My alarm goes off much too early. When I find the punk who thought it was a brilliant idea to start the working day at 9:00, I'm going to bite them.

Until that glorious day comes, though, I'm stuck hauling my bony arse out of bed at 8:30 to get dressed, By the time I get down the kitchen Zevran is already there, pre-empting my breakfast rush like he has done every morning since he recovered from that virus. Early as it is, it's made getting up every morning something to look forward to. Two cups of tea are steaming on the table, the toast rack is filled with toast; a large tub of strawberry yoghurt sits open with a dessert spoon sticking out of it. And, as the silent cajoling of ever-increasing amounts of food into me continues, a banana sits in the middle of my plate. Not on the side like it was yesterday, but smack dab in the middle. Honestly, the only thing he hasn't done to draw the eye to it yet is to doodle arrows on the tablecloth.

I wave a finger at the banana by way of a good morning. "You're getting bolder with this fruit business, Mister Man," I say to him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to tell me something."

Zevran returns from the cutlery drawer with a spoon for the marmalade and raises an eyebrow at me. He puts both hands flat on the table and arches forward until his hips are nearly touching the edge of the surface.

"Oh?" He grins broadly. "And what would I be trying to tell you with a banana, my lovely doctor, hmm?"

I squint at the banana, and then up at him. He's biting his lip and looking like the most determined bloody lothario that God ever blew breath into. "Actually, you know what? Never mind."

Zevran gives a triumphant little chortle as he sits down with me, and puts a piece of toast on my plate. In no position to argue, I sigh like the poor, henpecked bastard that I am and reach for the marmalade.

"So how's the phone hunt going, then, Zeva-Deva-Ding-Dong?"

Zevran snorts. "And you want to talk about my creativeness. Mercy me…"

I wave my hand and devour my toast. "God, you're a bugger. Listen: phone. Have you found anything you like the look of yet, or are you still in a staring competition with the price tags?"

"My goodness, Van!" His eyes widen with enough melodrama to shame a hypnotist. "What do you take me for?"

"Oh, God give me strength. All right, you get away with it this week, but next weekend you and I are going to sit down together and look at a phone!" I waggle a finger as authoritatively as I can manage. "Otherwise I'll buy you the same one I have, but instead of a nice blue and silver one, I'll get you a custom-made one in… mmm… green and orange."

"Mmm! My favourite colours!"

I look up from the banana I'm three-quarters through. "... Really?"

He flicks his eyebrows once. I tsk , eat the last mouthful of banana, and rise with the peel in hand.

"Right, I've got to run for work. At least look at your bank account and think about spending just a little of it." I pinch my fingers. "A smidge. All right?"

He looks mildly displeased with that. I cackle and with a wave, I'm out of there.

§

The drive is quiet, as it usually is. It's only when I'm on the main drag, some thirty seconds away from the clinic, that things finally pick up. And by pick up, I mean seized very suddenly and launched upward at warp speed, a change marked by a fervent succession of car horn honks.

BEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!

I don't even have to turn around to know who is serenading me with these obnoxious noises, but I do anyway. Sure enough, Shadi is in the car behind me, assailing the horn like it's Uncle Jerry's face.

Their window glides down, and nostalgic pop music spills out of the confines of the vehicle like water from a burst dam. The volume's so high that the words are clear, even with my own window up. When I wind it down, I can hear Shadi singing at the top of their lungs, and being rather fond of the tune myself, I wail along, too.

For ten magnificent, gleaming seconds, we are popstars and hooligans all at once as we cruise the last distance to the clinic parking lot at top volume. Disturbers of the peace, known well to the unfortunate people of Camphor Bay, and yet they don't seem to mind. In fact, our first appointments are already outside the clinic, and they're on their feet, waving their arms and jiving like it's 1999. Fills my heart fit to bursting; suddenly last Friday seems like it was an unpleasant blip in someone else's life.

Of course, when the cars are turned off, the music's off too, but my best friend is firing on all cylinders.

"All right, where is my surprise?" Shadi trumpets by way of a greeting as they bounce out of their car and over to me.

"At home," I say simply, not looking up at their great height as I lock my car and we stroll over to the clinic together.

"Oh, my god. It's been a whole week, you--you--"

"Evil toad woman?" I supply.

"Yes!"

"So caustic. And please, listen to you! A week? It's been four days at the most. Ugh, where the hell is my key…" I pause my offhanded placations to rootle through my backpack. Shadi has a key too, of course, but they're in such fine form that I very much doubt they're of a mind to do anything but watch on in glee as I suffer. A taste of my own medicine, as it were, for keeping them on tenterhooks for so long.

Naturally, I'm not one to diminish people's experiences, and so I make sure to make my agony palpable for Shadi's satisfaction.

"Oh!" I cry after the fruitless investigation of my third backpack pocket. "My key is nowhere to be found. Woe is me! What god loathes me enough to curse me thus?"

"All of them," Shadi declares, arms folded tightly. "You have to enter the clinic via the toad door and unlock it from the inside."

"We haven't got a toad door," I point out from the depths of the fourth pocket of my backpack. "God, it's not in this one, either. I'm starting to think I left them at home now."

They let out a long, theatrical sigh. "Oh, fine. Move over, then, you useless amphibian. Wallah , losing keys and failing basic arithmetic is all you pans ever do."

I move, but not through my own actions: they simply seal their huge hands around my shoulders, lift me up, and deposit me half a metre to the left of where I was. A few seconds later, they produce their key.

"And remembering keys and honking the horn is about all you aroaces do, right?"

The lock opens with a loud click and Shadi pockets the key. Their lips purse for a moment, but a slow, conceding nod follows shortly after. "Well, yeah. But we honk the horn well!"

"My darling, there is no finer honker of horns than yourself." I lay my hand over my heart and bow my head deeply. "The rhythm, timbre, volume-- second to none."

After a short squint, a relenting smile comes over their face. I consider myself almost forgiven.

"Wow, I knew you two were onsite from about five minutes away," comes a voice from behind us.

We turn around and there's Kelly, eyeing us with quite some amusement. He sweeps his long, blonde fringe out of his eyes, whereupon it immediately spites him and flops back into place.

I shrug at him. "Monarchs get a marching band and a fireworks show whenever they go somewhere, and they do fuck-all. What's a bit of horn-honking and caterwauling amongst the great unwashed?"

"The real question is why you didn't join in if you could hear us, Kelly," Shadi raises an eyebrow at him. "What, you don't know the words to Aabar al-Tariq?"

"Throw it on my playlist, huh? I'll have it down by midday."

"Consider it done."

With that sorted, the workday kicks off as I call in Ms. Liao for her appointment, Shadi collects Ms. Jameson, and Kelly plops himself down at the reception desk to babysit the shrieking telephone.

By lunchtime, which miraculously occurs at the scheduled time, I'm at the front desk getting ready to run out and buy the stuff to go on the pizzas; there's no way the drama llama physiotherapist is going to permit even a vague detour from our itinerary after work.

"Y'need anything from Doug's , Kel? Or you can come with, if you like?"

Kelly looks torn. His eyes dart between me and the chair he's slouched in, and then he eventually sighs.

"I'd love to stretch my legs, but you know what? I found the groove in the chair. Doesn't happen much when you have no ass to speak of."

"Ah," I nod understandingly. "Amen to that. Congratulations, and enjoy it while it lasts. Want anything?"

"Mmm, surprise me." He says that as though he's open to anything, but after three years of working with him, I know that the only correct thing to bring back is gummy bears.

"Got it."

As I turn and make to stroll out, Hurricane Shadi bursts out of their office and tears over.

"You weren't going to leave without me." They give me an accusing look.

"Of course not," I croon back. "I knew you'd be emerging from your occupational chrysalis any minute now. You have such little faith in me, baby."

My answer is deemed satisfactory; Shadi turns to Kelly. "Not coming?"

Kelly shakes his head.

"He's found the groove," I explain. Shadi, though not short on flesh in that area themselves, knows the woes of the buttless well enough (via my complaining, of course). They hold up their hands, give a respectful nod, and that's that.

In a flash, we two are in the hypermarket, filling a basket with cans of tomato paste, oil, and suitable soy, meats, and vegetables to go on top of tonight's dinner. It's a good thing Shadi is with me; they can and do cook their own food, and know where to find half of what's on my list.

"Black olives?" Shadi reads aloud in surprise. They look up from the list at me. "You hate black olives. You only eat the green ones, and so do I. What's going o-- oh, my god." I'm suddenly fixed with eyes the size of dinner plates. "You've got a date!"

I shake my head and take the small tub of olives out of the fridge, setting them in the basket. "No, these are olives. You just read the name of the item off the list."

That earns me a withering look. "Don't start. When did this happen? Come on, details!" They whiffle their hand impatiently. "You have approximately the rest of our lunch break to fill me in."

We continue in silence down the aisle, and it takes a nudge and a whine from Shadi before I speak.

"Not a date."

"Not a date? Hmm… all right… what else eats green olives? Animals? OH!" One of their hands excitedly drums my shoulder. "You got a pet! Is it a cat?" I hear a lip-bitten, muffled squeal of delight while I'm reaching for the sun-dried tomatoes. "Can we go home for just a little bit so I can see the baby?"

Another head shake. "Not a cat."

"... a dog?"

"Nope."

"Bird?"

I wrinkle my nose thoughtfully. "In a manner of speaking, yes, I suppose so." I mean, former Crow, you know?

Not that Shadi gets my reference. If their quizzical frown deepens any more, their face is going to collapse in on itself. "So… a bird, but not a bird," they muse.

"Bingo."

The rest of our foray goes quickly and silently. It's only when we stop by the confectionery aisle to get Kelly's gummy bears that Shadi speaks up again.

"Can you maybe give me the ratio of bird to not bird?" It's funny seeing how different Shadi is once they're relaxed enough to speak at a normal volume. Their voice is deep, but has more of a purr to it, as opposed to the ringing, almost operatic tone they usually scream at me with when het-up. Nerves do funny things to people. Right now, though, they're almost talking at a mumble, scratching gently at the stubble on their chin as they do.

Ooh, and they know how to ask the hard questions. How do you quantify membership in the Antivan Crows in proportion to everything else that makes up a person?

"I'd say… probably from about here up is bird," I hold my hand level with my lowest rib and move it up. "But it's steadily decreasing."

Shadi squints at me. "You're not hiding a patient with avian influenza at home, are you? Tell me you're not. Wallah , I'm not coming home with you if you've got someone there with bird flu."

It's my turn to give Shadi a withering look as I throw a kilogram bag of gummy bears into the basket. "You think I'd be turning up to work with something that infectious? And keeping the patient in my own house?"

"You're not giving me much to work with here, habibti," Shadi reminds me as we stroll to the checkout.

I touch my hand to my heart. " Ya Shadi. Beloved Shadi, light of my life Shadi! You seem to have forgotten the part where I guaranteed you would like the surprise!"

Shadi shakes their head. "If I die of the stress from waiting, you're gonna be the one to tell Mom and Baba. Wallah, it'll be on your head, Van."

I reach up and pat Shadi on the shoulder before putting the scanner away with a click and waving my card once to pay. It's declined.

"Ugh, don't be like this," I admonish my little plastic hellraiser, "this is the second time you've done this to me this week! I transferred my entire month's salary onto you, come on!" I rub the card on my jeans; that doesn't actually do anything these days, but it's nice to feel like you're giving it your all. Declined anyway.

Shadi's card is out and paying before I can try a third time. "Call the bank when you get home," they say. I frown and put my own away; I know their bank account number by heart and can transfer the amount back, plus interest. They'll be shitty about the extra money– well, for being paid back at all– for approximately five minutes before they go and blow it on a manga.

"Thank you, my darling," I say, heaving a defeated sigh so they won't get suspicious. "And re: making you die of suspense, I'll take that chance. A bigger risk is burning the pizza." We tend to get a little wrapped up in wild conversations or jamming whenever Shadi's visiting and we're waiting for the pizza to bake; burnt food is not uncommon during our sleepover parties.

They grin warmly. "We can sit on the floor by the oven this time so we don't forget! We'll play manicdotes while we wait."

"God, you're brilliant."

Shadi's liquid brown eyes are gleaming. "I know!"

§

The rest of the afternoon at the clinic flies by. Shadi ends up finishing at around three o'clock and spends an hour fluffing around with Kelly on the workout machines until a last-minute new patient cancellation means the hour I would have spent assessing and treating them is ours for the taking. Naturally, Kelly, Shadi, and I celebrate the only decent way: by G'ing TFO.

Our visit to Mam is kept short because of the perishables in the car, but it goes well. Shadi adores Mam, and even though Mam doesn't remember a thing about them, they have such a warm, exciting presence that she's drawn to them the same way she was to the joyful little gaptoothed kid almost two decades earlier. It even shows in the flowers we turn up with: a huge bouquet of roses, sunflowers, lilies, snapdragons, and sprays of ferns and things whose names could rack up a hundred points apiece on the Scrabble board. The theme, Shadi had informed Doug, was 'HOORAY!' and it's exactly the mood it strikes up.

Leaving Redwood to make for home has a rather different mood to it, and Shadi calls me from their car as we drive home.

"Sometimes when she looked at me, it almost felt like she recognised me, Van, you know? Just… something in the way she smiled. Something familiar. Doesn't happen often, but when it does, I just…" they sigh. "How are you?"

I shrug, and I'm almost certain Shadi knows I did it. "Okay. I know what you mean. I try not to give it any credence, though. Stings a bit, you know?"

They give a small, dolorous 'mmm.'

"But it was easier with you there. Always is. I don't feel quite so villainous when I lie about myself when you're doing it, too."

"Makes her happy, though, habibti. A net positive. You wouldn't do it if it didn't bring her joy. Wallahi, you're doing a good thing for her."

The smile on my face is shaky, and my eyes are prickling far too much to pass off as seasonal allergies, especially at this time of year.

"Thanks, baby," I mumble softly before my attention is caught by Zippo's announcement of a second incoming call. "Hey, Shadi, give me a second? I've gotta take this." I hang up and take the other one. "Zevvo-o-o! Missed you the first time around!"

"Hello, Van. Forgive me, I was putting a book away in the other room."

I let out a ridiculous 'A-ha!' " See? That's why you need a phone! Can't carry a laptop in your back pocket, now, can you?"

He gives a rather lame chuckle. "Not with that attitude, no."

"Well, if you do try, let me know so I can come and watch. I could do with a laugh. Anyway, listen, I called before to let you know we're on the way to you now. Nearly there, in fact. Shadi's been on my arse all day about you, you know, trying to find out what the surprise is. Get ready for a lot of screaming and a lot of blasphemy."

"... Screaming, you say?" he answers. "Will it be because I am too good-looking, or not good-looking enough?"

"Ah, of course, because looks are the only impetus for screaming," I say with a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind the next time someone puts a snake in my bed. Anyway, we're coming into the driveway now, so I'm going to hang up. See you in a moment!"

As Shadi parks their car beside mine, I'm almost jittering with excitement. The shock of Zevran's arrival has lost some of its edge for me now, and it's made room for more pleasant things like anticipation and ecstatic trembling. I really, really liked Zevran when I was a kid, and as an adult, I like him even more. Tonight's going to be a night to remember.

"Leave your stuff in the car for now," I wave a hand as they make their way to the back of their car.

Shadi raises an eyebrow at me. " Now who's the insufferably excited one, hmm?"

"Now, now, I'm doing this for your own good. Whatever's in your arms is going to fall to the floor."

They stride over and link arms with me to give me the hurry-up, dragging me into a speedwalk as we approach the front door. "It's that huge? C'mon, then, open the door. God!"

"Yes , yes, yes-- agh, that's right, I left the keys inside. Fuck!"

It takes substantial effort not to scream with laughter as Shadi lets out an exasperated wail and lets their head drop with a bonk on the clapboard.

"Of all the days, Van! Jesus Christ!"

I'm wheezing so hard I can barely get a breath in, but I force myself to straighten up and knock on the door. "Hey, it's me," I call to Zevran. "I forgot my keys today. Can you open up for me?"

Shadi's head turns to face me, not lifting off the side of the house, and their questioning squint is so intense it's practically a glare.

They don't get the time to say anything, though, as the door unlatches and opens to reveal Zevran standing there with the keychain looped around his finger.

I take the moment of silence as an opportunity to give Zevran a broad smirk before looking over at Shadi, whose mouth has fallen open.

"Holy shit," they whisper, using their hands to prop themselves off the house. "Holy fuckin' shit." They gape at me. "You summoned--? " One hand moves to shakily point a finger at Zevran, who is observing this with muted entertainment. "You-- he-- oh, my god."

"Good afternoon," Zevran says smoothly. It's a nice, polite greeting, but the only thing Shadi seems able to manage is to clap a hand over their mouth, eyes widening even more.

"We'd better get them indoors," I say to Zevran, and he stands aside as I put an arm around Shadi's waist and lead them into the living room, plonking them in the middle of the sofa. Zevran locks the door after me and perches on the arm beside me, putting me in between the two of them.

"Do you need a cushion to scream into?" I ask Shadi, pulling the one out from behind my back. They don't usually accept the offer in front of company, but this time they do, taking it and keening into it like a banshee.

"Don't worry," I say to a rapidly-blinking Zevran. "In about ten seconds their lungs will be empty." I give him a reassuring nod, which he weakly returns, and then turn back to Shadi.

"How are you doing, there?" I pat their back. "You need some water or chocolate or something?"

The shrieking falls away and the cushion drops into their lap. After a few deep breaths, Shadi speaks again.

"This is… Zevran," they utter softly. "Zevran Arainai, from Dragon Age."

I glance at Zevran. "Is that your last name, Zev?" I'd never paid attention to any of the small details like that.

Zevran nods numbly. "It is," he confirms in almost a whisper.

Shadi turns to me. "When did you summon him?"

"Happened one night after I was watching you play," I answer with a shrug.

"Play…?" Zevran echoes, looking completely lost now.

"Ah, right, of course." I smile at Zevran. "You can put stories into the computer that makes it so you can interact with them. It's all set to a degree, but it gives you a lot of freedom to choose how the story develops. Of course, it's not just a story, it's what went on in your world, but that's the explanation of the map in which you existed on the computer here. It's called a video game."

"A video game," he repeats, nodding a little. "I think I understand. Like your movies, but with a choice."

"Right. Dragon Age was the name of the map for you. We interacted with the world by assuming the role of the Warden. Now, just what our character was like, I don't really remember..."

"He was an Amell, too," Shadi says weakly. "Romanced Leliana, remember? She said she liked his eyelashes because they were like little butterflies. Wanted to catch them and keep them in a jar, and that was when I knew I would never be attracted to another person."

I cackle loudly, smacking my knee. "Ah, that's right! God, lovely lady, but weird…"

"Amell was good friends with the Zevran in the story, too, though," they add to Zevran. "He stayed with us right up until the end of the Blight, and then he went adventuring."

Zevran says nothing; he just nods, looking puzzled but determined to take in every snippet of information. Poor guy must be overwhelmed, and we're skipping over so much context. It would be easier to explain things by actually having a runthrough of the game with him.

Hey now.

"You still have that old laptop, Shadi?" I ask thoughtfully.

Shadi gasps. "The laptop! Yes!" They nod quickly. "It's locked away under my bed. I haven't used it in years, but maybe I can coax it into booting up again…"

"Ooh!" I grin at Zevran. "Hear that? If we can get the laptop working, then you can see how we learned about you!"

Zevran wipes over his closed mouth with a hand. "Fascinating," he murmurs after a moment. "I would very much like to see, if I may."

"Yeah yeah! Let me call home quickly. Maybe we can go tomorrow and get it." Shadi's on their feet like lightning and makes for the kitchen, phone in hand. "Vannie, call the bank!" they shout over their shoulder.

I slap my hand to my head as Shadi begins a noisy conversation with Baba. "Ah, the bank!"

"Mmm?" Zevran looks up. "There is a problem with the bank?"

I nod as I take out my debit card from the card slot in my phone case and dial the number on the back of it. "Yeah, I can't buy anything with my card at the moment. Every time I try to pay, the machine refuses."

I'm placed in the queue, because of course I am, and the music playing wouldn't be fit for an elevator, let alone anywhere else. Hoping to protect Zevran from one of the worst auditory features of this realm, I turn to excuse myself and take the call into the next room. His eyes go on me, the colour all but draining from his face.

"Hey." I carefully pat him on the shoulder, giving him a small smile as he faces me with a blank one of his own. "Don't worry about this. We won't starve, I promise. I have another card that has most of my savings on it. This thing," I hold up the misbehaving card, "is just for discretionary–"

"Allied Health Credit Union, this is Clara."

"Eep! Sorry, excuse me." I get up and scuttle into the laundry room to take the call. Five minutes pass as I explain my situation, and Clara has to take ten to get through my impossibly thick skull that both my AHCU card– and Zevran's card, since they're both linked to the same e-mail address, were frozen two days ago after both accounts were wiped clean from an online shopping scam. The purchase in question that went so terribly wrong, so Clara says advised in their report to the bank, was a phone.

Well, that explains an awful lot. No wonder Zevran looked like he was about to meet his Maker when Shadi told me to ring the bank, poor bastard. Clara assures me that the Digital Fraud and Confidence Trickery team is working to get the money back, but it may take some time– and warns there's a possibility that the money's gone for good.

After thanking God– with no small measure of sincerity– that my savings card is with another bank and registered on my work e-mail address, I then thank Clara even more sincerely for her help, put in an order for a new card for me and the rechargeable debit card for Zevran, and hang up.

Back in the living room, Zevran is sitting so rigid you'd think he was diecast, and in the kitchen, Shadi's still on the blower to Baba (rarely does a call with Baba last less than a half-hour, even if you'd only seen him that day).

Zevran loosens up when he catches sight of me. He looks distinctly unwell, even with the half-smile he offers. I perch beside him on the sofa.

"Hey," I say gently. "So, uh… guess that phone you wanted to buy didn't turn out, huh?"

He wets his lips a little and shakes his head. "No, I'm… afraid it did not. Forgive me, Van, as soon as the phone came, I realised I had been duped. The website, it looked completely fine when I looked for the signs of trickery you showed me, but I must have missed something. I thought once I reported it that the money would come back, but…" His eyes drop to my shoulder and stay there. "And your money was taken, too?"

I shrug. "All the money on that card, yeah. But it's a month's wages, nothing more, and we'll probably get it all back soon anyway. Don't sweat it, internet scams happen to the best of us."

His eyes widen. "A– a month's–?"

"Ah…" I chuckle. "Not to flaunt my newfound wealth, but I've got about four months' wages on another card that won't have been touched. We're fine for money, truly."

Zevran shakes his head and swallows hard. "I should have said something. Well, I should not have gone against your wishes in the first place–"

I snort. "Probably not. This was part of why I wanted to be there when you chose your phone. But, you know, we all have very embarrassing learning curve stories to look back on. You'll have to let me tell you about what happened when I was a junior doctor delivering babies. Disaster!"

His smile looks so fake I can almost see the scaffolding keeping it in place. I sigh and fold my hands in my lap.

"Zev. Sweetheart, can you look at me for a moment?" I almost regret asking him to do that when I get fixed with that numb expression again, but I stick a smile on anyway. "Thank you. Look, I'll be the first to admit that I'd rather this doesn't happen again, right? Entertaining as it is, it's not worth twenty-six thou a pop, right?"

He nods. Sort of.

"And I don't blame you for not telling me." I shrug. "Shit, if I were you, I wouldn't either. It's been two weeks, you don't know me from a bar of soap. And I bet the Crows treated you horribly, so you probably thought you had that to look forward to if you came clean. It'd be terrifying." A sigh escapes me before I can stop it. "Like I said, I don't expect you to trust me, but what I'd like to do is tell you what's going to happen now, so you can be ready for it. Can we do that?"

Another, much more intent nod.

"We're going to take a few minutes to change my passwords for my e-mail and banking so that whoever got access is locked out again. I want you to watch on so you know what to do if this happens to you once you have your own accounts. That's the first thing. So far so good?"

"Of course, yes."

"Cool. Once that's sorted, there's nothing else we need to do but wait for the bank to send us our new cards and put money on them. That'll be a few days away. So we'll leave all that and we'll go and make dinner with Shadi, and then we'll sit and talk, maybe play a game or watch the news, until it's time to go to sleep." I dust my hands off. "And that's the rest of today. Can you get the laptop, please, Zevvo?"

Zevran's on his feet far too quickly to be mistaken for someone at ease. He darts away to the kitchen, where Shadi's still talking up a storm. When he returns with the same quickness a moment later, I pat the seat beside me in what I hope is a friendly gesture.

"Easy does it, big feller," I say through a smile as I take the laptop off him. I'd offer the poor bugger a hug but frankly, I don't know if he'd like it or just fall over dead. "No harm done here. And if there was a problem, we'd sit down and work out a solution together. The hardest part's over."

He nods, stiffly. But still, it's a nod. We're in business.

By the time we're done, Shadi's marching back in to us. Before they can open their mouth, I declare to them, at the top of my voice, "I'm hungry. I came to this establishment to get fed, and so far it's been nothing but conversation and computers."

"I'm going to throw you out of this establishment if complaining is the only thing you're going to do here," Shadi snips back. "Now, where are your speakers? I found one of Gram's ancient playlists."

"Ooh!" I'm gleeful. Gram, Mom's mother, is seven thousand years old and has the most wildly eclectic tastes in music. Stumbling on one of her playlists is akin to winning a year-long pass to an amusement park. "On top of the microwave, darling. Quick, put it on before the suspense kills me! Oh, Gram!"

The speaker comes alive with a soft bloop, and a second later, the kitchen is filling up with a song neither Shadi nor I recognise (and Zevran obviously doesn't, either), but it's got a hell of a rhythm to it. Enough of a space between the snare beats to get a good sway going, but not too slow that you couldn't get a zippy slide in there. The bass underneath it all is smooth and easy as a sip of whisky, and the urge to dance is too irresistible. It somehow has the right tempo for everything- me with my borderline-aggressive popping, Shadi's exuberant, almost hypnotising raqs sharqi, and Zevran, after he's watched us for a few moments, with a one-person salsa so smooth and enrapturing you'd never know it was a dance meant for two.

The food is all but abandoned as we swing and zip and gyrate around the kitchen, lost in our own moves and beguiled by each other's as well, all sense of insecurity or poor mood completely lost to the beat and the tenor voice belting out over the top of it.

By the time the third song has come and gone, I have to be the baddie and remind all present that food is not safe to eat after it's been left out for too long, and we resign ourselves to dancing in our designated food preparation spots. Shadi's preparing the sauces and shaking their moneymaker, Zevran's cutting up the toppings, marking time with swinging hips, and I'm rolling out the dough with the grace of a cat choking on a fish bone.

It's another hour before we get to eat (several more bangers came on and we were obliged to react appropriately, which meant more dancing), but we get there with a good appetite to boot. The small table on the verandah, where we decide to eat, is entirely taken over by three enormous pizzas, each playing host to about six different flavours; our hands are our plates, as there's nowhere else to put them, and our drinks are by our feet.

"What did Baba end up saying, anyway?" I ask.

"Mmm!" Shadi mumbles enthusiastically through a mouthful of some sort of five-cheese artery clogger. "He sends his love. Insha'allah him and Mom are going to a party tomorrow. They'll be going pretty early to help set up, so we have plenty of time to go there, get the laptop, and come back."

"Ooh," I give Zevran a gentle nudge. "Your first road trip, Zevvo! Are you excited?"

"Only short," Shadi points out. "Home's an hour and a half, maybe two hours from here by car."

Zevran smiles. "I am always ready for an adventure," he declares.

A thoughtful hum comes from Shadi. "When did you actually get here, Zevran?"

"Oh, it would have been thirteen days ago, now, I would think," Zevran answers, wrinkling his chin a little. He looks at me. "It was on a Friday, Van, was it not?"

My mouth is full of piri-piri chicken; I can only offer an 'mmph' and a nod to confirm.

"Amazing," Shadi murmurs, giving a low whistle. "I don't know how you hid it from me all this time. You can barely even keep birthday presents a secr-- Zevran!"

Placidly, Zevran looks up from his slice of vegetarian pizza. At that moment, he's the polar opposite of Shadi, who looks like they got startled by their own lightbulb moment. "Mmm?"

"When's your birthday?"

Hmm! It hadn't occurred to me to ask, but that would make for useful information, both for birthday and bureaucratic purposes. I listen with interest.

Zevran quirks a brow at Shadi. "Crows do not have birthdays, my friend," he replies, politely wry. "Particularly not elves who were recruited from a whorehouse. Record keeping is… shall we say, quite poor in such institutions." When he sees Shadi's face pinch in mortification, he chuckles. "But I was born in year five, if that helps."

Shadi and I share a blank look.

"Does… that mean something?" Shadi asks. "Like a horoscope or something?"

Another chuckle. "It means that I know my age, roughly at least. If I am not already, I will be twenty-six by the end of the year. I usually choose the upper age of my options, if asked."

Shadi nudges me with their elbow, but speaks so that they're addressing both me and Zevran. "Hey. Zevran's older than us. Old man Zevran."

"By one year," I point out, holding up one finger. "Maybe even less."

Zevran gives a low chortle. "Mmm, I am practically ancient by Crow standards. Van told me there are reduced prices for the elderly for some things. Perhaps we could enquire further?"

I snort. "That'd go well. We'd dress you up as an old feller and you'd find a way to do a handstand on the walking stick we gave you. Cover blown, no discount."

He tsks at me. "Such little faith you have in this aged man, Van."

I shrug, nibbling at a piece of crust as breezily as I can manage. "Am I wrong?"

I get nothing more than a playful tut-tut from Zevran before he turns back to Shadi. "Why did you wish to know my birthday, then, hmm? You are wondering if I am too old for you?" He winks, and Shadi's face goes blank.

"Too old f--?" They look at me, seeking clarification, and when I give them a meaningful look, it clicks for them. "Oh. Oh!" Shadi laughs loudly. "Oh wow, have you got the wrong person! You, uh, wouldn't have heard of aroaces in Antiva, would you?"

After Zevran racks his brain and comes back with a no, Shadi briefly explains the concept and their particular flavour of it, leaving a moment afterward for Zevran to digest the information.

Zevran shrugs and nods. "That seems quite fair. Even a master seducer knows there is more to life than lovemaking and the like. And as for attachments, well! Ask any Crow if they are needed. Even friendships are unnecessary." He chuckles, and Shadi and I share a small, sad glance. Brief though it was, Zevran notices, just as he notices everything, and the awkwardness climbs rapidly.

I step in before Zevran can start with some sort of distraction by huffing a laugh and saying, "The reason Shadi wanted your birthday was probably so they could find out your star sign. Right, Shadi?"

Shadi pauses mid-eyeroll. "All right, fine, that was part of it, I'll admit, but birthdays are a good excuse for a party."

This prompts a delighted hum from Zevran. "I do love a good party. Perhaps I shall make up a birthdate, see where it takes us, hmm?"

Enthusiastic mumbles from mid-mouthful Shadi and me ensue, which Zevran takes with his usual good humour.

"Then it is settled. And this star sign business, what is that?" He looks heavenward, squinting a little. "I saw signs by the side of the roads here. But you do not use all this technology to put signs up on your stars as well, surely."

"Nah, it's a bit of fun that helps you to remember birthdays and pigeonhole people," Shadi explains with a chuckle. "The idea is that the time of year you were born in determines your personality because a certain star constellation lined up with the sun."

Zevran's face goes curiously hard. "Is this something that you two believe in?"

I burst out laughing, and Shadi shakes their head.

"Not my thing, and definitely not hers" Shadi replies, jerking their thumb at a still-laughing me. "They use descriptors anyone could relate to. You know, stuff like, 'loves to laugh' or 'drinks at least one glass of water a day.' But it's fun."

"It's pseudoscience," I gasp when I get my breath back, and I see the smirk Zevran was trying to palisade. "The fun is tricking people with fake star sign names. We use bacterial names. Shadi's is 'staphylococcus,' and mine is 'vibrio.'"

Zevran snorts and shakes his head, and we return to devouring the pizza in silence until Shadi is seized with another urgent declaration.

"Can I just say," they already begin saying, "This dough is great. I didn't know you could get fresh stuff from Doug's , Van."

I grin. "Oh, it's not Doug's work. Zevran's magic is behind this one."

Zevran clears his throat loudly and raises an eyebrow at me as Shadi goggles at Zevran.

"It's so good, Zevran!" Shadi insists, taking his soft glares at me for modesty. "You magic dough man, you! … Uh, am I interrupting something here?" They seem to have picked up on our staring contest.

I give a harassed sigh. "Agh, I helped a little. Oh, stop looking at me like that, toad man. Oh, fine. Fine! We made it together. That's my final offer!" I point at Zevran, who rolls his eyes at me.

Shadi's eyes widen. "You… got Van to cook? Holy shit, time for a toast." They reach under their chair and swipe up their lemonade, holding it up. Zevran is quick to follow suit, and after Shadi waves their bottle at me, I collect mine and raise it with theirs.

"A toast to Zevran," Shadi says, "who works miracles and is an amazing dancer."

"To Zev," I declare in grinning agreement as we all clink our bottles and take a sip. "Here at last."

"Here at last!" Shadi echoes enthusiastically, clinking everyone's bottles again.

It takes a moment for Zevran to bring his arm down from the toast, and when I catch a look of him drinking, even in the dim glow of the porch light, the tips of his ears are flushed, and his eyes are crinkled deeply.