fandomhigh | How to Totally Be a Spy, For Real (We Mean It) [Friday, Period 1]

Class today was not in the Danger Shop. Class was in a classroom that had sort of been set up to look like a bar. “Sort of” because Pam and Cheryl were the grand high queens of half-assing, you guys. So … like a bar, but like the person setting up the bar got bored halfway into it and decided to start drinking instead.

Oh, right. Pam and Cheryl were both piss-ass drunk.

“Wellllcome to class,” Pam managed, from behind her thermos of Green Russian. “Bein’ a spy is super-hard, y’guys. You’ve gotta know how to sex people and get information an’ you gotta drink a lot.”

Hypothetically speaking, of course.

"'Cause your job?" Cheryl slurred, waving a martini glass at them. "Is like, sooooooo hard, or whatever, so you're gonna always wanna get drunk. But!" She waved a finger. "You're gonna want to get drunk in a sophisticated way. 'Cause you're a spyyyyy."

This class was going to betray a lot of the envy Cheryl had towards the field agents, yes.

“You can’ just … can’ just …” Hang on. Pam was getting lost in thought. Maybe another swig would help her remember? Mmm, Green Russians. “Oh! Right. You can’ just … walk into a bar an’ order anything. Like a light beer? As a spy? You’re gonna look like such a freakin’ tool. Jimmy Bund never ordered a light beer. ‘Cause he was a spy and spies don’t drink light beer.”

QED, guys.

"And unless you've got a UTI, no vodka cranberries!" Cheryl insisted. "Don't be a fucking lightweight, guys. You're a spy. You gotta drink like a man. Or a heavily-armed lady. With boobs. Or not with boobs."

She was being helpfully specific there.

"Anywayses, you should get a signature drink. Something sexy, with a fun name. Pam's got one!" Cheryl actually pointed helpfully to Pam, as though the kids didn't know who that was.

“Green Russian!!” Pam crowed triumphantly. “S’absinthe and milk. It packs a punch like a mule. And it looks like antifreeze so it freaks people out.”

Win/win.

“Carol, what’s your -- is sniffing glue a sign-- signytoor drink?” Pam asked. “That’s not really a drink so it shouldn’t count.”

"I ground up ecstasy tablets and dropped 'em in Mountain Dew-flavored vodka," Cheryl said happily. "I call it the Thunder Tunt."

Only because it sounded super-dirty, yep.

"But you guys aren't that creative so you don't have to make your own right away. You can just practice mixing existing drinks, first. Oh! Oh." She pointed an accusing finger at the class. "Don't any of you try to do any of that 'shaken-not-stirred' shit. Make your drinks how they're supposed to be made. Don't beat up your booze unless you know what you're d-doin'."

The more you know, kids.

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"But where are you going to get your entertainment?" Joker asked him. Besides, they're an object lesson on What Not To Do."

"There's a whole internet full of pornography, isn't there?" Anders asked. (He'd picked this fact up somehow over the last four months, possibly just by being a 16-year-old-boy.) "I've no idea how to get at it. I'll use this time to figure it out."

Joker shrugged. "Hey, if you want porn, I've got most of it downloaded already. What are your kinks? What format do you want it in?"

"... the type with naked people?" No, Anders didn't know what 'format' meant in this context, and wasn't too clear on 'kinks' either.

"You're... a little fuzzy on this whole concept, aren't you?" Joker asked. "Okay, let's start with this: do you have an electronic device to use? Or... Hang on, you were only joking, weren't you? Here I am, offering to hook you up with delights beyond your imagining, and you might not even want them."

"No, I want them," Anders said, a little too fast and a little too loud. (Delights beyond his imagining sounded pretty good.) He lowered his voice and turned away from the teachers, such as they were. "That is, I was joking, but now you've gotten me curious."

Joker grinned. "Okay, then. Curious is good. So... do you have a computer, or a phone, or a music player, or... something? Let me tell you, you're not going to want to be on a public computer for this. I can print you out some individual photographs, if you want, but that's really only the tip of the iceberg."

Anders shook his head, ears going pink. "I've used the public ones once or twice but that's it. I've been wanting my own phone, but..."

He shrugged. It cost money, and he didn't know where to start.

"Well, I'll tell you what," Joker offered. "I'll send a few short videos to your email account -- you know the school gave you one of those, right? -- and that can be an incentive for you to get your own phone."

He raised an eyebrow. "So... picture something, anything, that turns you on. How many people? What genders? What do they look like? What are they doing to each other, or themselves? Trust me, anything you can imagine, there's a video of it somewhere. Tell me what it is you'd like."

"I know I have email," Anders muttered. After the TV Tropes adventure, he'd hung around the school computer lab until he had the very basics down. "I just -- send me something you like. Boys or girls. Something where the people in it all seem happy."

Being more specific would be humiliating.

"How do I pick out a device to buy, if I even want to?"

"Girls or boys," Joker repeated. "No BDSM, none where they're faking enjoying it... see, these are important things to know." He turned on his omnitool, about to pick a few and send them, but then he remembered how badly that had turned out with Eleanor, and decided to get back to his room and watch them first. "I'll pick you out some good ones." He gave Anders a grin.
\
"How do you pick a device? I'm guessing research isn't going to help much, because you don't know what the numbers mean. So let's do it this way: Look for the one that's the hot new thing right now -- the one all the ads are hocking, the one the salespeople want you to buy. And realize that you don't want to pay that much for a phone. Then, using that as a baseline, decide how much you're willing to spend, and look for the one under that price which has the highest values on all the numbers they list."

"So it's like buying armor," Anders remarked, picking the important bit out of what Joker had said. "You probably can't afford the thing with the highest ranking, so you look for the best you can afford."

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Thanks. I'll let you know how it goes." A beat. "I'll spare you the details."

How to Totally Be a Spy, For Real (We Mean It) [Friday, Period 1]

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