(16, or maybe 4.)
16. âYou have an orange.  From the Surface.  And you keep trying to defend it from everyone who wants to steal it.  (And Iâm just trying to get you to share because itâs been so long.)â
Sereno grunted as he scrambled up the ladder, kicking down the steel to slow pursuit. There was a loud curse below at that, but that was the point. The sixth would-be thief of the day, this one a woman with a pinched face and a bun so severe that the Linguist could get a headache looking at it, shook her fist as he vaulted over the roof ledge. He kept running, his sweet-smelling prize clutched close to his heart. He was getting into the Flit, there were going to be urchins about.
Couldnât a man enjoy the fruits of his labor?
A few blocks and Sereno scrambled back down, gasping for air. Once, the space had been a garden, a park from the looks of it, but now, with what little light there was, it was all deserted dust. He kept running, ducking behind statues, before slowing down, watching for anyone following him.
Once he was assured of silence, his heart no longer racing, he carefully sat down at a bench near a wall, his eyes glancing about warily as he slid his hand into the bag, fishing out an orange.
themonocularchameleon
âOh, my!â Cruz clasped their hands together â The man must have seen them double-take, already, so they didnât bother keeping up the pretense of not having seen the orange. âArenât you a lucky one? I can only imagine what you had to go through to get your hands on that. Blackwood, wasnât it?â
Sereno carefully cut into the orange, peeling away the fragrant skin to reveal the flesh beneath. Â He avoided touching it with his hands, with its dirt and its scrapes, until he had tugged away a half-moon of orange. Â Slowly, he pulled it apart and slid a piece into his mouth.
The sweet-sour flavor burst like starlight onto his tongue, stinging on his chapped lips in a way that made him shiver. Â He could remember eating something like this years before he had come to the Neath, and after so long without, it was utter bliss.
The voice made him freeze, the half-torn orange slice still in his hand, something silvery trickling down the corner of his eye. Â He chewed on it one final time before he swallowed, staring up at the Chameleon for a long moment. Â <"Yes, it is. Â Mx. Merida, isn't it?"> he raised a hand to wipe away the tear with a watery smile.











