“I’ve actually never been in a thrift store before,” Lute said wonderingly, eyes wide at the treasures all around him. “How did you find this place?”

Emilija teased.

Even a month ago, Lute might have felt sore at the reminder that he was now a true Anesidoran regardless of his feelings on the matter. But somehow, after making some new friends at school and living his own life for once, things did get better. And when he looked at someone awesome like Emilija, who could see all the good things about the island from an outside perspective, suddenly the idea of being here for life felt merely unfair and unfortunate rather than being the deepest personal tragedy a person could suffer.

“It’s really cool,” he said, and he meant it. This was a shop packed to overflowing with random things discarded from other Anesidoran’s lives. It spoke to him on an artistic level.

“I think California is in the west.”

Lute searched his knowledge of foreign geography, but her logic could not be faulted. And he thought he recognized the name Santa Cruz, but he couldn’t place it in terms of the midwestern cities he was familiar with.

“I’ve always wanted to visit the American midwest,” Lute said dreamily. “Cleveland and Chicago have the best orchestras in the world, after Vienna. People assume Anesidora would, or New York or Paris, but real talent isn’t about…”

Lute recognized he was self-indulgently rambling and busied himself with poking through a mismatched pile of fancy hats.

Emilija said quietly.

Lute didn’t falter, still sorting through hats, but he became introspective. They both knew she was an F-rank living off of her state-supplied stipend, and he was a double-S from a wealthy family and with a lucrative skill. And they both knew that was a bullshit way to see the world. But he also knew that the more loudly and seriously they claimed it didn’t matter, the more the suspicion would creep in that maybe it did.

The only solution was to not take such nonsense seriously in the first place. Maybe him and Emilija wouldn’t work out, but if it didn’t, he’d be damned if it would be because he’d overthought the unimportance of their differences in status. He valued real talent, and she had some talents of her own. Her words were good, and her words were true.

He turned dramatically toward her while donning a garishly decorated fedora.

“Most right you are, milady!” he affected. “And now let us apply our ample talents to the noble art of plate selection!”

He doffed his hat and bowed deeply, making her giggle.

she pulled him by the sleeve.

******

Lute and Emilija arrived back at the rabbit girls’ apartment to find Natalie and Hadiza already home, along with a well-manicured blond boy.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Hey, I’m Lute, Harpist. I think I’ve seen you around CNH?”

Lute liked introducing himself to globies, like the rabbit girls, who didn’t know anything about his past. People for whom “Harpist” could be his defining feature, because he said so.

“Yeah I know,” the blond boy said. “You’re Alden’s other roommate, right?”

“Alden’s Roommate, that’s me,” Lute replied semi-sarcastically. He was actually totally awesome with being defined as “Alden’s Roomate.” Anything but “Velra” was an improvement.

“So how do you know Natalie?” Lute asked, falling back on a Totally Normal Conversation Opener. “Were you in intake together?”

“They have a spiritual connection because they both have crushes on Alden,” Hadiza teased.

“Hey!” both Natalie and the blond boy said at the same time, with identical glares.

“I am only teasing them because Winston said Alden was cute,” Hadiza informed Emilija.

“I said other people like him because he’s cute, not that I do,” Winston complained.

“You’re not helping your case, mate,” Lute shook his head. He still couldn’t quite place the blond boy, and tried to remember whether Alden had ever mentioned a Winston.

Emilija stepped into the center of the room and opened her arms.

“You’re not bearing anything,” Winston noted. “Lute’s carrying all the bags. Just like how I was just saying hi to Natalie while I went on an energy drink run and somehow I ended up here carrying about 20 gallons of oat milk.”

“But there’s so many kinds of oat milk…” Natalie said abashedly.

Lute stepped forward with his bags and cleared his throat.

“Emilija comes bearing very important ceramics!” he announced theatrically. “Through the medium of her ever loyal workhorse! I am the squire to her knight! Her will is my command!”

“Didn’t Emilija say ‘enough drama’?” Hadiza commented. “And now we’re watching Shakespeare.”

“And could mere Shakespeare come supply thy party with such glorious items?” Lute orated, setting down the bags. Emilija pulled out an item and took center stage, dramatically showing off a small ceramic carafe made for hot sake as Lute knelt and posed at her side, gesturing toward her.

“Behold! A bottle, destined for thy wevvi. A better bottle you shan’t find in seven lands!”

Natalie reached excitedly for the carafe, and Emilija handed it to her so she could start bringing out the next set of items.

Lute spun into a new dramatic pose at Emilija’s other side. His voice grew deeper and louder.

“A kingdom’s worth of tiny cups! Would that ever in my life I could behold such majesty?”

There really were a lot of tiny cups. Sake cups, decorative tea cups, ceramic shot glasses, tiny hand-made mugs, and a few of what Natalie recognized as actually being egg cups.

“I shall meet my end at peace, having witnessed such a fine assortment of tiny cups as these!” Lute mimed his own death, collapsing with one last wistful look at the cups as Hadiza finished unboxing the last one.

“That didn’t even rhyme,” Winston heckled.

Hadiza shushed him and whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “I am being entertained. Your interference is counter to my interests.”

“Alas,” Lute croaked from the floor. “My end upon this mortal coil is all but assured. There is but one thing that could rouse my spirit from its rest, the thing that’s left for last for it is best…”

He peered out of his good eye at Emilija, who was still wrestling with the bags to uncover the final party item. He’d have to vamp a little more.

”Ha! Best rhymes with rest!” Winston shouted and pumped his fist. “Told you rhyming is awesome!”

Lute had certain ideas about the value of rhyme versus rhythm, and so he wanted to roll his eye at Winston, but he was also still a performer. He enjoyed being appreciated and he was willing to play to his audience.

Emilija finally freed the china plate from its wrapping and displayed it to the room.

“Oh plate! Good plate! Arrived not late! My kingdom for a plate, I’d rate!” Lute announced in a tone of voice that suggested he might be speaking the wisest words of wisdom ever worded.

Winston clapped his hands together delightedly, and Lute took that as a sign to carry on.

“What happy fate, to have a plate! It’s not just good. I’d say it’s…”

Lute paused and stroked his chin, as if to ponder the right word to choose. Winston leaned forward with wide eyes and rapt attention, allowing Lute to milk the moment a bit longer.

The two held each other in suspense for another ten seconds before all three girls yelled together, even Emilija, in english.

“GREAT!” the three chorused, and the force of it nearly knocked Winston off the couch.