3) Human beings are considered neutral territory guided by their own agency and shall be turned neither for nor against either party. Any transgression of this clause will be considered “bitching” and will be dealt with accordingly.

4) Contemporaneous occupation of the same space is not permitted, with the following exceptions:

a) Environments in which basic human needs come first, including but not limited to locations listed in schedule A.

b) Group scenarios.

Should either named party come across the other, reasonable measures must be taken to avoid any and all contact—eye, verbal, and physical. Any transgression of this clause will be considered “engagement of the enemy” and will be dealt with accordingly.

5) Romantic alliances are not to be flaunted and are subject to Clause 2.

I hereby declare that I [insert name]

“You haven’t even filled in my name!” McGraw looked up in affront.

“Chill your bristles. It’s a boilerplate document that I’ve adapted.”

“You have boilerplate contracts for things like this?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” Susan crossed her arms and watched as McGraw flipped the page to read schedule A. “It’s a fair deal. Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“Romantic alliances . . .” There was the faintest air of interest. “Have you been making any of those, then?”

“None of your beeswax.”

But McGraw barely drew breath before countering, “Any undisclosed information pertaining to one of these clauses is very much my beeswax.”

“I have made alliances,” Susan muttered unwillingly. “None of them significant enough to affect our terms.” Then, after a brief pause, she ventured, “How about you?”

For the first time since he’d opened the door, McGraw edged a little closer, his hand reaching up to her face as if to brush her hair behind her ear, but even as Susan opened her mouth to invoke Clause 4, McGraw withdrew, holding up the pen he’d taken from behind her ear.

“May I borrow your pen?”

“How about next time you verbalize your intent before violating my person?” Susan narrowed her eyes, imagining how satisfying it would be to telekinetically prune that magnificent mustache by plucking it from his face, hair by manly hair.

McGraw rested the paper on the wall, added only Ed Gemmell’s name to his list of chosen confidants, and signed and dated both copies before returning them to Susan to sign.

“I’ve not made any romantic alliances, and I’ve no intention of doing so,” McGraw said quietly. “I’ve let that spoil things for me before.”

“Mm.” Susan folded one contract up and tucked it back into her pocket before giving McGraw the other. “You still have my pen.”

The pen changed hands in silence.

“OK. Well, then,” Susan said, “since we’re currently violating Clause 4, I think I should . . .”