Pawn sat working on his laptop in the waiting area of the Mitsuboshi dojo. He was wrapping up the GovSec report before his class started. Seated two chairs down from him was a junior-level student in her early fifties named Gayle. Pawn specifically remembered her.

She was an attractive woman with blue eyes, but Pawn had come to recognize her by the very faint smell of the perfume she wore. The smell reminded him of flowers and of a nice teacher he had years ago. He and Gayle had been partnered on a few occasions an honor for a junior student and although she was the oldest in her class, she took her training seriously.

Once, after an instructor demonstration, he heard her mention something about a very subtle but important movement all the other students missed. This impressed Pawn and he began to respect her silently. After a training session, she complained to him about the design of the freestanding heavy bags; in order to remain upright, their bases were much larger than their tops. This made it impossible to get in close without jamming a toe or mildly compromising form, both of which she said were "illogical and unacceptable." That comment pushed it over the top; he really liked her. Still, they had never had a real conversation. There was very little time for socializing during class.

She kept turning her head to look at him as he worked on the laptop; he couldn't imagine what...