"Stop the fight!" I barked.
…Nothing.
Amanda blinked at me, then awkwardly pointed at a button on the console in front of us.
"You, uh, have to press this to speak," she tried her best to stifle a laugh.
I coughed, trying to play it off. The console had a label that read Push to Talk—in bold red letters, with an arrow.
Great. The whole dashboard was idiot-proof, so I couldn't even talk my way out of it.
Why couldn't I be one of those genius MCs who just knew everything, like magic?
No, this blunder actually checks out with my usual routine. My brain only runs at full capacity when I'm horny or trying to aura farm. The rest of the time? I'm operating at, what—twenty percent, tops.
To keep things from getting any more awkward, I just walked in myself—steps firm, chin up, the whole confident guy who totally knew what he was doing act. I even threw in the hand-in-pocket look for extra appeal.
