My Bad Boy Werewolf Quadrillionaire Space Lord

Ooh, Shopping

Not for the first time when presenting a young woman good news, Luca wished his ears came with an 'off' switch. Isabella squealed so loudly she might qualify as a sonic weapon, and his lap was unable to contain the space pirate's enthusiasm.

That last part was a new experience for him.

Isabella slid off the chair and onto the sand, jumping about with glee. She spun around and clapped her hands, and asked, "Luca! Are we about to do our own version of 'Pretty Woman!'?"

"Uh, no. You're an emancipated and well-paid space pirate. You can buy your own dress," Luca said with the wag of his finger.

Isabella frowned at him. "Now honestly, how much would I need to spend to not be a social outcast at this gala?"

Luca smirked. "You're with me. The who's-who of the universe waits in line for my pool parties. You could be in a beach towel and still be the envy of high society."

"Let me try this again," Isabella sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "How much would I have to spend so that the socialists wouldn't say nasty things behind my back?"

"Don't you mean socialites?" Luca asked. "Most socialists would excommunicate you just for being associated with me. There's a communist group convinced my flesh would burn from touching a statue of Lenin."

"Okay, socialites. Now how much would I have to spend to avoid their ridicule?"

"Roughy the annual budget of an elementary school," Luca admitted. He paused for a minute, snapped his fingers, and added, "Right, sorry. You're poor."

"Compared to you, Batman is poor," Isabella retorted. "And being rich is Batman's superpower."

"True. Even I find my wealth absurd, and I earned it all," Luca conceded. He turned and thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers when inspiration arrived. "So our best bet is to visit Valerie. Her work is well regarded in the fashion snob world, and I pay her so much that she only has to work with people that she likes. Which is pretty much no-one. Frankly, I'm not even sure if she likes me, she keeps on complaining that I don't respect her work."

"Does she make your shirts?" Isabella asked. "It might help if you ever wore one."

Luca considered that statement for a moment. "Fair point. Anyway, let's go check on my parents and let Alcuard know that we'll be out for a while," he said, as he started to walk back up the hill.

Isabella pointed up at something. "And we can see who's visiting your parents in a military dropship."

Luca's eyes widened, and a cold rush of fear washed over him. Before he knew it, his hands grasped the portal controller in his pocket and pointed it at the ground in front of him. He hit the button, and a sphere of black nothingness, of folded space, winked into existence.

Luca marched through, Isabella close behind him, and he grit his teeth to be ready for a fight. Or worse.

Instead, his mother was sitting at the porch, talking happily with a familiar-looking man sitting next to her. His father was nearby, pacing irritably with a small stack of paper in his hands.

"Lanval Adams?" Isabella asked.

"Well, Mister Cardego," Lanval said, raising a small coffee cup in greeting. "And, was it Isabella? Lovely to see you both again."

"Lanval Adams. I wasn't expecting to find you here," Luca admitted, as he let the portal vanish behind him.

This particular portal chose to vanish with a defeating thunderclap of a sound that was still distinctly fart-like.