Already it begins.
White Wars fanfiction. Starring Chelsea MacDonald, Alex Grey, and everyone's favorite Stephen Fincke. Good God, someone stop me.


“The betting pool was supposed to be a secret.” Chelsea MacDonald heaved a huge sigh.
“It’s not?” Alex Grey, her partner, looked up from his unidentifiable slop to cock his head quizzically at her. “I mean, apart from everyone knowing about it.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t be a smartass, Alex. It was supposed to be secret from her.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”
“’Fraid so.”
Chelsea and Alex hadn’t quite gotten to the level of unspoken communication their leaders shared (it was said that Harry Dresden and Karrin Murphy could have a rousing fight, make up and come to an agreement in under three seconds, and all without a word being spoken), but they could still say quite a bit with speaking looks and well-chosen words. Enough so that the third person at the table was having quite a bit of trouble understanding what he eavesdropped on.
Stephen Fincke gave up trying to translate and instead shoved his tray closer. “Clarify, please,” he said.
Alex grinned at him. “You’re supposed to be the most subtle tactician in the Arx, and yet you can’t come up with a better way into the conversation than that?”
“Time is limited,” Stephen said, with dignity, “and if the she you’re referring to is who I think it is, I want to know this about now.”
Alex nodded, and deferred to Chelsea with a wave of his hand. “This was your idea, Chels. You explain.”
She sighed. “Okay, so you know I started a betting pool back when Dresden ended up partnered with Karrin.”
“Yes,” Stephen said. “And I never figured out how you kept that away from them.”
Chelsea winced. “I didn’t do as good a job as I thought I did,” she mumbled, and shoved her lunch around with a fork. “She’s not mad, though. I guess I should be grateful for that.”
There was a brief pause, then Alex leaned forward. “MacDonald. Spill. Now.”
She glared at him, expanded the glare to include Stephen’s brief coughing fit, and said, “I was talking to Marcie about her bets, and Karrin walks in. She asks me if I’m still the Arx bookie, and what was I supposed to say to that?”
“Pure foolishness, of course,” Stephen interjected, “when everyone knows it’s Alex with the head for money.”
She flipped him off and continued. “So I said yeah, because I didn’t want Alex in trouble. I was fairly sure she was going to chew me out—Marcie must have been, too, because she was gone, let me tell you, looked like she had a Flamer on her ass—but no, she just smiles at me, and says, ‘Okay, good, I want to place a bet.’”
Stephen closed his eyes in a sympathetic shudder. “Oh, that does not sound good.”
“You have no idea.” Chelsea gave up on her lunch and shoved it away. “I say okay, and get out the book, and ask her which pool she wants to throw in with. Of course, she says...”
“...the when-are-they-going-to-do-it pool,” Alex finished. “And?”
Chelsea winced again at the memory. “She put five hundred on last night.”
There was another brief pause.
A moment later, Alex looked at Stephen with newfound respect. “Wow, man, that’s an impressive command of profanity you have there.”
“You’d swear too,” Stephen replied tartly, “if you’d just lost nearly a thousand. Christ alive!”
Chelsea giggled, somewhat nervously. “And to think I have nearly a hundred more people to tell about this. Ah well. At least the deathpool is still open.”
Alex looked at Stephen, then back at his partner. “I’m going to have to put three hundred on you, Chels,” he said, almost apologetically. “Sorry, but the odds of your survival just aren’t looking very good.”
“I’d bet on myself if I thought it’d do me any good,” she agreed, gloomily. “All right, gentlemen, place your bets.”


Credits: I stole borrowed a line from GG Crono. Stephen Fincke belongs to me and GG Crono, since I don't quite remember who came up with him in the first place (I remember I named him, but I don't know who did the actual personality, so...). Chelsea and Alex belong to me. Everyone else lives in Jim Butcher's mind, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to play in his sandbox for a bit.