Small talk was never one of Shadow's strengths. Socialization was always a weakness of his, but corporate conversation especially. He had an aversion to public events, and being surrounded by crowds was something he dreaded. For the entire first half of the rooftop garden party, he tugged at his collar under the humming string lights. He studied the ostentatious decor with laser-focus, and couldn't help but feel out of his element.

Shadow's eyes glazed over as the authors droned on with corporate lingo. Amy, suspecting this, excused them both. She led Shadow by the buffet, stuffing a chocolate strawberry into her cheek and clinging to his arm for balance. She couldn't help from wobble at the discomfort from her monster heels.

"An advance is the money you get after signing a contract. Royalties are the money you get after releasing the book. Q.P. Doppler is a hack writer and we don't like him. Goldleaf is a publisher that went bankrupt last year and we're sad." She quickly summarized, barely looking up as she went for another hors d'oeuvre.

Shadow mumbled to himself, trying to replay the conversation in his head with the definitions he had gotten, only to draw a blank on the answer. Amy squeezed his arm a little tighter, wobbling as they went.

"You don't have to memorize everything. It's not too hard to predict how they'll react." She laughed. It was true. In each circle, the guests seem to react to every comment in unison. Shadow suddenly felt stupid for trying to pay attention.

"I thought I knew about books. I guess I had my head under a rock this whole time." Shadow sighed.

"Oh no, you know plenty about it. Or at least about literature. Publishing is a whole other side of things…" she trailed off, eyeing the ground, "Honestly, you'd probably be happier never getting into it. Business jargon takes the magic out of everything." Amy said, a hint of sadness in her tone but an ounce of flair in her hand gestures. Shadow couldn't tell if it was the monster heels or the harsh light, but she continued to look more and more miserable as the night continued. Before he could think any longer, the authors were called to the stage.

Amy patted Shadow's arm and released him. As she found her footing, she successfully made her way to the staircase leading up to the stage. She eyed them unsurely, looked at Shadow, and flashed the most pitiful doe-eyes he had ever seen. Rolling his own eyes, he went to her side and took her hand, leading her up the staircase like a true gentleman. He silently admitted he was proud she at least made it that far.

Soon, Shadow sat in his assigned seat, unsure of what to do with the tiny scrap of paper with his name written in gold calligraphy. The entire party looked like a catalog, adorned with DIY decor and pricey food. The contrast of sauteed medium-well steak sitting in cheap, crinkly aluminum pans was odd. The golden rails which curved elegantly into an arch over the makeshift stage looked spray-painted. The faux-silk tablecloth felt like plastic between one's fingers. It was all feigned regality.

Amy strode as best she could onto the stage with a small stack of paper in her hands. Shadow felt at ease in that moment, knowing that Amy could be herself there. Every other time they had gone out, she hid the woman he adored behind a shell. Her smile, her movements, her voice, all fabricated. Here, she finally seemed relaxed.

After the presentation was over, Shadow found him and Amy separated once more. He hung back by the buffet table as he waited for Amy to finish shaking hands with a circle of corporates. At some point, a bobcat slid his way up next to him and began having his go at the hand-sized snack. He stuffed a couple of crackers and a slice of cheese into his lips before meeting Shadow's eyes. Eventually, he wiped off his hand with a handkerchief kept in his pocket and extended it to Shadow.

"Doppler. A pleasure to meet you." He greeted. Shadow took his hand courteously. Doppler. Where had he heard that?

The hack author.

Well, Shadow was never one to be rude, regardless of rumors. Not that he didn't believe Amy, but he couldn't ignore the guy in his face.

"Shadow." He responded, despite his nerves.

"Are you in the publishing scene? You seem like the literary type," said Doppler.

"Oh, no. I'm a reader. I'm just here as a plus one," said Shadow, trying not to sound too uninviting.

"Ah, so what do you do?"

Crap. Shadow felt like he had somehow caught him. What could he tell him? That he got fired for his awful coffee? He didn't want to embarrass himself or Amy. So, he figured he might as well daydream a little.

"Bio-med. Finishing up my doctorate at Station Square Uni." He said, cautiously. It felt appropriate, as he knew that's where he would be right now, anyway. And it wasn't a total lie, either. He got into the school once, at least.

"Excellent, excellent. Enjoying the crowd?" Doppler asked again.

"Eh, as much as I can. I feel a bit out of my depth here, you know? I wouldn't mind a quick overview of the faces here." Shadow admitted, now feeling comfortable. He understood why Amy felt this was so important. The people there were friendly. It must be nice to be seen as a person rather than a target.

"Well, allow me to summarize. That's Quippler, he does biopics. Have you read 'The Silent One?' about the juryman?" Doppler asked.

"Oh, I remember starting that, but I still haven't gotten through it," Shadow replied.

"Pick it up when you have the chance. The guy is a champ. That guy there is K. Ramiro, he does mysteries. Kind of basic, but well-written. Kacey Gardens just won an award at the annual..."

Shadow couldn't help but feel his curiosity piqued. He gestured over to where Amy was standing on stage and asked, "What about the pink hedgehog who spoke earlier? Is she any good?"

"Oh, that was Amy Rose, a grade-A bitch." Doppler joked.

Shadow dropped his cup. "Hm?"

"Whoops, hold on there, man. Yeah, she does fantasy novels or whatever, but I've read them and they are some of the most surface-level crap I've read. She only has a fanbase because a bunch of hormonal freaks can't keep it in their pants, so she baits them by dressing like a slut. So yeah, I'd stay away from her if I were you. She's a mockery to the art form, to be honest-" Doppler continued, but got cut off.

"I'll be right back," Shadow interrupted as he hustled away without further explanation.

If he stood there and listened to Doppler's bullshit for a second longer, he would have bludgeoned his skull with the leg of the buffet table.

Amy was in a circle of other authors when Shadow finally found her. He could see her smiling and nodding politely, but the conversation he heard struck him still.

"Really sweetheart, I don't mean to be rude, I just think that you would fit better in a separate line of work. Perhaps modeling? Your series is good, I assure you, but until you put as much energy into your work as you do sporting your little skirts, this just isn't the place for you," said a man who looked nearing his 70s.

"Amy?" Shadow said, cutting through the conversation like a blade. His face was a mixture of confusion, frustration, and disgust.

"Oh, um hi, Shadow. Don, meet Shadow. Shadow, Don." Amy greeted, gesturing between them. For a moment, she almost looked unfazed, but Shadow always saw the cracks in her armor even better than he could on his own.

"Is this your agent?" He asked.

"No…" Amy admitted, somewhat embarrassed. "…he's the one hosting the event." She knew what he heard. She knew how he would feel.

She never felt smothered by Shadow's protectiveness. It's what drew her to him. She would tear up the entire party along with him if she could. They would fight side by side. But this wasn't his battle. She couldn't keep dragging him further into her problems.

Shadow was furious. He already saw the ugliness of the ones following her, now he knew it ran down to the core of her career. She didn't belong here.

"Could you excuse us?" He asked as he took Amy's arm. She let him, although she had somehow lost her footing on the way there, tripping 3 or 4 times. Despite his intent on leaving, he couldn't help but be patient and let her regain herself each time. Before they went through the back gate into an alley, Shadow locked eyes once again with Doppler, who cast him a pale, nervous look at the sight of Amy on his arm.

"Shadow, I understand you're worried, but-" Amy began, only to be interrupted.

"Is there anyone in this city who's not out to get you?" Shadow asked simply, turning back toward her. The question struck Amy silent. She thought for a moment.

"You, I guess." She said, shrugging. Her face was a picture of constructed innocence.

Biting back the impulse to melt at her words, Shadow set his hands on her shoulders.

"Listen, I know you said you can handle yourself, and I believe you can. But I can't just sit here and watch you let yourself get all this bullshit hurled at you," Shadow explained.

"Shadow, this is my job. This is just what's necessary for me to get ahead. I told you, I'm not a normal author." She brushed his hands off and held her arms in her own. Shadow lifted her chin, leveling their gazes toward one another.

"You're right, this isn't normal! Nobody else out there has to do what you're doing. Nobody else's agents are forcing them to be something they aren't. Your writing is enough to get you way farther than anyone else in that crowd. And yet you're letting yourself get isolated and humiliated. This isn't you." He pleaded, a tone of urgency clear in his voice.

Amy looked down at her hands, then past them to her skirt, then the monster heels. Shadow sighed, sat on a crate, and looked at the ground. He meant what he said, but…

"I'm sorry. That was maybe too harsh. You- you know best. It's just hard. I care about you, and I hate seeing you hurt," Shadow admitted. Amy put on a sad smile and shook her head.

"It doesn't hurt me anymore." She lied. Now it was Shadow's turn to shake his head.

"Don't lie. I know it does," he said, sternly. He was right. Amy looked up at him, a genuine frown clear as day.

"How can I make it up to you?" she asked, reaching for his hand. He took it.

"It's not about making it up to me. I'm fine. How are you going to make it up to yourself?"

Amy thought long and hard. Suddenly her skirt felt heavier, her shoes tighter, her blisters more strangled, her makeup caked on. She felt like a clown. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than for Shadow to carry her far away.

"Then I want to leave. And… you're coming with me," she said as she walked back through the gate, extending a hand back to her friend.

"Sounds like a plan," Shadow answered.

They didn't say goodbye. Amy confirmed she didn't want to. Shadow was happy to do no such thing. They headed straight for the exit.

On the stairway back down, Amy trailed behind, struggling to climb down.

"I can do it! It's fine! Go!" she whined. Shadow shrugged and went ahead of her a few steps, only to feel a great weight crash into his shoulders.

"I hate these shoes," Amy groaned, leaning against his back. At least Shadow was there to break her fall as she tripped on her clown shoes.

"You know what? That's fair, I… I could… um," Shadow stammered.

"What?"

"Want me to carry you?" Shadow asked, his face glowing a pale pink.

Amy smiled and clambered onto his back as he hooked his arms beneath her knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck, shrouding him in warmth, as he casually walked down the stairs. Despite her weighing next to nothing for him, he couldn't help but feel his arms shaking.

"I haven't had a piggyback ride in ages." Amy teased.

"Hah."

He walked a few blocks with her on his back, laughing through the strange looks he got from people in the street. She knew she would hear worse online later. Neither could bring themself to care.

"Wanna grab a drink?" he asked. Amy smiled.

"I'd love to."

Amy unhooked the buckles of her heels and casually dropped them in a dumpster, leaving them for dead. Good riddance.