I hope that was the right move… I think, snatching up a newspaper from this morning, remembering how I gave Jyrasck his letter yesterday. Fareed was brewing coffee with a zombie-like exhaustion. Mist was slumped across a booth table while Cana was complaining about when her pancakes would be ready.
“I’m hungryy…” she whines.
“And I’m tired, give me a minute kid,” Fareed quips.
“But—”
“But give me a damned minute,” the bartender growls in a “I need coffee to stay sane” way. Which I can understand clear as day.
“Stand down, Fareed the Feral,” I hear Jyrasck say upon entry. To which Fareed starts knives into the maroon-haired male. Jyrasck holds his hands up in a theatrical fashion, “woah. Calm down and drink your coffee, mkay?”
Fareed clicks his tongue sourly in response, snagging a mug and jabbing it down on the counter with a huff.
Jyrasck sighs as he sits down, “nice ring. Where’d it come from?” I ask.
“I found it.” His response was quick with even faster closure.
“Nice,” I answer, turning the page of my newspaper before groaning in displeasure.
“What happened?” Cana chirps.
“Another murder, woof.” I lean back a little to allow her to see, Jyrasck looks as well.
“And it’s near here too…” Jyrasck adds.
“Poor Jake Ta-hompson,” Cana sighs. “Fareeed—”
“Patience, it’s almost ready.” Fareed snaps with another swig of coffee.
Jyrasck snatches up the paper, reading intently on the article of Jake Thompson before casting it aside in my direction with an irritable “tsk”.
Fareed places a plate of pancakes in front of Cana and slides me a mug of coffee, “what do you four plan on doing today?”
“I’m interested in these weird reports, but Imma sit on it,” Jyrasck says, tapping his nails on the counter. He looks at his hands for a moment, staring at his new accessory. “I also want to buy some things.”
Mist, who is now at the bar area with us, perks up. “I’m interested as well. If you’re going to do that I wanna come.”
“I feel like visiting my mom again, maybe I can teach the others how’ta read,” Cana pipes up as she carries a piece of pancake closer to her maw.
“I guess I’d go with her then.” I shrug, placing my now drained mug of coffee down.
“It’s starting to concern me, just what is he doing so late at night?” Amara runs a hand through her pale blonde hair.
“If he wasn’t built like a tank I’d tell you to just not allow outings past nightfall,” I motion with my pen in hand.
She sighs, “at least they aren’t trying anything too crazy. And I’m glad you and CAna dropped by. Now I don’t have to sit in an awkward silence,” Amara chuckles.
“She wanted to come teach the others how to read and whatnot, I didn’t want to risk her getting lost.”
“Mm…” she nods. “When I first realized that… y’know, Cana’s my kid, I was worried she’d hate me for allowing her to be forced into the Lab System.”
“In the five-six weeks I’ve known Cana, she’s never hated much of anything,” I reply in a (hopefully) comforting way.
“Wow, your group has been together for a while then. Is it like a constant double date wherever you—”
“Double date? No, definitely not. Plus I don’t think anyone thinks of each other above family.”
Amara quirks an eyebrow before the curly haired Tested kid walks up, “what’re we gonna have for lunch?”
“Either grilled cheese or fend for yourselves,” the pale blonde puts her hands on the counter, using them to rise from her seat.
The boy pouts, “we had that yesterday…”
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“I could put some ham or something in it as well, Sam,” Amara ruffles his hair as his pout turns into a smile.
“Can I help make them?”
“Sure, bud.”
I walk over to Cana’s classroom, spectating as she explains why ‘th’ sounds like so. “BL, CH, TH, CK, they just sound like that when combined. I dunno why though.”
“I dunno either and I learned to read sixteen years ago,” I comment.
“Wow, you’re old,” the burgundy haired male says bluntly.
“Correction: I’m experienced, and ‘old’ identifies sixty-five year olds and above. I am twenty-one.”
“You’re still old.” He jibes.
“Antadon, detention!” Cana jabs a finger toward the male. Antadon groans, how do they know that detention is?
Knives was looking at words on a sheet of paper, Cana quickly snatches it up. “Imma teach you your names now.”
She scribbles “N” before turning to me, I sigh and lean down to write their names. After doing so, Cana proudly grins and turns the paper towards the boys.
“That’s ‘Antadon’ and ‘Knives’ — you have good handwriting Ross.” She chirrups.
“It’d be nicer if I tried harder,” I shrug and wave for them to continue before Sam calls for lunch. The three (mainly Antadon) spring up and go to eat while I walk gingerly behind.
After eating, Cana dismisses her class and we head back to the Yoliho Inn.
“Being the smart person is hard…” she grumbles.
“How do you think I feel?” I say sarcastically.
Cana glances at me for a moment, “I dunno. Tired?”
“The short answer is yes, the long answer is a rant until we’re back at the Yoliho Inn.”
“Could I always get the short answers?”
“I’ll try.”
----------------------------------------
“Could I get that chain?” I point to a necklace with a teardrop shaped gem that shifted independently of the small link necklace.
“That’ll be ten gold,” the vendor orders.
“Drop it to five,” I command.
“Nine gold.”
“No way in hell this is worth ten gold.” Mist spat, looking at the necklace.
“IT is chain link, that means someone took their time and effort into crafting each and every single tiny link by hand.” The vendor explains, “nine gold.”
“None of this looks relatively ‘by hand.’ If it was, each link wouldn’t be identical to one another.”
“Maybe the forger was an expert, now as I was—”
“It’s molded. And even the gem holster was molded. If anything, it might be four or three.”
I see the vendor’s skin start to glitter with sweat slightly, “even if, the gem is a pure, hand-cut—-”
“Hand-painted is more like it, if you want to get at least something out of it, you’ll sell it for three gold.” Mist locks eyes with the vendor, who was now sweating profusely.
“F-fine, three gold.” I hand him just that and lift the necklace carefully off the table.
We walk for a while after that, “. . . is it actually fake?”
“All except the gem.”
“... Are you sure you don’t want anything for yourself?” I question.
Mist, who started staring into the distance, replies, “no.”
I quizzically raised an eyebrow.
“I’m positive.”
We keep walking down the store front, I start to keep a close eye on whatever Mist is looking at. No way a kid this age doesn’t want a little something for themselves while out shopping. I start fidgeting with the necklace, trying to take the gem off.
A loud clearing of the throat causes the gem to slip free of both the chain and my sight. “Uhm, sir? Did you and your girlfriend dye your hair just to be a distraction?”
I cringe, Cana might have liked the gem. Dang it. That and a karen had just appeared. “I’m sorry ma’am, would you like us and all the uniquely haired people to be scalped before you?”
“No! Why would you suggest such violent actions?”
“I mean, it’s not like I could ‘bibbity bobbity boo’ my hair a different color. “ I motion waving a wand around goofily.
Mist glowers at the lady, “your choice of clothing is more distracting than anything else here.”
The lady gasps, “ I will bring my husband into this!”
Mist’s glare turns into a wicked smirk, “oh my bad. It’s your pregnancy hormones acting up. Congrats I guess.” How does she know about pregnancy? Or hormones? Anyways, it got the job done as the woman was left speechless and we walk off.
After another few minutes of walking, Mist locks eyes with a colorful brooch as we stroll. I stop and walk over to the seller, “how much is that?”
“I thought you only wanted a chain,” Mist comments.
“But I also wanna get you something if you so desire it.”
“It is not so desired,” she snips, eyes still on the brooch.
“Correct, it is longed for,” I stretch out “longed”.
“That ol’ thing?” The vendor points to the brooch. “You can have it for a couple ivory.”
Mist opens her mouth, but it’s left hanging as I slap the ivory down and pick up the brooch. She goes to say something a second time before I hand her the accessory. She holds it daintily, staring at the gem. I wait for a snarky remark, or maybe a sassy “thanks”.
“How do I wear this?”