"Florence. Florence! Hey, easy!"

Marie Elvera watched the slender woman awkwardly work around her expanded abdomen. Even standing up in her chair too quickly was dangerous, at least it was to her concerned best friend. Florence chuckled, unfazed by it.

"You worry too much; I can get a spoon myself," she said, trotting back into the cafe in an unsteady, top-heavy jaunt. Marie watched the woman practically prance as if the seven-month-deep pregnancy was nothing but an uncomfortable breeze.

They had found each other at a small cafe in a quiet part of the city, with vines crawling the orange-brick building, invading the small window sills in a slow, nonchalant way. With a canal right by them, little sound reached the small, walled-off garden unless a gondola drifted past. It was their hiding spot, their small meeting place every second month that, so far, very few knew of. Marie watched her friend thank the elderly lady behind the glass counter, lined with cakes and sandwiches. From here, she could see the words appear on the old lady's bone-white mask as her shadowy limbs reached for a spoon.

Bless you, and your baby, dearest. She'll be just as beautiful as you are.

Florence chucked, "that she will," before returning. It was a shame Beaks were incapable of talking, yet the gentle manner in which the words seemed to ink themselves onto their masks brought its own elegance.

"See?" Florence teased, "I'm perfectly capable." She sat down slowly, her face already anticipating the pillowy apricot shortcake, overdue for a bite. Perhaps it was the cravings, or perhaps there was no difference at all, but Florence's sweet tooth had grown nothing short of rabid in recent months. Marie marvelled every time she saw her best friend, belly grown significantly more compared to the last time they had met. Tight, belted summer dresses had grown into wider, more draping attires, yet she looked beautiful all the same. The wavy red hair and radiant smile had left many a man, woman and Spirit alike lost for words. She was just that type of woman, and both Marie, and Florence's husband were at a loss for how they had managed to snag such a beauty for themselves.

Florence wasted no time wolfing down her slice, managing to make the act of shovelling down food with a spoon look almost regal. Marie played with the pleasantly deep-orange tea in her cup, swirling the few leaves that had escaped the filter into a tinkling tempest, barely louder than the whistle of the wind.

"Florence," she started.

"Hm?" Florence replied, still chewing.

"Do you think I could do it?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"The whole...." Marie tried to say, gesturing at the bump with her teaspoon. An uncouth habit she had picked up in the military.

"Oh, this? I didn't realise you wanted to," Florence said, cleaning the edges of her lips with her finger. Marie leaned back in her chair, still unsure as to what she was asking. She tapped her metal-tipped boots against each other, suddenly so aware of the manly attire she would usually show off with pride. No one had ever judged her for it; in fact, she was revered when she donned the uniform. But she felt the awful sense she was missing something, something Florence radiated rather brilliantly.

"I don't know if it's a want, really. It just feels like I should be."

"That's fairly stupid," Florence dismissed, returning to her cake.

"Just hear me out, please?"

"It wouldn't be good for your work," Florence said, in the matter-of-fact sense she said many things, sometimes even the hurtful things. "You've built yourself such an impressive standing amongst your contemporaries for years. Knowing you, a child would not be the end of your career, but it would certainly throw you off your balance." Sometimes, Marie would find herself feeling small in the face of such well-spoken sentences.

"And if my memory still serves me, I can't help but recall every time you've...well, how do I put it nicely,"

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"Just say it."

"Cocked up in front of the ones you've tried to sweet talk. Men are largely useless, but I'd say they're fairly invaluable in this case," she said, a playful superiority about her.

"Say I adopted one, then?"

"The first issue still applies, Marie. I'm sure you'd have barely any grievances, but a child is a lot of work. Especially when you work far from home so often."

It was an answer that Marie largely expected. Since Florence's announcement of her pregnancy, it had been in the back of Marie's mind, springing on her conscience when she tried to sleep. She was successful in every right and every metric that mattered, and hardly anyone dared question that except herself.

"I know you said you felt you should be, but I doubt that's the case," Florence said, spearing the last quarters of her cake with her spoon. "I doubt anyone in your position would feel obliged to have children, let alone marry. You're doing your part for the world, and that's more than enough."

"You think so?"

"Certainly!" she said, finishing the cake and beginning work on her tiny teacup, small specks of cream still spotting the edges of her mouth. "You want a child, that's all. I can understand that, but I don't think it's how you planned your life out to be."

Marie gently lifted the teacup to her lips, the liquid somehow still as warm as when she was served it. They both took a sip at the same time, and smacked their lips at the same time.

"I guess I didn't leave much room for one, did I?"

"No, you didn't. People like you, Marie, have their hands full protecting the world, so people like me can focus on the small life that matters to us."

She said so with such delicacy, such admiration, that Marie almost forgot the violent eating habits and the leftovers littering her face. Florence Hardridge was a beautiful woman, far more worthy of giving life than Marie ever thought she herself could be. Being a mother took that kind of person, that kind of personality, and even then, it was an uphill battle with seemingly no end.

She was not that kind of woman. The cruelty of the world and her place in it made so much more sense than blocking all that out and telling a small mind that knows no better that it'll all be okay. It felt cruel, yet necessary. A beauty scampered together in much too little time, made of scrap metal limply welded together, yet somehow held against anything that so dared to penetrate it.

"I guess you're right," Marie said, leaning back in her chair and shielding her eyes from the sun. She felt the restless tapping of her boots cease, and her clothes returned to feeling one with her skin.

"You'd make a good mother, though," Florence said quietly. Marie looked at her and found her friend sitting up straight as if the sentence had been a proclamation rather than a mere suggestion. "The love you have for the people you protect, giving that all to one child." She smiled, apparently thinking up a scene in her energetic head. "You'd be a hard mother, but a good one."

"The opposite of you, then," Marie smiled.

Florence flashed a brief smirk. Fleeting, as if it had departed with the wind. "We shall see what type of mother I grow into," she said, nary a glimpse of the cheerfulness that had constantly permeated her existence.

"Marie, I want to ask of you something," she said.

"What is it?" Marie asked, leaning forward.

Florence placed her cup back onto the saucer and inhaled gently, her chest rising in a shiver.

"I want you to keep an eye on Percy for me."

"How so?"

She spoke carefully, a rarity for her. "He's changed a little since I fell pregnant. Subtly enough that even he has no idea of it, but I can see it. He's growing more...feverish as of late."

"He's always been the cautious type, hasn't he?"

"No. This is different. I'm used to him being protective, to the point that I sometimes fear that he thinks I'm hopeless on my own. But this...is different. He's frequented provoking Spirits, going so far as to kill them outright more often than necessary. I can't prove anything, but it's almost like he's sworn to wipe them out."

"That's concerning. Neither nation can afford a breakdown in relations now. If he's violating any treaties-"

A cold stare broke Marie out of work mode.

"Sorry. I understand, but it might not be his doing directly. General as he may be, he does not have full autonomy."

"I know, and I want you to keep an eye on him since you're more aware of that world than I am. I know my husband when he sleeps next to me in bed, but he's a different person sometimes when he works."

"I know, Florence. It's something we all have in common."

Florence pursed her lips and gripped the delicate porcelain handle.

"I don't want him to lose himself over us. Me and the baby. He's a man who saves the world, after all. I'm scared trying to care for both won't end well."

Unable to take any more of her friend's anguish, Marie extended a hand and grasped Florence's. They watched each other, soft smiles reassuring one another.

"I love you, Florence. I'll do anything you want of me," Marie said with a profound sincerity she could not dare to attribute to anything else.

"Don't make me blush. Why can't you be like that to anyone you fancy," Florence teased, pulling her hand away and instead grabbing Marie's with all the youthful tenderness Marie expected from her.

"Will you be her godmother?" Florence asked, bringing a red flush to Marie's cheek that she had no idea she was capable of.

"Of course, it would be an honour. Do you have a name yet?"

"If it's a boy, then Harry. If it's a girl...Percy thought of the name Evalyn."

"I like it."

"Me too."