’s already in the parking garage.”

She was already heading for the door. “Of course he is. Come on, Lady.”

“Stop calling me that,” I teased, following her. “I thought we agreed on sweetie?”

She walked faster, her ears visibly pink.

I grinned and hurried to catch up.

The elevator down to the parking garage was silent except for the soft hum of machinery and Lola’s very fierce typing on her holo-tablet.

I could practically feel her trying not to think about what had just happened upstairs.

The doors opened with a soft chime, revealing the underground parking level—rows of sleek electric vehicles, a few vintage combustion cars, and there, gleaming under the fluorescent lights like a jewel in a corporate cave—

Roberto’s Italian sports car.

It looked even more ridiculous in the stark professional environment of the Rimebreak garage. Mismatched paint, dented bumper, chrome exhaust that absolutely did not meet any modern emissions standards. Beautiful in its complete defiance of everything around it.

Roberto was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, grinning like he’d just won a race.

“Signorine!” He pushed off the car with a flourish. “Ready for Roberto’s magical transport service, sì?”

I walked over, Lola close behind me, and that’s when I noticed the problem.

Two seats.

That was it.

Roberto followed my gaze and winced, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah… sì. She is beautiful, but not… how you say… spacious?” He gestured apologetically. “Only one can come. Unless…” He paused, grinning awkwardly. “Unless someone doesn’t mind sitting on a lap?”

I turned to look at Lola.

She was already shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” I said, moving to the passenger side and opening the door. “It’ll be fine.”

“Lady, I can take a different car and meet you—”

“Roberto,” I interrupted, turning to him. “If we do that, you’ll go slower, right?”

Roberto’s face went through several emotions, but settled on a hesitant nod. “Sì, bella. For safety, I will drive at half my usual at most. Slow and careful.”

I slid into the passenger seat and patted my lap, looking up at Lola with my most innocent smile. “See? Problem solved.”

She stared at me. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Lady.”

“Yes, sweetie.”

The glare she gave me could have frozen the seas in the elven lands. But I just smiled back, all sunshine and zero shame.

“You are horrible,” she said finally.

“That’s me,” I agreed cheerfully, patting my lap again.

For a long moment, Lola just stood there, holo-tablet clutched to her chest like a shield, cheeks already turning pink in anticipation.

Then, with the air of someone making a tactical retreat rather than admitting defeat, she carefully lowered herself onto my lap.

Her weight settled against me, warm and real and perfectly Lola-shaped. She held herself stiffly at first, like if she stayed professional enough, the situation would somehow become less intimate.

I wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, and she made a small strangled sound.

Roberto, who had been watching this entire exchange with growing delight, blinked. “You two…?”

I glanced up at Lola, who was now sitting on my lap, her face red enough to qualify as a traffic signal, her holo-tablet held in front of her like it could somehow restore her dignity.

“Yes,” I said simply.

Roberto’s entire face lit up. “AH! Madonna! Fantastico!” He clapped his hands together, genuinely thrilled. “Charlie bella, I am so happy for you!” He practically bounced on his heels. “This is perfetto! Bellissimo! Love is—” he kissed his fingertips and flung the gesture skyward, “—magnifico!”

Lola buried her face in her tablet, possibly trying to will herself into another dimension.

I laughed and squeezed her waist gently. “Thanks, Roberto.”

He was already sliding into the driver’s seat, still grinning. “Now! We get you the best dress! Something that makes that rainbow peacock Riker weep with envy!” He started the engine, and it purred to life with that distinctive growl. “Bernardo will see you both and know exactly what to do!”

The car pulled out of the parking spot smoothly. Roberto was actually keeping his promise about driving carefully, sort of, and we headed toward the exit ramp.

Lola finally lowered her tablet slightly, just enough to peek at me over the top of it.

I winked.

She made another strangled sound and went back to pretending her holo was the most fascinating thing in the universe.

Roberto, still smirking in the driver’s seat, turned on the radio. Soft Italian music filled the car, something romantic and old-fashioned.

“Perfect, no?” he said, glancing at us with pure mischief in his eyes.

“Perfect,” I agreed, holding Lola a little closer.

She didn’t pull away.