One of those called quickly run up to Ode’go, tugging at the cuff of his denim jacket.

“Hey asshat, think you could tell us medics a thing or fucking two before you decide to bother us?

Juxtaposing her supportive role, the medic speaks with a resounding bass, with a coat of both anger and an almost harsh grate. Though of average height, the young girl’s purple hair, which is styled in the vague shape of a mohawk, and her biceps, which come through his short sleeves, give her an almost menacing aura, more befitting that of a bodyguard or mercenary. Upon her face rests an expression noncommittal, somewhat between curiosity and angst, directed towards Ode’go with furrowed brows—and bulging veins.

“Start by telling me how bad it’s gonna get before I knock your lights out.”

Unfazed by his frustration, Ode’go shrugs, “We’ll see how he answers, but chances are…” He cuts off as if pausing for dramatic effect. “No holds barred.”

Without so much as a sigh, the medic swears under her breath, reacting as one would to any other inconvenience. Withdrawing back and returning with two more in tow, the ensemble of healers appear ready, a mix of excitement and mundane acceptance alike across their faces. This sight, which seems to prompt progress, brings Ode’go to a stride, with the rest of us following in tow—taking our journey into the hallway and down its marble path—for the grand total of ten seconds.

Ode’go raises a finger. He stops to take out his phone and answers its ring. “One second, good ladies and gentlemen.” Pressing it to his cheek, the muffled yet audibly excited words of someone comes through the speakers. Ode’go’s expression undergoes changes in the meanwhile. At first, it is excitement, then a sudden flash of raised brows quickly followed by disappointment, before at last being almost satisfied reluctance—tinged with just the right amount of remorse.

“Sorry, everyone, but the fight’s getting moved.”

My eyebrows raises in confusion. The others follow suit.

“Moved?” The medic from earlier asks. “You pulling my leg?”

“Nope.”

“Tch.” She speaks through her teeth. “What’s the damn occasion? Must be pretty important to cancel it all of a sudden.”

“I forgot I have a movie to watch tonight.”

The realisation strikes us like a thunderclap.

“You’re kidding.”

“Haha.” Ode’go laughs and scratches his chin. “I’m afraid not.” as if looking for an alternative, the catboy stares at the medic before shifting his gaze to each one of them in a fashion not too dissimilar to assessing paintings on a wall. “How about coming along? Your shifts will be over soon, yes, and I just happen to have some money to buy everybody a ticket.”

“Really?!” A boy voices in approval.

The head medic’s left eye twitches. She then flicks the boy to her right on his forehead. “The hell you getting all excited for? A movie ticket’s like five laines each; they’re the price of two meat buns; dammit, I can get that for you anytime.”

“Hey, what did I say about normal tickets, Iána? I’m getting us premium seats.”

“Premium?” Iána’s abrupt question betrays her innate reaction. Her left eyebrow raises as if in interest, quickly retracts as if in feigned impartiality, then returns to its initial state oncemore. “You talkin’ the ones with long leg rests or waiters?”

“Both.”

“Well, fine, but is it 3D?”

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“Even better, it’s got moving chairs, smells, snow, water, wind, heat; the whole package.”

“That doesn’t mean it has 3D.”

“It has 3D Iána!”

“Yeah, but is it real 3D?”

“More than that.” And Ode’go begins to explain. “Forgot the director’s name, but he’s a major specialist in 3D. Like, he specifically makes his movies for the format, you know? Shoots it with specialised cameras instead of lazily slapping it on post-process as an afterthought to make some extra money. He does it tried and true, no grain, no blurry out of focus, nada.”

“Fine, ya have me convinced.”

The violet-haired medic resigns without further notice, walking past Ode’go to the direction of the training grounds alongside her groupies. She continues till ten steps, stopping just then to menacingly look back and pose a question.

“When’s the movie?”

“One and a half hours.”

Iána continues once more.

“Not gonna ask when to meet?” Odego calls, cupping his mouth like a makeshift megaphone.

“I’ll be there.”

The catboy does not dispute.

*

At 20:30 precisely, we find ourselves at the back exit of the school, just short of opened double doors and a brief stint of stairs, making sure to stay indoors to gather whatever heating possible from wayward radiators. Standing next to a nearby wall are the three medical staff, with me, Ode’go and Ceylica already in tow, a wave of our hands in motion. And yet, as we address them, it becomes clear that something is wrong. A barely palpable force, fine-drawn yet deadly, like a swing from Guillaume’s sword.

“Iána doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s been waiting here for the past twenty minutes.”

Oh, so that’s it.

“Urgh…”

“She also regrets being obscure in hindsight but is kinda too embarrassed to admit it.” adds in the other medic, a human girl of short stature and short black hair.

Iána does not refute their statements; with h ands in her pockets, she rubs her back against the nearby surface, shivering and fidgeting, acting as a portable wall cleaner intent on covering every spot. The pressure loosens by the second as a result.

Ceylica, whose lips form a soft line, treads over to Iána, and says, “Hehe, seems like someone’s a little cold.” to which Iána more then quickly replies “The hell, I’m not rubbing the wall cause I’m cold, you black-eyed retard.” and adds “And who gave you the permission to get all touchy-feely anyway?!”

All in all, a relatively average conversation between teenagers.

“Let’s save the energy for the movie.” I smile. “I heard it’s pretty thought-provoking.”

The same students, arguing an instance prior, stop, though evidently, with little in the way of vesting much actual faith in my counterpoint. Ceylica, in particular, with an almost vengeful shimmer in her eyes and sway of her body, stares straight at me, unmoving.

“Thought-provoking?” She enunciates, “Who watches a movie to think?! I wanna see people beat the shite out of each other, blood, guts, and bone included! If I wanted to be ‘thought provoked’, I’d do MY LONG OVERDUE MATHS HOMEWORK, MORGANA!”

She looks… Pissed. And, with her eyes on Ode’go, seems to be prodding for a potential scapegoat.

“Well, you can have a movie that does both,” I say. “Intelligently applied violence is the basis of wars.”

“Don’t even worry, my dear. This movie’s got everything you could want.”

Ode’go comes close to Ceylica. Then, leans in. And now, with his arms wrapped around her waist, rests a firm kiss on her cheek. The two then exchange tranquil looks. Like a sudden breeze, the half-demon hugs him back, squeezing, touching, and at once bringing the two together.

Against this sight, a few fawn, and one, still awkwardly a half-step from the couple, nervously steps away, quickly becoming a blur in the distance.

“DAMMIT, I HATE COUPLES!” comes from the distance, no doubt as to who it refers to.

Chuckling at that yell, we make our due way and head along the path to the cinema, located in the ‘Entertainment’ district of the school, just ten minutes away. At these moments, free from burden and expectation, I let my mind drift awry, musing over the fun and prospect of friendship. Many days have passed since the start of my school journey; not once did I long to go back, to return to Alpha-One and take up the mantle of Morgana Wittford, the secretary. It isn’t to say that I dislike it, but that, for all it’s worth, life as it is, is fun without wanting anything more…

“Hm.”

“So Morgana, do ye have a guy yer interested in?”