The clock's shorthand struck its third quarter, and the world felt still in that moment. The moon's reflection sat in the middle of the ice-sheet mirror as a gentle breeze shook the foliage and edges of my maroon coat in the shadowed backdrop. My eyes followed a chrome vehicle that steadily escaped my grasp, the sounds of its rubber on frost-seeped asphalt and the whir of its engine becoming fainter with each surreally passing second. I raised my hand, the cold air rubbing against it with a bittersweet sting as I gently waved a farewell without particular reason or belief that the pair would see it.
But it just felt right.
The car made a turn, going behind one of the concrete pillars whose lights were dimmed and stood indistinguishably with its towering siblings that composed the metropolitan rampart. I lowered my hand and soon followed a feeling that had risen from a pit in my stomach, up towards the brace of my chest, and welled in my throat to be released—to be spoken before it once again returned to its quiet chamber where it would remain restlessly stirring.
But that was fine.
At least for now, it is.
"I think this calls for a job well done, don't you think?" I steeled myself, putting on the airs of a content but fatigued expression.
"For what it's worth, it's good enough." My partner added, a blend of exasperation and repose in her cold tone.
"I take it that you didn't have much trouble once I was gone?"
"Once I calmed Fable down, I managed to explain the situation to the staff, who communicated the sentiment to the other guests. They accepted the apology, but it was still a rather awkward mess."
"Aww, I missed the chance to see a flustered Myla?" I teased, leaning in as the ambient temperature dropped even lower, "I almost wish I didn't excuse myself. What a shame."
"Zip it." I could feel a light pressure flick onto the back of my head, earning a joking wince of pain and a chuckle from me before we turned and stepped towards the parked car.
I pulled the frigid handle, setting myself within the warmth of the mechanical confines as it hummed to life, lights bathing the front and music enveloping the inside. I adjusted the seat so I could rest, inhaling my first unbothered breath in the past hour as I stared up at the fabric headliner of the modern carriage with a vacant gaze.
I could hear the gear shift and the turn signal flick beside me, "How about on your end?" Myla asked, turning the wheel as her mechanical horse obeyed and, in no time, were amidst seas of asphalt again.
I thought for a moment about my reply. How would I condense...Well, all of that into something concise and sensible? I guess it didn't have to be. It was just me and Gale venting to one another and finding comfort in our mutual struggles, even if I did go a little overboard with my own emotional unloading. It really wasn't all too complicated—my memory was only muddled by the thoughts that went awry during our chat.
It was probably starting to show on my face, something between nostalgic and downcast, so I swallowed my reservations and spoke the first thing that came to mind, "As you said, good enough."
"Really? Nothing to elaborate on?" Her query followed an intrigued hmm as one of her eyes landed on me with a brow raised.
"Yeah, nothing of note to report, ma'am." Even as I brushed concern off with satire, I could feel her uneasy curiosity continue to bead me as she drove.
I already told Gale earlier following his childish question—but Myla and I worked best as colleagues—partners in crime and law and occasionally swimming in the territory of a good friend I could banter with and confide a few personal thoughts and random idiosyncrasies. I preferred not to trouble her with myself as she did her best to grant me the same favor.
Well, for the most part. From time to time, she still purposely acts like a pain in the ass.
I had to be professional, even if a personal promise was what woke me up each morning to go to work. I did it not only out of respect as an associate but as someone who genuinely admired her work ethic and tactfulness.
The car was silent for a few turns, the flicker of the streetlights and the seemingly endless embrace of the moon guiding our way through the labyrinth of concrete and glass spires. I crossed my arms, feeling my eyelids heavy as I began to drift out of consciousness.
That was until an icy pin pricked my ears, "I just remembered something."
"What is it?" I asked, eyes still closed.
"I was planning to buy a book tonight. Do you want to come with me?"
My earlier fatigue was washed with surprise, eyes unconsciously widening as I slowly sat up and turned to her, "Well, that's random. Why the sudden invite?"
"No particular reason." She responded, with a brief pause for thought and a quickly following clarification, "We're already out, and I wondered if you might be looking for something as well."
I could feel my lips curve slightly, hiding the full extent of my endearment, "It's a rarity for you to ask. It'd be a waste to decline." I answered, pulling my backrest up to meet her eyes with my cheeky turn of face, "To what do I owe the misfortune of being asked out tonight, Miss Marika?"
"Just say yes, or I'm dragging you there by the collar." My dear partner grumbled, eyeing me with discontentment.
"Alright, alright. Set the sail for the commercial district, cap'n." But truth be told, I wasn't against the idea—in reality, I was pretty happy with it.
And so our drive continued, setting sight for a new destination as time passed in the wintry city of lights.
The addictive fragrance of wood and ink flooded my nose as I flipped through the pages of the novel and returned it to the shelves. To my front stood a towering phalanx of mystery novels of mute beiges and browns. Flanking me was the platoon of classics—their defense comprising light paperbacks to the vanguard and hefty hardbound tomes in the rear. If I wasn't careful, I'd surely be pincered by the last force to my left, the praetorian guard of cheesy romance comedies with rose petal covers and sweet-as-candy titles. The literary battlefield was rife with conflict even at night, and I had to keep my wits about me lest I drown in the prose of-
"I'll be paying for these now, so could you stop spacing out?" Myla drew my attention away from my childish fun, seeing her carrying a stack of books atop her slender hands, "Or are you actually looking around for something?" She added rather doubtfully.
"Kind of. I'm just inhaling the drug-like fumes over here," I added with a thumbs up and a dubious grin, eliciting no less than complete disappointment from my partner, who promptly left with books and regrets in hand.
I stood alone between the barricades of dialogue and exposition, wearily scanning the titles and synopses without paying much heed to the actual content, akin to a child at a supermarket reading the nutritional labels while waiting for their mother to finish at the check-out lane.
At the very least, it's better than that anxiety you get when you're next in line, but your mom is still on her journey for that stupid loaf of whole wheat nobody even eats.
Traumatic tangents aside, it had been some time since our last after-hours visit to the mall—but our purpose remained the same; the acquisition of Myla's paperbound pastime.
Most lights had been dimmed, and few stores remained open, with the bookstore being one of the scarce purveyors of goods in the commercial citadel left standing. Most of the people had already vacated, though, for some odd reason, plenty of cars remained in parking even as the mall's halls became a devoid void of the black-blank blanketing shadow of a lightless night with less sight and more plight.
Pedantism is a disease, and the only cure is brain-rotting media. Time to hop on a social media site!
Modern traumatic tangents aside, as much as I enjoyed the late-night outing, it was peculiar having the usually disinterested Myla thrust an invite onto me without so much as an earlier hint and with quite the blatant insistence. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the sentiment and would have accepted the offer more times than not, but it really did itch in the back of my head as it left me puzzled. Perhaps she believed I was still feeling down after earlier? I had to admit, I wasn't exactly in tip-top shape, but that was far from an excuse for her to go out of her way and burn moonlight on a random adventure to cheer me up. Still, the idea of teasing her for being so thoughtful was beyond tempting, but for now, I'd rather not spoil the rare mood of the gelid queen.
However, looking at her now, you'd find such a description rather unbefitting. Her silver waves rested upon an olive-green background, and her pale skin was adorned with rose glow and bronze and gold luster bathed in the lamplight that matched the gems of her optics. She looked far from cold as a strange warmth radiated from her quiet existence.
However, right then and there, the painting came to life and turned, coattails riding her unintentional flourish. She walked towards me with the books rustling in the paper bag as her light steps trailed toward me.
"Welcome back." I greeted as she sank her hand into the bag, "You got everything you wanted, or do we-" But before I could finish, my view was suddenly obstructed by a deep, chestnut brown coated in a translucent and reflective film.
I held the object, its cover smooth and fitting well in the palm of my hand, "What's this for?" I asked my partner as I raised the paperback to my eyes, reading the calligraphic title and accompanying comments and reviews on the front cover.
Why are so many books called X's bestsellers? How many bestsellers can you have until they just become average sellers?
"It's a novella—a mystery one, to be exact," Myla answered an unnecessary query, leaving me no more informed than before she spoke.
"If the detective in this is as good as you at finding details, I think the murder won't be solved for a few dozen volumes."
"If I get to be the detective, I hope you're okay with being the murder victim." She shot back, matching my heckling tit for tat.
"I can already see the twist. Was it the detective who carried out the killing?"
She stared at me, blinking a few times with false astonishment, "...How did you know?"
I snickered, about to hand her the item back when she gently pushed it away and to me, "I've been looking for the chance to recommend it to you, but I always manage to forget to bring it, so..." A brief stutter in her words, organizing the rest of her purchases in the brown bag, "Perhaps it'd be better to just buy you a separate copy, no?" She looked at me with an inscrutable expression—an emotion I couldn't quite pin down but nevertheless left me grateful.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
"That's great and all, but are you sure? I don't mind paying you back."
"Yes, don't pay it mind nor money." A simple, short, sweet assurance received, she turned to the door and began leading our exit.
"Thanks." I promptly followed the click and clack of her footfalls on the wood panel floor, book, and smile carried by my saunter, "I'll try to sneak in a few pages whenever I have the time." It was hard to tell with only her back facing me—but even from this angle, I could see the subtle movement of her cheeks that denoted a tiny but well-remembered smile was now on her snow-white face.
"That's good. I think you'll enjoy the characters." She added, now waiting by the door.
I joined her, holding it open, "I'll look forward to it."
But right before she exited, she left one last remark to ruin the moment, "You better have it fully read by next week, then." And before a protest could be spoken, she was already gone, and I could once again only leave myself at the behest of her strange whims.
I exited the store, the light now only on my back as, instead, shadows engulfed the space we stepped into. The sunroof above let some pockets of moonlight in, but most corners were enveloped in dark that was hard to pierce with sight alone. As expected, no one else was on our floor, and it was easy to assume the same could be said for every other level, as the place was eerily liminal.
Well, if it wasn't for the dancing radiance that flared to life in front of us.
"Oh, so the night market's still open, huh?" I turned to my partner, whose amber eyes reflected the tiniest sparks of the outside flame intently.
"A night market is open at night. Quite the observation, Detective Blaithe." She looked back at me, an expression that held no letters but somehow spelled out "now-who's-the-crappy-investigator-huh" before returning her focus to the large window where the lights flared.
...Does she want to go?
I observed her for another second before actualizing my curiosity, "Do you wanna check it out?"
She recomposed herself, tilting her head at me and adjusting an ashen lock to her ear, "I wouldn't mind, but keeping you any longer than I have would be bothersome." Walking towards the now-static escalator, she readied to leave, "Perhaps some other time."
But it felt unfair to leave it at that, "It's fine, actually." She stopped, slowly facing me, "Think of it as thanks for the book, and besides, it's not like anyone's waiting for me at home, right?" I spoke sarcastically but realized too late the implications of my tongue.
Ah, shoot.
Self-deprecating humor was a staple of the Blaithe Comedy Routine, but doing so right after I reassured her about my condition was quite a miscalculation on my part. The way I said it was in an unserious manner, but she could still misinterpret it. The last thing I wanted was to make her think she had to do any more—or even anything at all to help lift my spirits.
Even if she's not exactly wrong in assuming that this does make me feel a little better.
I was about to throw out a frantic excuse when my eyes refocused, and I saw not unease but amusement underscored by a roguish smirk, "What are you going on about? Boasting about something so depressing." She leaned in close, her knightly exterior melting from the warm aura accompanying her reply, "Come on then, let's go." She motioned with her hand before making her way back to the escalator, leaving me with a mental image that made a fuzzy feeling well in my heart that had just skipped on a few beats.
This is why staying up late at my age is ill-advised...
"Plus, I want a candy apple." She remarked as she disappeared down the steps.
"That's quite the peculiar request, and here I thought you were already full from earlier?"
"Is it illegal for me to have a sweet tooth?"
"Alright, alright. We'll look for a stall." And I could only follow.
We exited through the automated doors of the complex—and we were immediately bathed in the vermillion hue of the dozens of tents and stalls that shone like a ball of fire in the night—the scene almost fooling me into believing it was actually warm if not for the winter wind that greeted our exit. As we made our approach, the stir of the nightlife could be heard traveling along the contrasting rays and breezes. A hustle here and a bustle there, sounds of cheering, murmured chatting, and enthusiastic sellers filled the expanse as if the notion of twilight was unknown to the visitors.
"I remember telling Keith about this," I commented, yawning with a hand to my mouth and the other carrying a bag of books as Myla took the lead.
"When you were discussing date locations for Amanda, right?" She replied, unable to resist the urge to mimic me as a dainty hand was now to her lips, "I still vividly recall you crawling back to me for help."
"When you phrase it that way, it really goes to show how important intent is when you help someone. But, to be fair, him deciding against it was for the better in the long run." I added as we passed through the archway entrance of the market, now surrounded by propped-up tents of all colors yet uniformly dyed a honey orange, scents of fried foods and delectable sweets riding the dry air, and the restless menagerie of indistinguishable vocalizations all left the space feeling electrified, "They really have done quite well for themselves, huh?" And though I doubted the latter half would be heard, I spoke in a somber tone that had a snowball's chance in hell of sounding through the noise.
Well, before that, I had to contend with the sudden roadblock in front of me. Myla came to a stop without saying a word, nearly colliding with her if not for the brush of her hair, alerting me to her sudden proximity as the crowd snaked around us like a river to a rock.
Oops, did she actually hear me through all of...this?
I paused, a slight tension as her gaze remained forward and expression indistinguishable.
"Bridger." She spoke, temperature and tone low as can be.
"Yeah?"
She raised her arm, forefinger straight as an arrow, "The candied apples are over there."
I looked over her shoulder, higher than usual, as she stood at my level above white oak heels, "Ooh, you're right. Good eye, partner." I beamed at the sight, but what I didn't account for was the sudden turn of my companion as her face felt close enough for her eyelashes to caress me, an equal delight present on her countenance as we both had our eyes on something sweet.
The apples, the apples, the apples, the apples, the apples, the apples, the apples, the apples, the-
She quickly resumed her march and left me positively startled, so I resigned myself to do the same as I followed with a still-spinning mind. The shopkeeper was a man who looked to be around his forties, a loose pleated jacket of blues and blacks upon his person as a beanie stood atop his head along the puffs of smoke that came from his grill. He seemed to serve an assortment of snacks, from skewers to wraps and even corndogs and sandwiches. Despite the gustatory variety on display, our collective attention remained loyal to the glistening red of the glassy fruit that sat upturned and practically awaiting our grasp.
"Welcome, you two!" He cheered in a gravelly but upbeat voice, "I'll take a wild guess and say it'll be two of those apples, eh?"
"Your keenness is appreciated," Myla replied, taking out her wallet from her purse as the seller picked up a pair of the treats by the sticks.
I did the same, using my free hand to navigate my pockets to foot my end of the bill. I managed to get it out with some effort and even unbutton it before coming to the realization both hands were now occupied and none present to tend to the affair of actually taking money out to pay for the thing.
If only I had an oddly dextrous tongue, this would be far easier. Also, before you have any weird qualms, that's like, in the middle of the list of strange things you could do with a body part like that.
Myla drew closer with both apples in hand, tilting her head at me as I stood like an idiot without thumbs or indexes to spare, "I'll, uhm, pay you back later. Sorry."
She recentered her face, letting mercury waves follow the motion, "It's fine. I was the one who brought you here anyway."
I decided against further protest, only shrugging with a soundless laugh, "Give me a moment to organize myself and-" But before my mouth could move to utter another word, it was filled with an intense sweetness that was painfully underscored by a tooth-chipping hardness.
I took a bite, crushing the outer layer of sugar and biting into the tender flesh of the apple as a mixture of sweetness and a light tart juice flooded my tastebuds as I began to chew the morsel that had so suddenly found itself buried into my incisors.
And now, some syrup just got stuck between my teeth. Great.
I swallowed the bite, admittedly pleased with the flavor even if it was ninety percent sugar, "At the very least, warn me before doing that." I complained as my partner looked rather proud of her sneak attack, matching me as both of her hands held the red orbs as if to imitate a lackluster Christmas tree.
"What? I'll have you know food tastes better this way." She interjected with a cult leader-like sense of advertising in her explanation.
I sighed, unsure of how to take her random belief that was said with such assurance, "Well.." I couldn't reply, seeing as from what I could tell after the unprompted bite, it more than likely tasted the exact same.
And it seemed she knew this as well.
She offered it again, raising the fruit near my face as its sugary scent wafted into my nostrils, and its sheen sparkled like an invitation.
I guess that's one way to confirm it.
I hesitated for a moment, her awaiting stare quietly encouraging me as I became a tad self-conscious. After resolving myself, I took another bite and, this time, let some time pass so as to see if it really did have an effect on the flavor. It would have been easy to determine at this point, seeing as the test was performed with a far more controlled procedure.
If not for the extraneous variable that was my partner taking a bite out of her own piece, the tiny lapse of joy that flashed across her face like a drop of sugar as I continued to chew.
...Alright, point made.
I returned my wallet to its proper place, taking the apple from her as we enjoyed the tastes and sights of the market. It really was rather relaxing despite the crowds and the growing weight of fatigue that found itself on my shoulders. It felt rather nice. Just as a calm precedes a storm, it also follows it. The world felt even quieter now than it had been back at the Tre Venti, even if, in reality, it was anything but. In the end, perhaps she had a point. Just as food does, the richness and depth of kindness could only be fully appreciated when it was offered to you with a smile.
"It's been a while, you know?" I began, having finished the snack with tired jaw muscles and a sweet tooth more than satisfied, "Since I did anything like this." We were both leaning on the table of the stall, being mindful not to tip anything over.
"Are you having fun?" Myla asked, prompting me to turn to her.
Her eyes faced me, an amber-orange purer than anything the lamplight could provide, "Surprisingly, yes."
"And what's that surprisingly supposed to mean?" Furrowed brows came with the query.
"It means tolerating each other has somehow yielded some kind of masochistic jubilation."
"As long as you're happy." And indeed I was.
We stood for a little while longer until Myla straightened her posture and ambled forward, "I spotted a few things while looking around. Do you mind?"
"I'll take a breather, so you go on ahead. I'll be waiting here till you get back." She nodded, mingling with the crowd but remaining distinct in my sight as her figure moved to a nearby stall of colorful and fresh produce.
"And off she goes." I could hear a gruff voice from behind me, the sounds of sizzling accenting his accent, "You two sure are a flirtatious bunch. But I've got nothing against a cute couple." My eyes met his, one pair enthusiastic, the other apprehensive.
"Sorry to burst the bubble, but we're just coworkers." I corrected, seeing not an ounce of contentment drop from his expression.
"Really? I reckon you two make a good match from the looks-o' things."
"I doubt it." But no matter the objection, he only laughed it off.
I saw no point in furthering that, so I changed the subject, "By the way, there's a lot of people out tonight, isn't there?"
His forehead wrinkled, and an eyebrow climbed to touch the edge of his beanie, "Oh? You didn't know? There'll be a fireworks show in a few minutes, so people came in droves to see it." I didn't reply, but my puzzled look was more than enough of an answer, "Well, it'll be plenty more crowded soon, so do take care." I acknowledged it, seeing as more and more bodies did seem to pass through the main entrance.
"Alright. Thanks for the apples and advice. Best get to moving then-"
"Ah, actually, before that." I paused, letting him continue as he took a few skewers off the grill and onto the table, "I might just know of a little spot you and your not-girlfriend can check out." To that end, I returned to him, my ears focused on his words even as countless other voices filled the air and nearly muted his directions.
I took note of the path he laid out, his explanation one filled with joy emanating from a simple smile, "...So just take the path near the parking lot, and it should be a straight shot from there. I hope it works out for the both of you."
"I'll keep it in mind. Best of luck with the night." I bid farewell, hearing one last faint exclamation that was drowned out by the voices of those who began to surround me as I made my way to my partner.
"With some luck, you'll graduate from that relationship of yours!" A boisterous laugh followed something I could not quite make out.
By fortunate chance, right as I made my way to her, Myla turned with a bag of vegetables cradled, stalks of green and plump fruits peeking from the container. She held it with both arms, prompting me to offer an assist as we swapped items, and she now carried her books close—an earthy and fresh scent wrapping itself around me.
"Shall we head back?" She asked with a gentle look.
"About that," I began, earning a curious hmm, "Let's head to the car and drop this off first. There's a spot I'd like to check out." Puzzled as she was, our adventure continued, leading us hither past the crowds and tither through the parking lot.