“Do you need to get that?” I asked.
“It’s Dustin. I’ll talk to him once we finalize this conversation. Whatever we decide, he’ll make it happen. You tell me how much you want him to know about you, Fallyn, and whatever he does, it helps all of us, not just Link and I.”
Wow. I actually did have a marketing team behind me. Weird thing to focus on, but I’d take anything to be grateful for that I could just now. We could not only deny this, but I wouldn’t be crushed by the wheels of the AcesPlayed bus in the process.
It wouldn’t make a big difference in the overall scheme of things, but a little protection was better than none. I didn’t want this to be me versus them. I had nothing but respect for AcesPlayed as a company, and when it came to Link and Elliot specifically—
“So we’re going to deny everything,” Elliot said. “We all agree.”
“Yes.” That was harder to say than I wanted it to be.
Link shook his head. Stubborn, lovable jerk. “When the actual truth comes out, that will make things worse.”
“Who knows our screen names?” Elliot asked.
“Yours and mine? Everyone in the office.” As Link replied, he ticked off on his fingers. “Fallyn. Anyone who plays with people in the office—Reese, Megan, Quentin...”
Elliot winced, presumably at an already long list. “Who knows Fallyn is Kittie?”
This was such a mess.
“You. Me. Nigel. But none of us did this.” The conviction in Link’s voice was sweet.
But obviouslysomeonedid it.
“And it’s unlikely any of them will contradict us when we say whatever this looks like, it isn’t.” Elliot pinched the bridge of his nose. “But if they mentioned to anyone, random person in passing, who Kittie was, or Puff, or Archer…”
“We didn’t do anything wrong.” I wished that mattered. To a lot of people, we’d done everything wrong. It wasn’t just that Link and Elliot worked for AcesPlayed and I dissected their games. Some of the roleplay we’d done in game, the conversations we’d had, wasn’t just sexy, it was graphic, it had all sorts of kinks people were going to be offended by from pain to degradation and so much more.
People were going to dogpile on Elliot and Link. They were sexist game developers. They were misogynistic. I could already see the accusations in my mind. And if they’d said those things to a random person, yeah, I’d agree. But everything that happened between us was part of the conversation. Was consensual.
And I was going to be a slut. That would be the nicest thing people said about me.
Fuck.
“Do you trust me?” Elliot asked.
“Yes.” That wasn’t as terrifying to say as I’d expected, especially given I was about to put at least a portion of my career in his hands.
Elliot had his phone out. “Listen, but don’t speak. He doesn’t need to know you’re here.” He dialed.
“What is this?” The Dustin who answered sounded grumpy compared to the man I usually saw representing the company.
Elliot didn’t look concerned. Then again, Elliot didn’t look like he was feeling much of anything, and that was disconcerting. “Exactly what you think—chat logs from the game.”
“Who are you and Link talking to?” Dustin asked.
“Impossible to say at this time.” Elliot rattled off the response without hesitation.
Dustin let out a long, noise exhale. “Swell. How did it get out?”
“Impossible to say at this time.” When Elliot kept things close to the chest, he really buttoned up. “Players should be assured that no one else’s data is at risk, and we’re taking all measures possible to ensure that the person responsible for this is confronted and that this situation is dealt with swiftly and without prejudice.”
Like he was reading from a freaking cue-card. Both amazing and scary.
“Great.” Dustin sounded as though it was anything but. “Do we have anything to say about Fallyn, besidesimpossible to say at this time?”
In any other situation, I would’ve laughed at his off-the-cuff Elliot impersonation.