Pope couldn’t believe he was sitting there, on the softest couch he'd ever felt, in a Kook’s house. A Kook! If any of the Pogues found out, he’d never hear the end of it. But, well, he needed the money, and tutoring seemed like a good idea... until he saw who he was tutoring.

“So... trigonometry,” he started, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He leaned a little closer over the fancy coffee table, pretending not to notice that the room's decor probably cost more than his entire house. “It's just... triangles and angles. Simple stuff.”

He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. Sure, simple. For someone whose brain wasn’t currently short-circuiting from being in what felt like a castle disguised as a house. Pope took a deep breath, forcing a smile. If he survived this, he’d at least have a story to tell the Pogues—or maybe he’d never mention it, to keep his dignity intact.