I wake Torrent up when I find it.

I found them all sleeping together in a tight huddle, Baby Girl facing Torrent and Steven with his back turned to them. Skyra had already flown into the sky, stretching her wings. I went to shake Alexa out of her sleep and her hair slid away from the back of her neck and I felt my throat constrict.

His eyes open immediately, and when my hands tighten around his shoulder, he sits up quietly, making sure not to wake her. Carefully, I push hair away so that the entirety of the scar is showing, the white, carefully cut letters almost invisible on the pale skin of her neck.

M. I. N. E.

In capital letters, someone claimed her as his own. Torrent's eyes narrow in anger. I know what he's thinking. He wants to maim the person who would dare do such a thing.

But who is this person?

Let's see.

The scar is at least four years old, inferring by how much it has healed. This rules out anyone we've met in this world. Judging by the fact that Baby Girl never touches it or mentioned it, she's forgotten about it, implying that she was either too young to remember, or repressed the memory. The letters look clean - knife cut? No. Cleaner. Scalpel? Maybe. Something else about it being clean. There was no struggle, or else it would be jagged. Drugged? Maybe. Or someone she trusted did this. Perhaps both.

Torrent shoots a dirty look at Steven, but I shake my head ever so slightly. His eyebrows contract, still angry. Something must have happened yesterday to make him this displeased. Well, Steven is creepy; anything could have happened.

Come on, Briar. Back to the scar.

Not big at all. An inch high and two inches wide. Now about the words themselves. MINE. Not in lowercase, but in uppercase. A declarative statement. Not meant to be pretty, but meant to be almost a warning. A do-not-touch sign. Someone who was possessive, but not so much sadistic. This wouldn't hurt too much.

Options, options.

Friend? She had none. Someone she didn't know? Just someone who plucked her off the street and gouged the word into her? Maybe, highly unlikely though. Relative? Family tree is mother, distant father, grandfather, and brother.

And that's where I stop. I don't have enough information. I know don't know the characters of the mother, father, or grandfather.

Then again, maybe brother.

"Interesting."

I glance up to see Stavros crouching behind us.

"Very interesting," he whispers, continuing. "Where have I seen that before?" His index finger hooks the bottom of Steven's casual t-shirt and drags it up to show a muscled back. And there it is. Torrent breathes out a hiss.

MINE.

But it looks different. This one is bigger, jagged, stretching across his shoulder blades in abandon. No scalpel this time. No precision. Someone who was, once again, possessive. But this time, sadistic.

Stavros lets out a very strange chuckle when he pulls the shirt back down.

"Just between us three, okay?" he smiles, putting a finger to his lips. Eyes glow red. "I wasn't supposed to show you guys, but you little ones are just too cute. Oh, and payment," he leans in and I don't move away when he kisses me solidly on my mouth.

Suddenly, his voice fills my mind and I close my eyes.

"If you want to keep her safe, I suggest you don't tell her. Or Steven. You'll figure it out. You're smart." Stavros's red-tinted voice recedes with his lips. I resist the urge to spit the taste of metal out of my mouth. With one careless hand, he catches Torrent's outraged punch. "Let's not forget the level difference between us, shall we?" he says and walks off, laughing that strange laugh.

"Fuck, Briar, Skyra's already your compass," Torrent mutters, running a hand through his hair, "that wasn't cool. You're already promised."

"Don't tell Alexa."

"What? Why would I tell Lexa about your relationship problems?"

"Because you tell her everything. But no, I mean about the scars."

"What?!"

"Steven might get angry," I lie, "And he's valuable, since he's pretty high up on the social ladder." Not a lie.

"That's a weak excuse."

"But you won't tell. Because you trust me."

"Unfortunately," he grumbles. And I ruffle his hair, because I can't help it. He's my best friend and I love him fiercely.

Just, not in the way he loves me.

When I pull away my hand, he's pink around the ears. Only slightly though.

"Wake them up. It's sunrise."

I always like watching Torrent wake her up. Anybody who thinks he's obnoxious, who thinks he's heartless or insensitive only needs to watch him wake up Alexa.

"Lexa?" he smooths the hair away from her forehead and kisses it. "Lexa, time to wake up." There isn't a trace of his loud personality in his movements. He wakes her up gently, eases her out of sleep. "Lexa, something about the way," he sings softly. He has a surprisingly good voice, "it's something about the way you look in my eyes / You make everything so damn easy / so easy that I don't got to worry about a thing." Steven wakes up first, rubbing his face and listening. Torrent doesn't notice. Or care. "And Lexa, when we touch / all I can see is the image of us / sitting by the ocean just before the dusk / sipping on a juice box with sand between our toes." She makes little noises of protest as Torrent cradles her to his chest. "And this is the part where we say we're in love / and the part where we say it's forever / But this ain't a fantasy, I know you can't come with me." He kisses her again on her nose, rubbing his forehead with hers. "You got your life / He better be treating you right."

It's aways like this.

Every morning he wakes her, he steeps the sunrise in a song.

"Hell, no," Torrent deadpans, "She is not wearing anything that dips that low." Huge, glass windows line the front of the store, outlining the beautiful mountains that circle Fallarbor, as well as the gentle soot that falls constantly, feeding the soil. "And what kind of place is this anyway? I've never seen a store so big that sells just clothes."

"Well, Fallarbor holds a lot of conventions, so a lot of the wealthy gather here. You'll see a lot of luxury shops and such," Bastion comments, motioning for the helper to get another dress. He grits his teeth, angry that a Piece is ordering him around, but complies with one look at Steven.

"I guess you've been here often," Aiden says.

"Often enough."

Behind us, Baby Girl talks with Steven, recounting past events. Skyra soars outside, racing the wind.

"I didn't know Steven was this rich," Aiden mutters, looking at the price tag of the next dress. "But anyway, what about this one, Torrent?"

"I'd rather she just not go," he groans in answer, frustratedly raking a hand through his hair, "but that one's not that bad, I guess. Hey! Lexa!" She turns. "Try this one!"

And really, it's not bad. The dress ends right above her knees in a waterfall of black ruffles and lace. Sheer material gently clings to her shoulders and collarbones.

"You look..."

"-young," Torrent finishes, grinning. "And really cute." She blushes, hiding her face in his shirt. "I can't wait to see the food they have-"

"-negative," Bastion interrupts, stopping Torrent. "Pieces who aren't captured in PALs aren't allowed. People would freak out. So you would have to dress up as a human, child. And I don't think you would like wearing a suit."

Torrent frowns.

"Well, yeah, I wouldn't like wearing a suit, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't do it to go with Lexa."

"Also, your personality doesn't suit these kind of events. You'd just end up making everybody very angry. If anybody should go, I think Briar should." I feel her eyes focus on me, glittering through the narrow crevices in her helmet. "Just my opinion, children."

"She's right," Stavros says, walking up to us. He's stripped of his usual clothes and is wearing formal attire, with his hair gelled back. He removes his mask to reveal very white teeth and a small scar that vertically slashes his lips. "But don't worry, you're not missing much. It's fucking boring as fuck."

"Wow," Alexa's eyes shine in an unspoken compliment. "Wow."

"Thanks, little lady," he smiles with a cockiness I know is easy for him. I remember his mouth tastes like a blade. His scar makes more sense now. "I'm sure Briar will be just as hot."

I let myself be led to the changing room and put on whatever is handed to me. When I step out, Alexa runs to me. I scoop her up and hold her while she nuzzles against my dark suit jacket.

"So cute," she mumbles. I roll my eyes.

When we step outside, Skyra dive bombs me and I get a sort of thrill, watching her stop right before she hits me. She could kill me easily, but she never does.

"Going alone," I say.

A rush of emotions cross her face. Surprise, disappointment, amusement, pity, and a carefully neutralness, in that order.

"Okay," she says, fingering my collar, "You look nice though. You should take off the cuff, maybe," she points at her bandana wrapped around my wrist.

"I don't think so." I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ears. "Give me a kiss." She does and I feel my brain go numb with giddiness. "Another," I whisper when she pulls away, her mouth tasting like fennel. She blushes and pushes my face away, turning to Alexa.

"Be careful, okay?"

"Okay," Alexa responds. "Bastion, are you gonna stay with them?"

"Most likely."

"Then, can you help them ask what Dianli wants?" She twists her hands in front of her. "I don't want him hurting anyone if he comes out. But if he wants to be released, I need his consent, too. And you're a lot higher in level."

Not a bad idea.

"I would be my honor, child. Have fun."

When we enter the building, I have to push her slightly to keep her moving.

The banquet hall is enormous. A chocolate fountain sits in the middle, while the rest of the room radiates outwards in a perfect circle of luxury and refreshments. There are clusters of tables on the outer edge of the room where the lighting is dim and candles placed on dasmak tablecloths cast a glow over the people seated. Closer to the inside is a circular dance floor where more people seem to be socializing with tiny glasses of champagne in their hand than dancing. Opulent couches sprawl in strategic locations, offering seating for those invested in card games. All throughout, waiters and Pieces move, offering beverages and hors d'oeuvre.

"Steven!" she squeaks and clutches onto his hand. He looks down, surprised, and then back up at her.

"What's wrong?"

"This isn't what I was expecting! Why are there so many-"

She's interrupted by a butler that approaches with a microphone in hand.

"Good evening, Dr. Stone. How may I introduce your company?"

"As Dr. Stavros and guests, Farren. Thank you."

"It would be my pleasure, sir." He holds the microphone to his mouth. "Introducing Dr. Stone, Dr. Stavros, and guests." His voice, amplified over the speakers, still isn't very loud, but the buzzing in the room doubles.

"Ah, I forget you aren't used to this kind of thing," Steven says with one look at Alexa's face.

"It's just people, Baby Girl," I whisper into her ear.

"You wanna know a trick?" Stavros asks, descending the stairs. Alexa nods. "Okay, little girl. Shoulders back, head up, and think murder," he hisses the last word, and walks down with a cocky smile on his face.

We follow, Alexa tightly gripping both our hands.

"Dr. Stone!" We're greeted by a group of women. The leader seems to be a tall redhead with a light sprinkling of freckles. Her dress shimmers emerald. "I wasn't sure if you were coming today! I'm so glad to see you!"

"As am I, Claire. How are you and the ladies today?"

"Fine, fine! I see Dr. Stavros looks as handsome as ever." When Stavros hears his name, he looks up, winks, and turns back to his own conversation. "And who might this be?"

"Ah, this is Briar. We traveled on Victory Road together for a bit, he and I."

"Nice to meet you, Claire," I say calmly, shaking her hand. No title. I called her by her first name, just as Steven had, implying that my social status was above hers. It must have worked, because the other members of the group suddenly eye me with newfound interest.

"Well, Briar," she says, "I wonder if you brought a date tonight? If you didn't..." she trails off, gesturing at the girls behind her.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm already taken."

"Oh, that's too bad." She focuses her attention on Alexa. "And what about you?" Her voice is sweet and motherly. "Honey, what's your name?"

"Alexa," she says in a small voice.

"Well, aren't you the cutest thing? Is this your date, Dr. Stone?"

Steven coughs, covering his mouth with a fist. The barest tint of pink brushes his nose.

"Oh, you rascal!" Claire laughs, and the women behind her laugh, like a single entity. "Well, Dr. Stone, we don't want to take up too much of your time. We'll see you later!"

"Am I your date?" she asks quietly when they walk off.

"Ah, somewhat," Steven murmurs, guiding her through the crowd. "Does it bother you?"

She shrugs.

"I've just never been on a date before." She turns a shade of rose. "I don't know how I'm supposed to be feeling."

"Just enjoy yourself. The food, if anything, is divine." He pulls out a chair to a table and pushes it in when she sits. "Besides, the safest position is to be my date." He slips a ring off his finger, the one that looks like a many sided die, and slips it on her thumb. "I need to go socialize. It's almost mandatory in this setting. The waiter will come soon. Show him the ring and order whatever you want. I'll send Stavros to check on you. Remember, you don't have to answer any question you don't want to." He turns to me. "Can I kiss her cheek?" he asks, with a glance at the people whispering around us. "People need proof. They won't bother her after."

"Why are you asking me?" I yawn, taking a drink of water.

"Is it okay?" When she nods, he kisses her cheek chastely. "I'll be back soon, sweetheart."

He strides off into the crowd.

"We can leave if you want," I say immediately.

"But food," she says, as if it's a well thought-out, insurmountable counter-argument. "And it's not that bad." She leans on my shoulder, holding my hand. "We haven't talked like this in a while. Just us two."

"That's true," I agree.

"Are you happy with Skyra?"

"Very."

"What about her makes you happy?"

I close my eyes, thinking.

"Her courage. But that's such a general answer. I guess, although she has all types of courage, it's her moral courage that appeals to me the most. I like how she thinks in circles and how she values my opinion, as if she needs my linearity to straighten her thoughts out. I like the way her hands twitch when she sleeps." I open my eyes. "It's an infinite list."

"Torrent likes you."

In the face of such intense scrutiny, I realize can't lie to her.

"I know."

"I knew it," she whispers. "You should tell him."

"I don't want to hurt him."

"Pretending you don't know is hurting him more, I think."

"I couldn't bear the look on his face if I tell him that I love him, but I'm not in love with him. I'm hoping he just moves on one day."

"That's cruel."

"I am cruel."

"That's not true. You're a nice person."

"Being a nice person doesn't mean I'm not cruel." She thinks about that for a moment. The waiter comes and places a menu in front of us. I tap at the ring and order two apples juices.

"Anyway, I think you should tell him."

"Did you have friends after Ash died?" I ask, changing the subject.

She glares at me for the attempt, but starts to speak anyway.

"Maybe a couple. They were more like acquaintances. There was a girl named Rhea I met during counseling. She was really nice and we both thought that crayons should taste like the appropriate flavors. But nobody else other than her."

There is a lull when our apple juices comes. I hand the menu to the waiter and ask him for a ten-course meal with whatever the chef recommends. I mention that the cost is no problem and he scurries off.

"Do you think Steven will get mad?"

"No, I don't think so. Steven is wealthy."

"I didn't know he was a doctor. What kind of doctor do you think he is?"

"I think he's a human doctor."

"I don't really know much about Steven, I guess."

"I thought you text him a lot."

"I do, but he mostly texts me poetry from different authors and I critique. Or he sends me pictures of really pretty stones. Anyway, I think I text Brendan more."

"Yeah? What do you guys talk about?"

"A lot of things. Everything. He texts me good morning everyday. We play question for question. So he asks me something and then I ask him something. I know a lot about him now, I think. His favorite color and his hopes and if he thinks he'll ever get rid of his hatred for his mom and how his team is doing and if he's ever had any girlfriends and what his newest paper on psychology is on and whether it was published or not. We talk about a lot of things. He tells me a lot of funny stories about when he was little. Like one time, his father was working in the field and got cornered by a little Zigzagoon and let out the girliest scream ever." She chuckles, stretching out her arms on the table like a little cat. The waiter comes with our first course, tomato bruschetta with fresh mozzarella and raw oysters with cocktail sauce. "And every night, he says goodnight and that he's sorry."

"What is he sorry for?"

"For making me mad last time. For instigating me. For manipulating." She bites her lip. "A week ago, he started saying 'I love you' every night. But..." she turns to me, looking helpless, "...but I can't feel anything except a really numb feeling in my chest. It's like when Steven kissed my neck yesterday." I quickly put down my glass before I shatter it. "I don't feel happy or sad. I just feel scared and numb. Is that bad? Am I a bad person?"

"No," I say softly, running a thumb over her knuckles. She doesn't look reassured but reaches out and plucks a bruschetta off the plate.

"Anyway, he hasn't texted in awhile. He asked me if I was okay. And then he said sorry and just stopped responding... This is good, Briar," she says, surprise on her face when she bites into it.

"Good. Eat and brag to Torrent."

We eat, and when I've finished the last oyster, the waiter appears, taking away the plates and putting down two soups, consommé olga and cream of barley.

"Yuck," she says, tasting the barley. I end up eating both her bowls of barley while she drinks both the bowls of consommé olga.

"Do you love your mom?" I ask when the waiter brings poached salmon with mousseline sauce and cucumbers.

"Yeah. A whole lot."

"Who do you love more, Ash or your mom?"

"Ash." She stops eating, frowning. "And I know it's not good that I say that without hesitation."

"What do you like about your mom?"

"She's an artist and was always kind of busy, but she would always hug me when I came home from school and always hug Ash, even when he was mad. She always set a plate for dad on the table and she smelled like really tasty bread. She's a really nice person. She kissed me a lot and we cuddled and watched movies when I was sick and Ash had to go to school."

Filet mignons lili, sauté of chicken with lyonnaise, and vegetable marrow farci is set before us. Suddenly, Stravos walks to our table, spears a chicken from her plate, and walks away with it, ripping it apart with his teeth. He's trailed my young, giggling women.

"What did you like about Ash?"

At this, she smiles.

"So many things! I remember, when I was really little, he was the one that showed me how to ride a bike. And he would sit with me at the kitchen table and teach me math because I didn't get it. I remember it so clearly. He borrowed mom's headband to push back his hair because it was getting long. And one day, when I was at kindergarden, he shouted at the boys who were bullying me and they never did again. He also taught me self-defense after that and when I caught up to him, we learned together. It's just..." She looked lost in thought. "After he turned twelve, he started to get weird. He would still help me with homework, but sometimes, he would start hitting me with a ruler if I didn't get the problem fast enough. And he would start telling me that I couldn't go to places with my friends. Mom said he was going through puberty."

"Were you scared of him?"

"I think the first time I actually was scared of him was a really calm afternoon. We were playing Pokémon next to each other when all of a sudden he said that they should be dead. And I asked him who and he said that the Pokémon should be dead and that it didn't make sense for them to be alive and he wished he could kill them all. After that, he got a lot scarier and he made a lot more rules." Her voice dropped. "He hit mom once."

I itch to ask her about the scar, but I don't want to risk her safety, whatever that may entail.

Steven takes a seat just as the fifth course is being served: lamb with mint sauce, roast duckling with apple sauce, sirloin of beef with chateau potatoes, green peas, creamed carrots, boiled rice, and parmentier with boiled new potatoes.

"Will you be joining them, Dr. Stone?"

"Yes, but I'll join with the next course, thank you."

"What kind of doctor are you, Steven?"

"A neurosurgeon and general internist."

"Did you go to medical school for that?" she asks around a mouth of potatoes.

"Ah, well, there is no medical school here. It's more of an immediate and prolonged residency," he answers, stealing a bite of lamb. "I didn't expect so many people to be here today. Sorry it took so long."

"It's okay," she says, swinging her legs. "I got to talk with Briar."

"What do you even talk about with people here?" I question.

"It's mostly strengthening business connections. And a role call. It's important to be present at these type of events."

"I thought you weren't a daddy's boy."

"I'm not," he says, taking a sip of my apple juice, "but it doesn't hurt that I'm building my network to be far vaster than my father's. Connections are important."

"That's why we still let you hang with us," Alexa says, busily stuffing her mouth with sirloin.

"Ouch," Steven grins, "I see you went all out on my bank account."

"It's tasty," she counters. "And you're rich."

"Very well put."

"How do I become a better trainer?" she asks abruptly.

The question startles him enough to make him put down his glass and look at her carefully.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I think it may be because I'm a trainer," she responds, her voice thick with sarcasm.

He grins.

"So you learned how to be a sarcastic little shit, huh?" The profanity sounds so strange coming from his mouth that I can't help the laugh that escapes my mouth. "How to be a good trainer... Do you exercise?"

"I can do two pull-ups now," she boasts, making his lips twitch in amusement.

"Alright. Well, training your body is really important. You can't have your arms and legs fail you when you need them the most. Also, decision making is important. Pieces have valuable insight, but many of them can only think analytically or emotionally. Their brains are wired that way. It's up to you to combine those together and and make the best decisions." He pauses, and then starts again. "Always cry after a death. Never promise that no one else will die." I remember the promise she had made me and thinking it was ridiculous that she would guarantee that no one else would fall. She lightly squeezes my hand; I know she remembers, too.

"Do you have training tips?"

"I don't think... oh! Don't EV train. There's no such thing as EV training here, so you would just be wasting your time. Poison isn't step by step here, like it is in the games. It's time and level dependent. Also, always make sure that your Pieces are strong enough to take at least one critical hit. Because that's all it takes. Just one."

The waiter brings glittering glasses of punch romaine.

"No, no, no, no, no," Steven says when she reaches for a glass, pushing her hand away. "Why is the chef serving alcohol to you?"

"But it looks tasty," she whines.

"No. Give me that." With one toss of his head, he drains it to the dregs. "Dessert will be good. So don't drink this. How old are you Briar?"

"Twenty-six in human years, twenty-five in Piece years." I take the glass from him and sip it slowly. It tastes like oranges. He starts on the second glass.

"What does it taste like?" Curious fingers reach over the edge of my cup.

"Oranges. Just a sip, okay?"

She takes a small sip.

"Mm!" She licks her lips. "Tastes good!"

"Good evening, Steven Stone," a familiar voice calls. Wynne Arabella Ethel Lytton smiles back at us. Steven looks up from his glass and nods.

"Wynne. What a surprise."

"Indeed. I didn't expect to see you here, Dr. Stone."

"That's what everybody seems to be saying." Steven takes a gulp of his drink.

She looks at Alexa.

"Hello."

"Hello," Alexa responds, holding her head up. Her blue eyes crackle with pride.

"I take it you didn't consider what I said last time."

"I considered," Alexa says carefully.

Wynne looks at her apple juice.

"Oh, you're too young to drink? What a pity."

"The only people who hold the privilege of drink over others," Steven says quietly, "are brats and drunkards."

She doesn't exactly flush, but her pupils constrict and her face looks vaguely embarrassed.

"My father wants-"

"-I just talked to your father, Wynne. He doesn't need anything."

"Why don't you come sit at our table, Dr. Stone?"

"Because I'm enjoying dinner with my date and my friend."

Silence.

"But I want you to," Wynne says in a low voice. And then almost as an afterthought, "And my father will be displeased."

"Oh, grow up, Wynne," Steven growls. "You're a twenty-one year old woman who still uses her father as leverage. No, he will not be displeased, because we just finished talking about this. I have said no multiple times on many different occasions. I ask you to respect my decision. Even when I was dating Red, you continued to ask."

"That was never made public," she responds frigidly. Steven snorts. "So why her, then?" she demands, crossing her arms. "Why is she your date?"

"Well, she's sane, for one thing," I mutter into my cup. Steven chokes on his drink.

"She's pretty," Steven ticks off on his fingers after clearing his throat, "She's not smart, but she's intelligent. She isn't afraid to critique my poems without thought to my feelings."

It's Alexa's turn to choke on her drink and I can barely repress my laughter.

"I don't know, Wynne," Steven's voice softens. "You can't categorize emotions like that. You can't depend on a list of qualifications to govern who you love."

The waiter sidles up and puts down the next course of roasted squab and watercress. He feels the tension in the air, hesitates, then looks at Steven.

"Will Miss Lytton be joining?"

"No, she won't," Steven responds, turning back to his cup. "Go back to your father, Wynne. Remind him that his son misses him."

To her credit, she holds her head high all the way back to her father's table, back rigid with dignity.

"That was terrible of you," I comment.

"She's asked me nineteen times. Until what point do I have to keep up the facade that I care?"

"I wonder." The rum in the drink swirls with the orange.

"I don't know," Alexa muses, "I would cry if Torrent wrote me off like that. Maybe you should apologize to her."

"Why apologize when I'm not sorry?"

"Maybe you should be sorry."

"Maybe."

We're silent through the the remainder of this course and well into the next of cold asparagus vinaigrette. Alexa makes a face and pushes the plate towards me.

"I didn't know those were your poems," she finally says, uneasily. "I thought they were someone else's, so I just told you what I thought."

"I'm sure you would have told me what you thought even if you knew they were mine."

"Are you published?"

"Yes."

"Are you well-known?"

"Fairly."

"Just fairly?"

"Maybe more than fairly."

"I think Brendan quoted your poem before."

"Brendan? Brendan Birch? Professor Birch's son?"

"Yeah."

"I wasn't aware you knew him."

"He was there when I came through the closet from my world. And we text a lot."

"Hm. Do you enjoy talking with him?"

"Yeah. Although he hasn't responded in a while."

"So he would be my so-called rival," Steven mutters to himself. "What a terrible plot."

"What?" she asks, confused.

I snicker.

"Hm," Steven looks at me with turquoise eyes. "You would be a very good friend if I met you earlier."

"It's never to late to start," I counter.

Stavros plunks himself down on a seat next to Steven.

"Can you imagine," he says, helping himself to the newly arrived pate de foie gras and celery, "what would happen if all these woman knew I was a Piece?"

"Don't do anything stupid, Stavros," Steven remarks.

"I won't. I just think it would be hilarious. I bet at least one would vomit from fright. And a ten-course meal, Briar?" he grins, exposing a white flash of teeth, "How extravagant."

"It's just dessert after this," Alexa responds. "I've been counting."

"Have you, little lady? Anyway, I need to go. The ladies beckon. Give me a kiss, Steven," and before he can protest, Stavros grabs his face and kisses him, running a tongue along his bottom lip. Steven immediately wipes his mouth with a napkin. "You too, little lady." Her kiss is much more decent, bordering on innocent. "Ciao."

"Steven, your Pieces are weirdos," Alexa continues to eat, "just like you."

"Doesn't that bother you?" Steven inquires, still wiping his mouth.

"Is it supposed to? It's just like family, right?"

Steven glances at me. I sigh and in one movement, cover her ears. She starts in surprise.

"It's hard to find the full limitations and boundaries of what physical contact she allows when family is involved, but it seems almost up to and including pseduo-sexual activities. I think we all know who's to blame for that. But because of that person, she has no defined standard of a relationship besides familial ones, which makes all actions committed by non-family members uncomfortable. On the other hand, significant friends are included as family, which is the reason that our entire team can be so friendly with her. In this case, she most definitely considers Stavros to be family since she allowed him to kiss her. You must also be family, because kissing her on the cheek doesn't elicit a negative response from her. On the other hand, what you did yesterday," here, I stop my rapid discourse to glare at Steven, "can be taken as past the point of pseudo-sexuality and into the waters of sexuality, which she is uncomfortable with, also because of that person."

She twists out of my grip, scowling.

"I hate it when you do that," she snarls.

"Sorry, Baby Girl. Grown-ups needed to talk."

Steven nods and leans back.

"You're ridiculously clever, aren't you?"

I shrug.

"Not really. I think analytically, as you said before. I don't really do morals."

Dessert comes. Waldorf pudding, peaches in chartreuse jelly, chocolate and vanilla eclairs, and ice cream. She just takes the ice cream and one eclair.

We leave early, much to the disappointment of many people.

"Are you drunk, Steven?" she asks when we step into the night, as he had been ordering one alcoholic beverage after another.

"Maybe a little." He smiles when she slips her hand into his. "Did you have a good time?"

"Food is always a good time. Torrent's going to be so jealous."

The walk to the Piece Center is quiet. Somewhere in the mountains, a wild Piece howls in undulating ribbons of sound. Stavros enters the building immediately, but Steven sits on the grass outside.

"Look," Steven says, pointing at the sky. It is littered with shining points of light, that pulse to their own music. "Sometimes, the entire night sky is captured in a stone that fits in the palm of your hand."

"You're drunk." Alexa sits next to him.

"Maybe a little," he repeats, pulling out a cigarette. He offers one to me, and I take it.

"Isn't that bad for you, Briar?"

"My body will flush it out almost immediately. Don't worry."

My thoughts are fixated on the scar that connects both of them together. Steven says he doesn't know Alexa's older brother.

Then again, Steven is a liar.

She shifts so that her head is in his lap, raven hair spilling over small shoulders. His hand hesitates, and then drops on her head, tracing the lines of her hair.

"A little cat," I whisper, and Steven smiles, smoke spilling into the sky.