The problem with being nervous was this: as if it didn't already make her awkward enough, her unfamiliarity with the feeling of anxiety made her even more anxious, and thus more awkward. All in all, she was a restless mess whose annoyance at herself was the only thing keeping her features drawn tight and betraying only a tiny, tiny hint of the tension simmering beneath her façade.

She tried to take a deep breath. But she realised that that might be taken as a sign of agitation, and so her breath caught in her chest. She waited. Then she hiccupped. Someone in the crowd around her blessed her, thinking she had coughed.

Aki then continued to simply stand there, not responding, occupied by herself. She was standing on the curb, and this light was taking its sweet time changing, and so quite a number of people had gathered. Someone muttered and asked if the damned thing was working. Aki heard him, somehow, and thought no, it is not, it needs to be fixed. Maybe she said it out loud, too, for it seemed like everyone was paying attention to her even if no-one was looking at her. Something about being sandwiched between six impatient people made her claustrophobic.

Finally, the light changed, and she breathed out because she then had a cover and an excuse. One foot, then the other, and she was moving with the crowd across the street. Buoyed by the moving mass, her focus began to invert inwards. This isn't any good, this is a stupid idea, why did I arrange this.

She hiccuped and frowned, but continued walking. Eventually, she made it to the Duelist's Coffee. The assigned meeting place. For a moment she grimaced at her hiccups that were no longer coming. Before she admitted that she no longer had anything to be miffed at, she looked up and allowed her eyes to scan the outside tables.

There was no need to will herself to look hard because that hair was so tell-tale, so salient. As she made her way over—reluctant, thinking to herself that this was not a good idea, what was I thinking—to the table Yuusei was occupying, she was careful to weave herself between the twisted labyrinth of tables and chairs. She managed to bump into no-one.

Yuusei welcomed her with a mild smile.

She tried to smile back, but tension pinched her muscles taut. Her greeting was barely above a mumble.

"It's good to see you too, Aki."

She nodded; so that was what she had said. Seated, she brought herself to look up and attempt to smile again. No dice, but she noted that he looked quite pleasant today, his eyes clear, shining their bright, precious purple. Her eyes were fitful, compared to his."Mmm. Thanks for coming out today, Yuusei."

"Of course. Would you like something to drink?"

Aki tilted her head--"Sure"--because she had expected him to get right down to business. Perhaps he had sensed her nerves and so tried to give her a chance to settle herself. Or maybe he was trying to be a bit roundabout. In any case, it just gave herself something else to be tense about while Yuusei got up and went inside. And wasn't Yuusei on a budget—wasn't this a splurge for him? She drummed her fingers, too occupied mentally to be waiting.

By the time he was back, she was no closer to figuring it out, just a little more stressed than she had been a few minutes ago. But she had called him here—asked him if he could perhaps fix this thing for her—and it had been her idea. It was her fault, and so she was mostly upset with herself. Mostly.

Some time passed; Aki's drink coolled, she sipped tentatively at it. She tried to think of nothing, but there was nothing but apprehension. The lump in her breast pocket felt heavy against her heart.

"So," Yuusei began after a while, "may I see it?" He held out his hand across the table, brown gloves covering his slim, outstretched fingers.

Aki nodded. "Yes," she said, fishing out the lump in her blazer. It was now heavy in her fist. "Here." She handed it over without looking at it. Though, when it was in his hands, her eyes followed it as though compelled by a magnetic force.

Yuusei opened his palm, exposing the locket to the afternoon sunlight. It gleamed as he snapped it open and Aki looked away.

"What's wrong with it?"

She shifted a bit. "The music won't play anymore." The happy people in the picture smiled up at the sun.

"Oh. It used to play, didn't it? That shouldn't be hard to fix." He flipped the locket closed and began to examine it. "Yes, not at all. The music box should be here, not at all hard to get to."

Aki thought that he was about to produce a screwdriver on the spot and repair it, but instead he pocketed it and looked at her. "I'll take it back to the shop. It should be done by tonight. If you want to pick it up."

"You don't have to work on it so soon, Yuusei. Take your time, I know that you're busy with your own things. Preparations." She took another sip from her cup and tried to smile once more. Instead, with a mix of emotions, she realised that Yuusei had already learned the drink she liked to drink.

"It'll only take half an hour, at most. Ten minutes if I can figure out how the gears were assembled."

"That's good," she said, and stiffened, then released like a balloon allowed to expel air, relieve pressure. Eyes widened by realisation—that this was hardly even an act of charity--were relaxed. The rigidness of her body melted away and her spine wilted inwards.

"It's not hard."

Aki nodded in a way that said apparently. "Mmm." As she took another sip of her tea—pleasantly warm now—she looked intently at him. "That's good, anyway. I'm sure that Misty will appreciate it."

He waved his hand, smiled as he dismissed the tempered gratitude. "It isn't a big thing."

Apparently not, Aki thought, taking a long drink, when you can fix anything. Her thoughts were of the world, the city, Satellite, people—herself.

"Thank you, Yuusei."

They sat in silence a bit longer. Finally, Aki asked how things were going.

They were going well, thank you.