"Two power-up specials, please," Lucas tells Sandy when she returns with our drinks, the citrus twisters we had before.

"Sure thing, hun," she says. "You two okay with that lurch a little bit ago?"

I feel my cheeks burn at the memory of landing on him naked, and Lucas looks a little uncomfortable, too.

"We were still training when it happened," he tells her. "Caused a little bit of an embarrassing situation, but otherwise we were fine. We were surrounded by padded blocks, so it'd have taken something a bit more to hurt us."

"That's good," she says. "I nearly knocked my head against the counter, and a couple of glasses broke when they fell. Second lurch in a few days, with a history of very few. Then there's this increase in speed. I'm a bit worried."

"Most people are," Lucas nods. "I'm a bit concerned, too, though there's not much we can do. If there's an attack from some demons or monsters, then I'll definitely lend my services to helping the defense."

"If that happens," she says. "I hope you come back safe and sound, the beasts driven back."

"Same here," I add.

"I'll go get your food started," Sandy tells us. "Back in just a bit with them, boys."

"Thanks," Lucas says.

She leaves, and Lucas and I sit here in silence for a few moments. I really don't know what to say, and I'm not sure if Lucas wants to talk. While I know he said we could talk about my training, maybe he was just using that as an excuse? Is he as lacking in friends as I am?

Probably not, he's handsome, kind, and friendly. There's no way he doesn't have at least one friend.

"Do you have any friends?" I ask before realizing the words are coming out.

"I have you, if you count as a friend," he gives me an amused smile.

"Just me?" I ask. "You seemed so… depressed when you found out I didn't have any friends."

"I've got a couple of friends," he tells me. "They put up with my crankiness first thing in the morning just to hang out, though we've done a bit less of that since they began dating last month. We still hang out, they just have more 'together' time."

Are they turning him into a third party now that they're an item?

"Ah."

"I'm not worried about losing them," he assures me. "We still hang out once a week. Saturday mornings so far are those days. It's really only down from two hangouts a week, so it's not a significant drop. The changed happened because of availability. They're dating, but both have to work, and Wednesday and Saturday mornings were the only days both of them had their schedules line up for free time. So they have their romantic times together on Wednesday. Nothing else has changed."

"Ah," that sounds better.

"Speaking of hanging out," he takes in a deep breath for a moment, then lets it out before speaking. "We apparently had a meetup with a ship from North America earlier, they were headed to meet up with us and found us coming towards them by surprise."

Ships from the continents while we're a fair distance away from them are rare, we usually only have communications with the continents whenever Sivalshi draws near to one.

When those times happen, we usually receive a few immigrants from the continents, most of whom are in the wealthier districts because those tend to be the people who can afford to flee the continents. We also receive goods produced by a few of the continental cities.

Though there always seems to be a shortage of certain resources, thus creating the need for heavy regulation on trash and recycling to optimize the resources we do have, we never do receive the essential resources from the continents. They couldn't afford to give it up to us, anyway.

Now that I think about it, it's almost as if we have a small supply to make up for what we lose and can't recycle. How is there always glass and clay for dishes? The stuff needed to make up for the loss when recycling plastic, paper, metals, and other things?

If we received a ship early, it was probably to deliver some wealthy person who wanted to move here or something.

"Wait," I realize what he said. "You said this ship had to do with hanging out? What?"

"Yeah," he says. "Apparently, they have a few powerful power users on-board, and so are able to make the risky trek through the ocean. They have some goods that they're selling to the cities on the great beasts. Some of them were films for theaters. New movies from the continents."

I've never been to a theater before, and haven't seen movies since I was a little kid, back before my parents died. They're expensive because most are imported from the continents. Only a few cities produce films, ones with higher populations of powerful power users, allowing them the ability to grant an easier peace. An easier peace means they can have more luxury jobs, like the film industry.

While there are theaters here, those are live theaters and only in the wealthy districts as far as I know.

The request he's making clicks in my head.

"You want to go see something with me?" I ask.

"Wednesday, if you're not opposed to it?" He asks. "I'd cover, of course, since I'm asking this and I know you can't really afford luxuries like going to the movies. My friends don't have an issue going on Saturday, but there will be crowds and I'll be a bit cranky. They don't want to switch their Wednesday romance time to Saturday because it means having to wait ten days rather than seven to see each other, and I don't like going alone."

While I'm not entirely comfortable with him spending more money on me, I can understand not wanting to go alone. Even if I've never been before, I'd not want to have someone I trust there. While 'trust' is probably a strong word for someone I've only known a few days, there's enough of it.

"It'll be my first time going to the theater," I tell him. "So, um, as long as it's not romance or horror or something like that, I'd be fine with that. But you have to let me make it up to you somehow."

"That's easy," he chuckles. "You can handle talking with everyone for me. You saw how I was with Abigail on the phone over Hannah's bullshit. I really do tend to be cranky first thing and I have little patience when I'm cranky."

"I can do that," I tell him, noticing him focusing on something behind me, a slight frown forming on his face. "What's wrong?"

"It's been four days since the last killing," he takes a sip of his drink. "We're now at seven victims. A continuing sign that the Patron doesn't care about the little things."

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I don't want to get into this with him again, but I can't stop myself.

"He does," I counter. "Why should we rely on the Patron for everything rather than just the big ones? If we start relying on him for every little crime, is he really a more distant observer? No, people would start calling him a tyrant, claiming he's taking our free will away."

"That's not what I'm saying," he says. "He's letting a serial killer go loose. This guy kills a new boy every four days. He kidnaps the kid, then four days later, just bashes the kid's bones until he dies, and then continues after he dies. That's pushing fear into people, Kieran. It's disturbing society."

"Sure," I say. "But it's not inciting riots. It's not destroying order. It's a disturbance, to be sure, but it's nothing close to the scale of what he sends the Sivalshi Guardians after, Lucas. Nothing close. It's a failure on our law enforcement for him to have gotten away so long. They're the ones who handle this stuff."

"Yet the Patron could," he says. "I'm not saying the Patron needs to handle every little thing, Kieran. But maybe he could, y'know, get his warriors to take care of a freaking serial killer who is causing fear across the city."

"Minor fear," I point out. "Sure, some people are feeling unsafe, but most of those are the ones who have a friend or loved one who might be…"

I trail off as I remember something he mentioned.

"How old's your brother?" I ask.

"Eight."

"He's as blond as you are, isn't he?"

"Not quite, but close enough," he mutters into his drink.

"Look, Lucas," I say. "I'm not saying it's not important. I'm saying that the Patron wants us to deal with most things. It's a trade-off. He handles the greater things, the things which could truly cause a disruption to society and order, and we handle the smaller things with the extra ability we have due to not worrying about the greater thing. He's already shown his care by allowing us to live on the back of Sivalshi, Lucas."

"Weren't your parents murdered?" He asks, and I frown. "You've mentioned enough I was able to dig it up, Kieran. Are you saying it's okay that the Patron let them die? That because he hasn't interfered, the trail for your parents' killers went cold?"

"Don't-don't bring my parents into this," I feel my anger rising. "It's not the Patron's fault they were killed. It's the fault of a couple of power users on a power high. It's not the Patron's fault they weren't caught. It's the inefficient state of our law enforcement and the lacking ability of the vigilantes. Maybe if the government actually worked with power users to help catch criminals, the vigilantes would be enforcement as well. They'd have access to better resources, not need to lurk in the shadows."

"Sure, the government could do that," he says. "But the Patron is a god, as far as anyone knows. He might not be all-knowing, but he damn well knows enough. He damn well has the power needed to force things. How else are there actual magical spellsuits that are always perfectly-tailored to the guardian they're assigned to? These tokens are beyond anything mankind can make, Kieran. The Patron could have stopped your parents' deaths. He could have caught their killers. How do you still support him when he let your parents go free like that?"

"You're right," I tell him. "The Patron is a god. So why should he care about us at all, Lucas?"

He opens his mouth to speak, and I inspect the fork that came with my silverware when I sat down.

"Don't you dare bring my parents up in argument again," I tell him. "Or I'm going to ask for a refund from your facility and see about training myself on my own. Or find another place I can train at. And I'll ask Tabitha to send a complaint straight to your grandpa."

He closes his mouth, and the two of us sit here in silence. Even after Sandy brings us our food, we don't talk. She seems to know there's tension between us now and doesn't try to make any small talk. It's probably for the better.

I simmer through all of this. It's unreasonable to expect him to know why I'm so angry, but I really don't like when someone tries to use my parents in an argument against the Patron. I trust the Patron, and I trust he has his reasons for acting the way he does. I do not expect him to meddle in the lesser things.

After we finish eating, Lucas pays and we leave. I'm about to head off on my own, not saying a goodnight to him, when he speaks.

"Sorry," he sounds it, so I turn and face him, finding an apologetic look. "I don't know why you got so riled up, but I'm sorry, Kieran. It's just… when I think about my little brother being a victim, and the guy getting away, I can't imagine ever letting that go."

"We have our differences in view," I tell him. "Please remember that."

"I will," his voice is quiet. "You'll still come, right? I enjoy training you."

"As long as you promise not to try to use my parents' murder as an argument again."

"Okay," he says. "I promise, Kieran. I don't understand your view, but I'll respect it."

For a few moments, we're both silent, then I take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds before letting it out.

"Look," I say. "Let's just go home and calm down. We're both heated over different things, we both have differences of opinion that we probably won't settle. It's best if we just agree to disagree on this and move on, yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, then we're quiet for a few moments. "Would you have an issue with me walking you home? Out of concern for your safety?"

As much as I'd like to do that right now, I'm a bit too upset with him to agree and know that I need the time alone to calm down. What I really want most, though, is for someone to hug me, to hold me in their arms. This argument has, strangely, made me feel even more alone than I've felt in years.

"Thank you," I tell him. "But it's probably best if I'm alone right now. I probably shouldn't be, but I'll face that danger."

He starts to say something, but decides against it. It was probably an attempt at asking to walk me home again. His concern is touching, but I'm conflicted with him at the moment. I'm angry with him and know I need to calm down, but at the same time, I'd like it to be him that hugged me and made me feel better.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he says.

"Yeah," I say. "See you tomorrow."

I start the trip home, and the walk does give me plenty of time to calm down. Only a few blocks away from my apartment building does something different occur. I pass by homeless people burning things for warmth, people traveling to and from somewhere, run-down buildings, and more all the time.

Very rarely do I spot someone standing under one of the few functional streetlights here, just waiting. Especially with no one else around to observe the meeting.

She's wearing a black-and-grey outfit, complete with cloak. Her straight, black hair is a wig, and she wears a silver mask over her entire face to conceal her identity, her eyes concealed by a layer of fabric stretched over the holes for the eyes in the mask. She can see out, but we can't see in. Sheathed on her hips are a pair of single-edged swords.

The figure before me is one I know by sight, even if I haven't seen her in a couple of years. Everyone who lives in this particular area recognizes her based on her outfit, though. The vigilante is one of the reasons there's so little crime in this particular part of the district. With her ability to manipulate the wind, including using it to fly and to pick up the sounds of crimes in progress, and her ability to fight with expert skill, she's a force to be feared.

"Sovirna," my tone is curt as I stop a few feet away from her.

"I overheard your argument at the diner," her voice comes out metallic, altered somehow to make it impossible to learn her real identity. "You keep the truth bottled up, Kieran. It can be helpful to let it out sometimes."

She's referring to my parents.

I take a deep breath before responding.

"I don't have anyone I trust well enough to confide that in," I tell her, more than a little snippy in my tone. "And I've only known Lucas a few days. I'm not going to tell him something like that."

"I can't force you to do anything, Little Kier," she uses the nickname she's had for me since I was little. I've never argued against her changing it, even after I hit my growth spurts. Hearing it makes me angry, and I like being angry when dealing with her. "But I can ask that you remember to not always keep it bottled up. If you ever need to talk, you know how to contact me."

"Yeah," I say. "I'll never do that, Sovirna."

Her cloak flutters in the wind, then she lifts up into the air and flies off. I track her as far as I can, then finish the trip to my apartment. She must be really concerned to decide to approach me after these last few years.

We had a pretty big argument after my parents died. Some things were said between us that were probably better not said. All of them by me. I made it clear I didn't want to talk with her again.

I blame her for my parents' murders and she knows it. I blame her for the killers getting away, too, and she knows it. She's spent the last four years keeping me safe to make up for it. I still haven't forgiven her.

Entering my apartment, I step out of my shoes, drop my bag, and walk over to my bed, dropping onto the mattress. She's right that I need to talk with someone about what happened, but I really don't have someone to do that with. So I'm going to shut all of those feelings back down and just go on with my life as normal.

That's how I handle it.