33. First Impressions

Goji watched passing streetlights shine in her glossed bulbs. Beside her, Marie sang softly along with a ballad on the radio. Marie, wearing her lovely native lime with a simple black blazer and jeans. She'd wasted no time telling Goji how well her gray sweater complemented her indigo, but Goji still felt underdressed. Her fingers kept searching her sleeves for fugitive lint. When she said she wanted to go somewhere Marie could be herself she didn't expect to be invited to a private party. She only accepted on Callie's urging, and after Kiyo made safe plans for Sera to come over discreetly. Ever since last time he'd wanted to draw her deeper into his video games.

"You're sure I'll be welcome here?" she asked Marie.

"I'm sure. People bring guests all the time. It's not for business or anything like that. Just a night of drinks and jams for anyone who wants to play. No paying audience or press allowed."

"I won't know what to say to anyone."

"Don't worry. Callie and I won't leave you to the sharks. Er. Not that anyone will be rude to you. Just an expression."

Goji's stomach churned unpleasantly as Marie took an uptown exit. They were soon driving through a stately neighborhood that looked like it had already gone to bed, though there were more people on the sidewalks nearer their destination. The historic Boatswain Hotel's lounge was host to a rare bit of camaraderie for Inkopolis' musical talents – and, apparently, their plus-ones. Goji wasn't looking forward to endlessly explaining who she was and how she knew Marie.

The street narrowed near the hotel. A smartly dressed valet stepped up to meet them at the curb. "Welcome, Miss Cuttlefish," he said with a toothy teenage smile. "Your sister is waiting inside."

Marie thanked him and joined Goji on the sidewalk.

"Not fancy, I said. Not stuffy," Goji muttered.

"It's a little fancy on the outside, but trust me: these mixers are just fun."

"We'll see, Miss Cuttlefish."

Marie groaned. "Please, no."

The outside of the hotel was all stone and brass. Goji glimpsed the lobby's polished wooden floor before Marie steered her away from the main doors to a path lined with grapevines. The bouncer – a suited Spider Crab – stepped aside and held the door for them.

"Marie, really? Private security?"

"I know, I know. Too much. Just stick with me and it'll be-"

"Heya!" Callie waved from the doorway of a plush, very green lounge. Beside her was a Betta girl with blood-orange fins and eyes. Goji thought she should know her but couldn't put a name to her face. "We got a table. Place was filling up. Oh, Goji, this is Shiro. Shiro, Goji."

"Hey, Goji. Can't believe Marie brought someone for a change. Maybe we'll even get a few words out of her tonight. Always so mopey." She pouted.

Marie wasn't amused, and Callie and Shiro laughed. "I'm messing with you, baby," Shiro said, brushing her long fingers over Marie's shoulder.

"Let's go in. I'm starving," Callie said, and led the way.

Marie and Goji followed Callie and Shiro to a booth near the back of the lounge. Goji could feel eyes on her as people looked their way to wave to Marie, but she didn't catch anyone staring like she feared. She recognized a few people at sight. Paruko, the Chirpy Chips' Anemone singer, was unmistakable in her iridescence. The three boys of Hightide Era – one of Kiyo's favorites – shared a table with friends near the small stage. Off to the side was Yoko, the famously polychromatic Inkling girl who played trumpet for Ink Theory. If she spoke to anyone here, Goji hoped it would be Yoko. Ink Theory's debut album released during Mom's long days of radio listening, and she'd taken a liking to them. With the influence of Marie's own taste for jazz, it gave Goji a new favorite genre. But, as usual, Yoko didn't look well, and she was talking closely with bandmate Kitamura. The tiny Urchin drummer was notoriously private. Goji could already imagine fumbling to explain what she was doing here in their midst.

She slid into the half-circle booth beside Callie, who was already chattering with Shiro, and focused on her menu. All week she'd felt her appetite catching up from the long disinterest in food. Everything sounded enticing.

"You can't go wrong here," Marie said. "Get anything you want to try." She ordered a dim sum sampler and a bottle of wine for the table. Goji tried the oyster pie. Shiro passed, saying she'd be fine with the dim sum for the time being.

Goji took a chance on speaking first. "Shiro, I recognize you from somewhere. Are you in a band?"

"Nah, she's just my arm candy," Callie said, and Shiro batted her shining eyes.

"I'm doing some solo stuff now," she said. "But you probably know me from The Bottom Feeders. I play violin."

"That's it. My little brother has your albums."

"Yeah? Cool kid. You have any gigs?"

"Oh, no, I've never been musical. I'm a nurse."

"At the General?"

"No – the free clinic on 8th Street."

"Oh." Shiro blinked. "So, basically a homeless shelter?"

"Er, no. We let people stay in bad weather when there's nowhere else to go…"

"How did you ever meet Marie?"

"Restaurant," Marie lied. "She didn't know it was me at first, of course."

"Different color?"

"Different everything," Marie said.

"Stealth pickup," Shiro chuckled. "Bet that blew your mind, huh?"

"Y-yeah. Quite the shock." Goji wasn't sure she liked Shiro. It was hard to tell whether she was being mocked.

"She was fresh enough to keep around," Callie said with a wink.

"That's what my band says about me," Shiro said, and again Goji couldn't tell if it was a joke.

"Oh, shut up. You carry them and you know it," Callie said. She started talking to Shiro about plans for a broadcast, letting Goji off the hook for the time being. The dim sum platter arrived, and Shiro ate a few pieces without saying much, watching the time on her phone between bites. After a while she stood and smoothed her fins.

"Gotta warm up. See you kids after the set."

"Shred it, girl," Callie said.

"Hrmph. Yeah."

When she was gone, Callie asked, "What do you think of the party? It was my idea to invite you. I'll just take the credit now."

"It's… exclusive."

"Hell yeah, it is. Friends and fam only."

"She hates it," Marie said quietly. "No thanks to Shiro. Goji, we can go if you want."

"That would be really rude," Goji said. "And I don't hate it. I just thought it would be a little – I mean – I'm out of place. People are looking at me."

"If you don't want to stay, just say the word," Marie said.

"I'm fine." She chomped a dumpling for emphasis. "Are there lots of parties like this? You never mentioned them before."

"Not lots," Marie replied. "And they're not in the same place twice in a row. I don't come to most of them," she added contritely.

"You miss out," said Callie. "It's the best chance to go out with friends without someone shoving a camera in your face."

Goji wondered which of the people in the lounge might ever want to be her friend. Most tables looked like closed groups to her. Callie was an exception, catching eyes across the room and waving. Marie pointed out a few people Goji had never heard of and wouldn't remember, then asked if she wanted to say hello to Yoko and Kitamura.

"I don't want to butt in. Nobody looks like they want to meet fans."

"You're not just some fan. Here, I'll go with you," Marie offered.

"Nn… Maybe later."

"Okay," Marie relented. "I just want you to have a good time."

"I am. It's nice that both of you can be yourselves. And these are delicious." She took another dumpling. "It's been a while since food was good."

The Bottom Feeders took the stage with no introduction. The lounge quieted in seconds. Shiro was last to appear, electric violin in hand. The instrument matched her blood-orange hue. She nodded to the drummer and bassist who counted off the beat and launched into the first song. Goji found it too frenetic for her tastes, but Shiro was a spectacle. Her fingers flew over the frets and her bow was a blur. She played with her eyes closed. Goji thought about taking a video for Kiyo, but then she'd have to explain where she'd been, and why. Better to not open that door yet.

When the song ended, Callie cheered. Goji watched Shiro curiously, for while the singer and lead guitarist drank in the applause, Shiro kept her eyes on her violin, fiddling with the tuning pegs until the next song began.

The set lasted about twenty minutes. Halfway through, Callie got up to greet a friend who arrived late. Goji and Marie finished their appetizers, and Goji sent a quick text to Kiyo.

[Everything okay there?]

[Yep. Getting ready to play,] he replied.

Goji couldn't help but ask: [Curtains closed? Door locked?]

[YES.]

"Something wrong?" Marie asked.

"No. All good." Goji returned her phone to her pocket.

"Are you sure you're having a good time?"

"I'm sure. Don't worry." Goji tried to give her a reassuring smile. It was strange to be the one telling another to calm down.

"You're quiet."

"I'm listening. Kiyo likes them, but I never paid much attention."

"I'm sorry Shiro was prickly. I didn't know she'd be sitting with us."

"I think she was nervous. I'm just happy no one's calling you Miss Cuttlefish anymore."

"Me too." Marie had been ignoring Callie's attempts to get her attention across the lounge, but she finally excused herself with a groan. "She's over there with our old manager. I should say hello. I'll be right back, okay?"

Goji didn't object to a few minutes to collect herself. Despite Shiro's performance, she couldn't say she liked any the music. She felt guilty for being glad when the set was over.

The band members appeared one by one from backstage and headed to the bar. All except Shiro, who came instead back toward Goji's table. She kept her head down and answered praise with vague waves. She slid into the booth without a word and drained her water glass. When she set it down, her fingers were shaking. She spread them on the table to keep still.

Goji waited for her to speak, but she didn't. Shiro had no ink to show moods, but her fins twitched in agitation. Goji felt something familiar in her body language.

"Are you okay?"

"Yep," Shiro clipped. She picked up Callie's unattended glass and cursed to find it empty. Goji offered her own.

"Thanks." Shiro took a long gulp. "When I get like this, I could drink gallons."

"Anxiety?" Goji guessed. "Does it happen a lot?"

"Most live shows," Shiro sighed. "Keep waiting to outgrow it or something. The guys love giving me shit about stage fright. It's not fucking stage fright. I'm not a kid in a school play."

"I'm sorry. They're wrong to taunt you. My brother doesn't really understand what I go through, but he tries to be kind," Goji said. "Measured breathing helps me calm down."

Shiro studied her. "What sets you off?"

"Oh... Stress. Guilt. Nothing at all," Goji said with a shrug. "You hide it better than I do. And if it's worth anything, your playing was brilliant."

Shiro smiled slightly and looked up as Marie and Callie returned together. "Thanks."

They spent the evening eating and listening to performances at the open mic. Callie and Shiro were long into drinks and distracted each other with stories. Goji's meal was every bit as delicious as Marie promised. She even let herself be talked into more dessert than she had room for. Espresso-iced chocolate cake was her weakness, and hard to find. Between songs she checked for texts from Kiyo but resisted sending any more of her own.

"How do you feel?" Marie asked. "Want to stay and listen for a while, or ready to head home?"

"I'm okay." Goji paused at her own sincerity. "This is nice." She and Marie were sitting closer than before. Behind a sip of rich coffee, she realized that was nice too.


While Goji relished her dinner at the Boatswain's lounge, Kiyo dropped an armload of snacks on his bed.

"That should get us through the raid. Most of it, anyway."

"I still do not understand." Sera rooted through the feast of chips, pretzels, and cheese crackers. "We are raiding other players?"

"No. It's a mission in the game. The enemies aren't other players, but our teammates are. But in the main world, other players can be your enemies. Depends on what faction they play."

Sera shook her head. "I will just watch and learn."

"If you like it, you can make a character and play when you come over. It's free until you hit level 30." He settled his headset on his ears and extended a microphone from one side. "I'll turn the speakers on so you can hear too. The mic's strong enough to pick you up, so feel free to chime in."

"You are sure no one but your friends can hear us?"

"Totally sure. They can't wait to meet you."

Sera hoped they'd all be too distracted by the game to bombard her with questions about her life. She only agreed to this because it was easy to walk away from a virtual conversation if Kiyoza's teammates pried too much.

Kiyo opened a chat program and then the game. A splash screen of characters appeared. One side was Inklings in armor and mystic robes. Their enemies were beastly creatures of all sorts. Heroic music played in the background. Kiyo switched to the chat program and joined a voice call. They could suddenly hear other voices in mid conversation.

"Kiyo, that you?" asked one.

"Is the Octo with you? Can she hear?"

"Sera's here, yeah. She can hear you."

"Oh, fresh! Sera, I'm Yuma."

"Hello, Sera," said a calmer voice. "My name's Omin. Welcome to the raid."

"Good evening," Sera said slowly.

"She talked!" exclaimed the boy called Yuma. "We thought Kiyo was making you up."

"I am quite real."

"I love your voice. Kiyo, let her play. I want to hear her more."

"She doesn't know how," Kiyo said.

"I am happy to watch," Sera said quickly. "Help me understand this raid."

Kiyo and Omin did their best to explain how to play, but battles with enemies and strategy talk interrupted. Sera tried to follow the game, but she kept losing track of the boys' characters amid crowds on the screen. There was a grid of icons Kiyo explained were abilities and spells, and she focused on memorizing those instead. Eventually she learned to recognize Kiyo's heavily armored warrior by his role shielding the others from attacks. Omin gave perspicacious answers to her questions, and she tolerated Yuma's attempts at conversation. The night wore on. She munched through the cheese puffs, and the quest progressed until she lost the objective and her eyes grew heavy. Finally, she tucked a tentacle behind her head and slipped into low form to lie comfortably in her chair. The boys' voices and the clicks of Kiyo's keyboard were oddly soothing.

She was glad to be invited back.