The Third Time

Prologue: The Third Time [Jess]

The dark enveloped around us like an endless blanket -- a stark change after the gleaming London skyline -- but there was something about it that made me feel almost warm. I knew, at that moment, that Nancy was not wrong: there was a certain charm about this place she'd dragged us to.

'Dans Le Noir ?' was definitely not the restaurant I'd have chosen if I was the one organising a meetup of a specific group of internet friends who had never met in person before, but her reasoning must have made sense to the twenty-odd fans of Game of Thrones' Stannis Baratheon she had found lurking in the corners of Facebook, so that had been it. Except, of course, she had not been confident to come on her own, so Sally and I had been forced to tag along.

"This is crazy," the little devil herself squealed. I could not see Nancy in all the darkness, obviously, but I could tell that there was only an air of pure ecstasy on her face. "Can you believe I'll be finally meeting all of them? This is crazy. I am not prepared for this. Wow, Jess, I am so not prepared for this."

I rolled my eyes but decided to humour her. She had humoured me numerous times before, after all, such as when I had been on my way back from the Comic-Con with the legendary Neil Gaiman's autograph in my own hands. It had been an incredible moment for me -- it was Neil Gaiman! Of course I had been excited! -- but once I had calmed down and accepted that I had genuinely shook hands with the God of Comic Books, Nancy had shown me a video of my reactions and I had realised how idiotic I looked. She had tempered my enthusiasm then, so it was pretty much understood that I had to temper hers now. It was why we were so good friends, really. Nancy and I understood each other like no one else could.

"I'm sure Team Stannis will love you, Nance," I assured her. "You can discuss all those Game of Thrones theories you've been rambling about for so long."

"Not Game of Thrones, Jess," Nancy snapped, though. Oops. "It's called A Song of Ice and Fire. That TV show is nothing but badly crafted fanfiction."

"Sorry," I said, apologising. "But you know what I mean. They'll love you as much in person as they do online."

Sally, our other best friend, patted Nancy's back, agreeing with me. Sal wasn't the most talkative of people -- she was the kind of girl who didn't speak unless spoken to -- but she was a secretary of her university's Katy Perry club and had been one for years, so certainly understood the excitement flowing through Nancy's veins.

The waiter leading us suddenly paused, nearly causing me to double over. "Mademoiselles, here we have the table reserved for Miss Wu and guests," he said.

Before either of us could say anything, though, we heard a vaguely masculine voice near us. "Wu? As in, Nancy Wu?"

My best friend bobbed her head so sharply that I think everyone in a ten-foot radius felt her. "Oh my god," she said. "I mean, yes. Yes, I'm Nancy Wu. Er."

"The night is dark and full of terrors, milady," the man replied, almost sagely. I didn't know exactly what that meant, as Game of Thrones had never really appealed to me much because of the blatant sexism on the writers' part, but I knew that it had something to do with it from the large poster that hung above Nancy's bed. I also knew that my best friend was, at this very moment, trying very hard to control her giggles. She loved being called 'milady'.

"Praise R'hllor, my lord," Nancy replied. "Er, sorry, who might I be...?"

"Rizzy," the stranger replied. "Richard Musquets on Facebook, if you will. The one with the --"

"The one with the unhealthy Carice Van Houten obsession! Of course. Nice to meet you, Rizzy!"

And just like that, the two of them were off. Sally and I just stood there for a few minutes with the waiter, hoping Nancy would finish soon. Once it seemed like she wouldn't be able to do so on her own, I cut in, "Er, Nance?"