Beginnings of multidirectional stealth war

She had to admit it was by far the most unusual conversation situation they'd ever been in. And the fact that its beginnings went so far back in time was in itself very funny.

The timeline was:
> 1 year and two months ago - She had mischievously suggested to both him and a mutual friend that they all get together on a gift for Blue-eyes and send it to her anonymously via the internal post system at her workplace, just for shits and giggles.
For lack of response, she ended up doing this herself (with a slightly smaller gift), and Blue-eyes had been convinced that someone at work was doing the secret admirer-thing. The coup was successful and thus very funny.

1 year ago - She decided to repeat the success, and thus enlisted the aid one of his colleagues to sneak an anonymous birthday gift to him via his company's internal post system. The coup was successful and thus very funny. Mostly because he baked cookies for his whole department to thank the anonymous donor, before realizing it wasn't one of them whodunit.

10 months ago - he had finally put two and two together and asked if she had done it, to which she readily admitted. (Sporting code).

2 weeks ago - she had celebrated her birthday, and once the last guests had left in the wee hours of morning, she discovered a letter in the bathroom shelf. Bearing a very cryptic message in unidentifiable writing, signed with a girl's name: "Hi, can I move in?". Asking the whole world in the Facebook status bar who Tova was gave no results, other than a well-meaning friend's etymological definition of the name. She was completely mystified. And completely convinced that someone had planted a pet spider named Tova somewhere in her flat.

1 week ago - she had been to Blue-eye's place for dinner and recounted the tale of the mysterious bathroom letter. Blue-eyes had surprisingly said that she knew who it was, and in the same breath spoken the name of the culprit. The air went out of her - HIM? (Editor's note: this ain't like him). In the same instant, the wonder of the coup (which until then had been successful, and thus very funny) was replaced with a new feeling: Blue-eyes had broken the sporting code. This wasn't cricket.
The same evening, Blue-eyes had introduced her to an experiment by asking her to write the letter Q on her forehead. She did, and was informed that since she had written it so that Blue-eyes could read it, she therefore fell into a category of people who are great social adaptors, i.e. were able to consciously adapt their behaviour to other people, were also more succesful liars and manipulators (all according to a book Blue-eyes was reading, called "Quirkology - The curious science of everyday lives"). It transpired that Blue-eyes was the other kind. She drew the Q so that it was in her own reading direction, meaning that she was more prone to 'being herself' in social situations, and not so prone to manipulation or adaptation. Hm.

1 day ago - The conversation. More or less.

Her: (with covert, sly intentions) Oh hey, I don't think I told you about the weirdest thing that happened after my party... [tells the story of finding the letter]... and you know, I wasn't all that sober, so my first reaction was to think, 'Oh shit. Someone's planted a SPIDER somewhere'.

Him: (laughing) That's completely weird... Sounds like something you would do.

Her: (pausing for thought) Ah... must have been me, then. No, seriously, I had No Idea who could have done it.

Him: You didn't recognize the handwriting?

Her: (earnestly) No, didn't have a clue.

(pause, wherein he lets it slip, very discreetly)

Her: I know. Blue-eyes tipped your cover last week.

Him: (...) WHAT?

Her: And honestly, I was kind of disappointed that she didn't keep it under wraps. That's... that's just not OK. It was... Disloyal.

The rest of the conversation centered around revenge for the upended Tova project. They were very close to where Blue-eyes lived, and decided to (anonymously) build a snowman outside Blue-eye's apartment door, ring the doorbell and run off. Unfortunately, the snow was unpackable because it was too cold, and Blue-eyes wasn't home anyway. They decided to save their revenge for another day with better prerequisites and a more dependable props. On the way home, they brainstormed about the perfect anonymous revenge. Her favourite idea was driving a tram through Blue-eyes' living room when she wasn't home, and leaving her cat posed at the steering wheel.

Yesterday bedtime - Via text.

Her: 'OK - I am still really curious about who Tova is. But you'll never hear me say it out loud.'

Him: 'And you're going to have to wait a lot longer to find out. Now that you know it's me, it takes on a whole new dimension.'

Her: (a sneaky plan forming in her head) 'Until that day - count on retaliation.'