Ivy waited for Rachel to finish.

'Remember, we are going for the sexy, quiet feel. Don't overdo it. Keep it mysterious. And for the love of god, don't frown so much.'

Was she frowning? Ivy shifted her neutral expression into a fake smile, then stopped. No, that didn't feel quite right. Not too much emphasis. She straightened her spine dramatically, then backed off a bit. Her shoulders were held back, accentuating her less than voluptuous chest. Better than nothing. You'll be fine, Ivy, just get out of your head.

'And Ivy? Don't ask to eat anyone alright?'

Ivy blinked. Wait, what? Rachel was grinning at her mischievously. She let her eyes drift over her shoulder. Phew, nobody listening in. When she returned her focus forward and back to Rachel, she was still smiling. Ivy knew that this was as much a test for Rachel's ability to primp and prime a naive woman as it was her own first real attempt at flirting. Most of her advice had been helpful, but Ivy felt reluctant to use all of it. Rachel assured her that after she had successfully hooked a suitor, she could resume being her natural brooding self. Slowly, baby steps.

Ivy wasn't so sure. What if he picked up on her act? That would end in a disaster, and she had no intent of spending the night tossing as she relived humiliation at the hands of a stranger. And even worse, what if she was successful? Once he found out who she really was, what she really wanted, would the spark be gone? Was the real Ivy enough, or was she just a creepy stalker giantess-wannabe, emptied of realistic desirability. It was hard not to dwell on the thought. But it still haunted her. Was she all that different than some online stalker come alive?

Remembering the photo, Ivy tried to picture each of the members' faces. There was the handsome latin man, Ricardo. He was eye-catching, but Ivy suspected he was far out of her league. Besides, she wasn't sure that someone smart and gorgeous was a well-suited first target. Target? She had to stop thinking like that. She was trying to flirt. She wasn't smashing into bowling pins, she wasn't selecting appetizers off a menu. Rachel's explanations had almost made men seem that simple. Choose one, know a few likely strategies and wait for them to hint at their unique desires in a woman. Despite Rachel's mentoring, Ivy still felt dumbfound at the subtle varieties of men that her friend knew so thoroughly. It was as if the girl could just reach out towards the buffet of male specimens and take her pick, gnaw until she was content, and then choose again. She envied that confidence, but now was not the time to fantasize. Stay in the moment, she mused, fixing her posture once more, and stop slouching.

There was the female member, Jane. Plain Jane, Ivy joked, even though the woman was far above average insofar as appearances were concerned. Still, the woman from the photo, with her long blonde locks draped over pristine white lab apparel, was the least of her worries. Standing next to her was Derek. He was baby-faced, and had dimples that brightened his smile, as if everything was far more exciting that it truly was. And after that, was Zeke. Deep brown hair draped his face to either side. It was long in the back as well, held together in a tight bundle with a wooden band, just visible over the corner of his ears. He was well-kept, and held a closed lip smile. He almost appeared thoughtful, and Rachel had pointed him out as an ideal first pick. Ivy liked him already. Something about his blue eyes, contrasting sharply against his hair, and that look... he just seemed so enchanting. Rachel had scoffed at her description, instead claiming he just looked desperate, but Ivy hoped, no, she knew there was more.

Which of course left Brandon. He formed the right wall of the photograph. Tall, dark, and not the least bit handsome. Ivy and Rachel had both laughed at his shaggy appearance, complete with pimples to mark a sincere lack of hygiene. Stay clear Ivy, Rachel had warned, you can do so much better. Well, at least Rachel had some confidence in her. If only she could find it herself, this would be so much easier. Rachel had looked off to the side now, away from their perch near the front entrance. Ivy followed, and watched as Sam spun dozily, and began strutting towards a booth, a ways down the row of enthused demonstrators. Where was she off to? That girl was a whirlwind wrapped in the package of a busty blonde, not in the destructive sense, moreso in her wandering unpredictable focus. Ivy loved that she could remain so vibrant, turning any situation into a carnival. A grown up who never lost that childlike fascination with the world.

'C'mon Ivy, we'd need to go catch Sam. She's probably gone all ADD on us again. Remember, when we do find your friends, Sam and I are with you. That's what wing-women do. We got your back, k?'

Rachel seemed so damn assured. It was relieving to know that she was not a competitor. Faced against such an opponent, Ivy didn't like her chances. So instead, she counted her blessings, and struggled to keep down the fading nugget of confidence that she had been gifted. And so she hurried along beside Rachel, now clutching her arm and dragging her through the throng. Ivy had lost sight of Sam, but the fair wasn't so large that one could stay hidden for long. Especially with the way that girl drew attention to herself. They rounded the first corner, and Rachel began searching left and right. Ivy withdrew her arm from Rachel's grasp, taking a chance to examine a nearby stand. She wasn't in a rush, in fact, rushing just made her feel nervous. If taking a chance to explore meant a chance to calm down, she would take it.

'Rachel, give me a few minutes okay? I'm just going to look around quickly. I think it will give me a chance to settle. I'm nervous,' said Ivy.

'Alright, fine, but I'm going to try and catch up with Sam. I'm afraid if I don't keep tabs on her, she's liable to disappear altogether. Some wing-woman...'

Ivy watched as Rachel continued wandering on. She was bobbing up on heels in half-jumps as she craned to look for Sam. After bumping into a short red-head, Rachel passed the row of stalls, and moved around a nearby corner. Ivy sighed. Finally a moment to actually think. All the training of a week wasn't nearly enough to teach her what to say, how to introduce herself, how to actually bond with a man. Still, if it was going to be worth anything, she desperately needed to relax her mind and stay calm. So she turned to the nearest booth, itching for any focus to distract her somersaulting stomach. A woman with a badge labeled Annie was demonstrating a small robotic beetle. Ivy leaned in closer to listen, burying herself among four, packed shoulder to shoulder.

'Now this little guy has a mounted camera along both the front and rear horns, allowing full navigation and recording. It is also equipped with multiple pheromone packets, designed for remote use that allow it to remain accepted or even to woo nearby critters. We hope to use Betty to follow migratory and building patterns of any number of rare beetle species, in order to characterize and better understand their societies.'

Ivy hated bugs, but she nodded politely all the same. Somehow she always imagined them finding their way into her bathroom while she was on the toilet, forcing her into a stalemate and preventing her from escaping. Even as a child, she once had to call her mother in to save her from a spider. Her mother had told her it wasn't poisonous, that she was a thousand times bigger, and to just squish it. Ivy didn't care, better to let the bug win than to actually touch their creepy, hairy, bug-eyed, shifty bodies. Ugh. A bug robot was better, at least she knew it was metal, but she had no intention to see the video feed of the critter paraded along by a thousand tiny real insects in a mad rush to the nearest burrow. She shuddered. A hip collided with her back, pressing her closer in to the booth. Ivy spun to find her assailant.

'Hey, watch it!' Ivy snapped. Some jackass was running down the lane, pushing people to either side as he sped through the crowds. She wasn't his only victim, and he never stopped to apologize, even as he completely flattened a short woman in a pink blouse. Ivy had ejected herself from the group by the booth and stood in the center of the aisle, watching after the jerk with an intense glare. She was tempted to try cutting him off at the entrance and tripping him. She was short enough that a firmly planted leg would easily send him face-planted into the tiled floor. Would serve him right, she mused, feeling the devilish grin that began to set. From behind, she heard someone else clamoring back to their feet, likely yet another victim of the inconsiderate twat.

'Some guys, jeez. He hit you too hey?'

It was a man's voice, directly behind her.

'Yea, I don't care where he needed to be, that's no excuse for knocking people down. I just wish I could have seen him coming, maybe stuck out my foot...'

Ivy turned as she spoke, finally facing towards the voice. Her monologue halted mid-sentence. She recognized his face. Only, it was about ten minutes too soon. Zeke was smiling, long bangs that parted around his face in the photograph were displaced, now draped over one eye. They left his lips revealed, a single blue iris catching her own in the light saturated hall. Damnit Ivy, now is not the time to admire, just take a deep breath and stay calm. He's just being friendly. Be friendly.

'Are you alright? You seem a bit startled. If you need it, I can take you over to the campus nurse's station?'

Ivy took a slow, purposeful breath. Zeke was watching her, lips pursed in a concerned expression.

'No, I'm fine. Really, I am. Thanks, though. You know, you look really familiar.'

Nicely played Ivy. Short and snappy, keep him talking.

'Me? Hah, well I'm not exactly having the best hair day, and I know I'm a bit dozy but I honestly don't remember meeting you before.'

Was he rambling? Wait, was he nervous too? Rachel had never told her what to do if he got nervous! Did she tease, did she mock, did she act shy or did she feign confidence?

'Oh, umm... well, it was in a photograph. You are one of the team members designing that special material... the one for the capsule that you swallow, right?'

'Yea, yea. That's us. Wow, you must have a wicked memory. Half my friends still haven't seen that photo. I'm, ahh, just browsing, you know. No need to stay at our booth all day. Besides, Ricardo and Derek are there still and...'

'You're Zeke right?'

'Yea. Yea, that's me. Umm, it's nice to meet you... uh?'

'Ivy. It's nice to meet you Zeke. Listen, I'm actually really curious to see your designs. Think you could be a gentleman and show me?'

Ivy wanted to laugh. He had to be twice as scared of mixed gender interactions as she was. Zeke had a puzzled look on his face, and Ivy thought it made him look even cuter. Like a mouse, cornered by a cat, being asked to lead the way home. Had the tables really turned so quickly?

'Yea, sure... Ivy. I'd like to. I mean, that'd be great.'

Zeke had begun to turn, going back the direction from which she entered the row. Ivy pursued, staying within his wake as he guided. He was standing straighter now, broadening his shoulders in a macho-pose that forced others to drift aside his bow. So far so good, Ivy. Their interaction felt similar to meeting a young lion cub at the zoo. It's more afraid of you than you are of it, the zookeeper had said, even as Ivy had reached out to pet its short stubbled mane. But Zeke wasn't a predatory savanna cat, he was a handsome boy with brilliant blue eyes. And apparently, he liked confident women. Could she do confidence? Deep down, she wished he preferred a shy and withdrawn type, it felt much more natural. Too late, she decided, poking her head out from behind his torso to see where she was being led. From her vantage, she spotted their destination, a stand manned by two faces she recognized, Derek and Ricardo. But Ricardo was speaking with... Sam? And he was posed like a fencer, hand held out the side, palm up and fingers opened. She could hear Sam laughing, damn she was loud. Ivy swore Sam was bouncing, literally bouncing, as she relaxed her head to the side and stepped around the front bench, placing her hand directly onto his. Even as she approached, hidden behind Zeke as he parted the sea and steered them forth, Ivy couldn't help but sigh.

Rachel was gone, Sam was falling for a Latin hunk, and Zeke had snuck up on her halfway across the fair. At least things were moving forward... so much for her 'wing-women'.

The best laid plans of giantesses and mice-men, why did they so swiftly go awry?