Dysnathy of predators
°Word count: ±3500 °Johnny Worthington/ F! OC ° Warnings!: Bad language °Chapter IV °Chapter VI °Masterlist° Chapter V. "Peace Agreement"
How did this happen? My morning was going perfectly! I woke up, marked the date on the calendar—just 3 days left until classes start. I should just start counting down, but that doesn’t matter.Because this damn skirt won’t zip up!How on earth did I let this happen? This thing fit me perfectly just a few months ago, and now the zipper just won’t close!
“Черт возьми!” I growled as I ripped open the zipper. And flung the blue plaid skirt aside.I knew I shouldn’t have eaten those wonderful fried tarantulas. They were truly incredible, but oh my God! Mom would kill me if she saw me doing this. There are only three days left. Just three. Days. Until the damn start of classes, and how am I supposed to start my modeling classes if I can’t even fit into my own clothes!? How am I supposed to be perfect when I can barely even close my damn mouth!?
“That’s so stupid.” I stamped my foot and walked over to my makeshift closet. I’d made plans to go out with Chloe so we could go to the mall in downtown Monstropolis together. Thank goodness I decided to get ready an hour and a half early—that gives me time to find at least one decent skirt and one of my jackets.After rummaging through and messing up my clothes, I finally find something that fits me. A simple, flowing dark blue skirt. With small, thin chains. And then, they came together to form a sort of dark bodice, which I tied on myself, using the tip of my tail to pull the strands tight.I needed a brush to comb my fur on my chest, legs, and hips—it’s actually kind of uncomfortable to wear these things over my fur—but my look is perfect.
“Great… acceptable. Almost perfect,” I muttered. I slipped a new silver necklace around my neck, and of course, I always kept Grandpa’s watch in my inner pocket.I grabbed a small bag, a white crossbody bag that just goes perfectly with my fur. After making sure I had everything I needed and double-checking that my dorm room was locked, I finally managed to leave the dorm.
I checked my messages on my phone. Once we were sure of the time, we agreed to meet at the main fountain. With that random monster sculpture there, I didn’t have time or any reason to read who that guy was. In exactly 10 minutes, at 10:20 a.m. Maybe if I hurry and run into her along the way? Oh no, that made me sound desperate, like a—
“Ms. Garriver.” I stopped walking just as I was about to cross the street. It was a firm, authoritative voice—who could it be now? I don’t have time for this!
“Yes? Oh, Ms. Hardscrabble. What a surprise,” I muttered. I turned to face the principal. She stood with perfect poise, looking me up and down, her hands clasped behind her back. I rarely praise or acknowledge the superiority of certain monsters. But even I know that Dean Hardscrabble is no ordinary creature. Her half-centipede, half-bat body could cause a knot of dread deep in my stomach. Not even my Father’s most powerful roar could do that to me. The primal fear of lowering my head, or simply staring at those paws moving so naturally, while my stomach just churned. This has happened to me very rarely, and this woman is the cause of a good portion of those times.
“A real surprise. First of all, please forgive me for not seeing you sooner; unfortunately, with the arrival of new students, my schedule gets crowded very easily.” She muttered with her usual calm and boredom. And then, her sharp eyes landed on me, sending a slight shiver down my spine. “However, I came here because of your father. Mr. Nordenov specifically asked me to give this to you.”
Dean Hardscrabble held out one hand, without bothering to take the other off her back. In her claw was a key—a heavy motorcycle key—with a small keychain bearing my father’s family crest. “Although, I have to say, I’m totally against any kind of motorcycle or vehicle being driven on campus at speeds exceeding 30 km per hour.”
I didn’t answer her right away. So… was that Dad’s gift?Господи…
Behind the principal was a motorcycle. It was one of my favorite models, the Yamara R1. But not just any one—oh no, it was the customized Yamara R1-90 BXT. Genuine leather upholstery, dyed Tyrian purple, and a coat of wax that shone just right. The rest of the bodywork was a dark, matte purple—almost faded—but still with that elegance I appreciate so much. Wooo... and those wheels? Chrome, with an “A” symbol in the center of the hubcaps. And the handlebars were the same shade of purple as the rest of this little metallic beauty in front of me. My own name, “Ária” was written on it. You know, I actually wanted to be self-centered, just like many monsters said I was. But how can I do that when my name is written on this beautiful motorcycle?
“That’s…”
“Yes, it’s a gift from your Father. He mentioned something about it being a treat before classes.” Hardscrabble muttered. Her legs were already moving, carrying her away. “Have a nice day, Miss Garriver. And please, stay in line.”
I completely ignored the centipede monster’s remark. Sure, I’ll stay in line… In the line of the improbable. And finally, I turned my attention back to my beloved Evangeline. The 14th motorcycle in my personal collection—I got it on my 20th birthday. Oh, what a beautiful piece, what a magnificent museum-quality work of art.
“Thank you, Ms. Hardscrabble.”
“Don’t thank me, child.” The centipede paused for a moment, turning its torso backward. It fixed its eyes on me. Unlike before, its gaze was more… angry. I’d even say resentful. Like the calm before the storm. “Your father gave me clear instructions. That’s all. And... I hope I don’t have to deal with any more surprises from Mr. Nordenov.”
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll take your request into consideration, Director.” I smiled slightly at the woman. Maybe I’m showing my fangs a little too much? Or maybe my gaze has dropped a little? I don’t know. I really have no idea what Dad must have done to cause such a reaction of disgust among the MU board. But I know it must have been something big—just like Dad always was. Hardscrabble muttered a low reply. And then she started walking again. She kept her wings tightly folded—and this lasted only a few seconds, just long enough for her to step away and, with a leap, fly away from the dormitory.
“Finally… Evangeline!~” I smiled genuinely. I tapped my tail on the ground, letting it sway from side to side. I ignored the stares of the monsters around me—some judgmental, others curious, and even a few admiring. But my main focus was on my motorcycle.
“Oh, my Evangeline. I love my Father so much, but why did he choose you for this place? Your grace doesn’t deserve to be in this filthy place.” I couldn’t help but smile as I ran my hand over the bodywork, whispering those passionate words to one of the loves of my life. How I love my motorcycles. It’s a feeling almost as good as flying.
Even before my wings grew and my muscles were ready to fly, I’ve always been crazy about motorcycles.The adrenaline, the agility—it was the closest I’d ever come to feeling true physical freedom. Even though those moments were rare back then, I’ve been collecting them ever since I was a teenager.Basically, I lose myself in my thoughts, running my fingers over the bodywork and leather. Taking in the details. Details I already knew; but they were so perfect that they were worth seeing again.I would love it if my beloved and favorite, my cherished motorcycle—which I named “Бриллиант”— My “diamond.” So many memories, so much history… but she’s in a safe place, stored at my house and waiting for my return. Even if it takes a while… but for now, I’m happy to have my Evangeline. Especially considering the traffic rules around here…. Where was I supposed to go anyway? Was it something important?
“Miss Ária!”
“AH! SON OF a—”
The scream and the jump I let out the moment Chloe’s voice reached my ears were embarrassing. Quickly, I put one hand over my chest—I confess it was a bit dramatic. But genuine. And with my other hand, I covered my mouth, wiping away the lip gloss I’d hastily applied and cutting my sentence short.
“AH!” Chloe screamed too. She covered her mouth with both hands. She looked at me in astonishment—maybe she’d been startled by my own scream. How stupid of me, Ária—of course that’s what it was!
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” the girl stammered. She took her hands away from her mouth, keeping them raised.
“I wasn’t scared!” I growled. Oh, shit! I wasn’t scared—anyone who studies to be a scarer doesn’t get scared that easily. It’s almost a rule of monster society. Fear; being scared—that’s a human thing; it’s weak, shameful for a society built on the idea of instilling fear. I sighed. I straightened my posture, cracking a few vertebrae in the process. Shoulders back, chest out. I keep my arms crossed, my back straight. My wings are slightly spread—since keeping them closed might cause them to go unnoticed. My tail touches the ground, tracing gentle curves, no longer swaying from side to side.
“Sorry, Bluey. I ended up raising my voice.”
“No! Oh, it’s okay! It’s just that…” Chloe stumbled over her words again. Was she stuttering, or did she just not know how to explain it? “It’s just that… it’s already 10:23! That’s right! and I was so nervous to see you!”
“Nervous?” I raised an eyebrow. I huffed, still trying to control the uncontrollable pounding of my heart. How embarrassing—what kind of monster gets scared so easily? Especially one of such magnitude. I bet that purple demon would get scared even more easily—I wonder what he’s afraid of?I’m thinking too much about that arrogant guy.
“Yes! Well, a little, but… Hey! What’s that?” Bluey quickly changed the subject. Making me sigh as I looked where she was pointing.
“‘That’? Bluey, Bluey, this here is my beloved Evangeline.” I smiled. My tail swished against the ground as I relaxed slightly—which made Chloe relax too. As I take her hand and place it on the motorcycle’s bodywork. It wasn’t running yet, obviously—the key was still in my hand. But even so, in my opinion, the power of that machine was already palpable.
“Ah…” I hear her murmur. And then, she asks shyly, “Evan—Evangeline?”
“Exactly. Can you believe it!?” I widened my smile. I just couldn’t hide my joy anymore—I mean, one of my motorcycles is right here!
“This is one of my favorites from the collection. It’s a 2-cylinder engine that goes over 105 mph—even up to 115, if it gets some momentum.” I know Bluey probably isn’t understanding a thing, judging by his confused expression, but right now, my sincere joy is enough to make me forget that fact. “An original Akrapovič exhaust, top-of-the-line carbon fiber. And look at these tires—they’re authentic Pirelli Diablo Rosso IVs.” I crouched down, stretching my wings so they wouldn’t touch the ground completely. I tapped a claw against the tire—they were fully inflated and ready to go. Just the thought of it sends a slight shiver down my spine. Ah, the thrill! Finally, I stand up with all the grace I can muster. Then I swing my arms forward, causing my shoulder muscles to stretch and tremble slightly.
“All right, all right. I’ll stop talking about boring stuff like motorcycles.”
“Oh, sorry I didn’t ask anything, it’s just that—”
“Bluey. It’s okay. I know my thing with motorcycles isn’t your thing.” I played the card of grabbing her by the chin again. That always works—it shuts her up in a second. And as a result, I have all three of her eyes focused on me. “Why don’t we figure out how we can get to the mall? Want to take Evangeline for a spin~?”
___________________________________________
“Miss Ária! We’re going to get a Fine!"
“What!?”
“We’re going to get a fine!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Of course we’re going to get a fine—I’m driving 80 mhp on the highway. What was the speed limit again? Oh, never mind.
While I was driving—almost dangerously—on the highway, Chloe was firmly close behind me, clinging to my back and pinning my wings uncomfortably against my body. Her helmet—which was my spare, a dark blue one that completely covered her face thanks to its black visor—prevented me from seeing her frightened expression in the rearview mirror. At least my tail was firmly wrapped around her hip, which probably gave her a sense of security. Since I’d placed my tail there, she’d at least stopped trembling.
The view of the old, tree-lined, almost suburban landscape of the neighborhood where the university was located gradually faded away. The hot, humid air was slowly replaced by a drier, more stifling climate. This was because we were approaching the center of the metropolis, where buildings and skyscrapers were the new trees; the paths were made of concrete; and the carefree, youthful energy of the university was fading, giving way to a sense of insignificance.
And so, right in the middle of all the big stores and restaurants, we came upon a massive building. It had huge glass windows and a parking lot that was ridiculously much larger than the entire building. And that’s the much-acclaimed “Tusk & Fangs Mall” Simply the largest and most expensive shopping center in all of Monstropolis. And this is where someone like me should always do their shopping. And soon, Bluey will be thinking the same thing.
“Tusk & Fangs? Miss Ária, that place… costs a fortune!” Chloe grumbled. Meanwhile, I parked in the designated motorcycle spot, taking extra care not to put a single scratch on Evangeline’s bodywork. Finally, I took the key out and put it in my purse, then got off the motorcycle first, reaching out my hand to help Chloe down.
“A fortune? You’ve been riding around all this time, sitting on leather dyed with Tyrian purple.” I smiled broadly as the girl got off, nearly falling twice but managing to stay by my side. “You still don’t know what a real fortune is, Bluey.”
“What is Tyrian purple?” she asked, genuinely confused. As she took off her helmet, I took advantage of the moment and did the same. I then secured both of our decorated helmets firmly to the handlebars.
“You could say it’s a special dye,” I replied. As the two of us walked side by side toward the mall entrance, this time I held only her hand. I let my ponytail swing gently behind me.
I led her to the entrance, and the mall’s enormous lobby opened up before us—exactly what I’d expected. A straight, open corridor gave us a view of four floors of stores upon stores, with small kiosks and smaller shops on the ground floor. Further ahead, there was probably a food court or maybe a movie theater.
“So…” I began. Turning to the girl in blue, I noticed her wide eyes and the slight tremor in her hands. Is she scared? Nervous, maybe? That was actually something I’d expected from her. She really isn’t the kind of monster who hangs out in these places. When she gave that simplistic, tedious summary of her life a few days ago, it became clear to me that this girl doesn’t know what’s truly good in life. How lucky for her that she found me, then. “Where do you want to start? Some new everyday bags for Lauren? An MCM to make the PNKs drool with envy?”
“MCM?” Chloe looked at me, confused by the name. Seriously, she doesn’t even know… what brand is that?
“Exactly. A great German brand—it’s perfect for you. That’s just my opinion, of course.” I smiled, holding her hand as we made our way down the aisle. We passed several monsters, most with a striking presence; and small, yet obvious, signs of the wealth hidden beneath their scales and fur. Of course, there were also those who wanted to make a statement. Flashy and over-the-top—in a mall. We’re simply not in the right setting for that. “Or do you want to try on some clothes? Dior? Prada for everyday wear? Jewelry? Makeup? Today is the day to transform your style.”
“Miss Ária… I don’t want to seem ungrateful, or anything like that, but…” Chloe murmured softly. As she stopped walking, O’Que stopped too. Right in front of a beautiful jewelry store. “Isn’t… this a bit much? We’ve only known each other for a short time. And I don’t want you to spend so much on me! I can’t pay you back for this—I don’t even deserve something this expensive…”
As soon as Chloe finished speaking, a silence followed. It almost seemed as if the world had stopped for a moment—just a one-second delay. Long enough to be perceptible, but still hard to notice. The girl’s gaze wasn’t on me; she was looking at the floor, to the sides, at the stores—at the monsters all around us. Refusing to look at me.
“Chloe. Look at me." I said, with the intensity of a command. This made Chloe flinch, but she looked at me anyway.
I fixed my gaze on her eyes. But I didn’t touch her; I didn’t force her to look at me like before. Or like I’d done so many times over the last few days when I was near her, using my claws and fingers. I can’t use the same move all the time—even if it’s very effective—because that takes the fun out of the game.
“I never said you had to pay me back.” I said, not daring to look away. “I’m doing this because, over the last few days, you’ve shown yourself to be someone worth my attention. It’s a hard-won achievement—trust me.”
I must confess that I growled as soon as I spoke that last sentence. It’s something I rarely do—it’s animalistic; unbecoming of a Garriver. Mom would be furious if she knew about this slip-up of mine, but she’s not here to find out.
“So. Don’t you dare say you don’t deserve this—you do. And the only reason I don’t do this anymore is that, unfortunately, I still don’t have permission to have a jadeite necklace made especially for you—something reserved only for my Father’s dearest friends.”
I kept a neutral expression for a few more seconds. My tail turned slightly, and then came to a complete stop. I can only assume the same thing happened with Chloe’s thoughts, since her eyes—which had been nervous and hesitant to look at me—were now fixed on me. They sparkled brighter than the jewels in the display case next to us. I let the silence settle over us a little longer, until I felt my own gaze soften. And then, I offered my hand to her again—an invitation.
“We’re not going to talk about this anymore, Bluey. We have more important things to do. Don’t you think?” My smile widened twice as much when she agreed without a second thought.
I took advantage of her momentary daze and guided her into the jewelry store. The place was exactly what one would expect from a store of such prestige: cold white marble floors, the kind that gleam and shimmer with the richness of detail found in a mirror. The walls were upholstered in silk and leather in some places, while small, sharp pieces of costume jewelry caught the eye. And the lights—beautiful antique chandeliers—had white bulbs instead of candles, making the atmosphere anything but cozy. But rather, it was brightly lit and opulent—the kind of place where every flaw is revealed and on full display.
“Want to start with something that matches your eyes? A sapphire, maybe?”
The rest of the afternoon was, how can I put it, perfect. We went through the entire second and third floors, focusing on fashion. We filled bags and purses with some of the highest-end designer brands this mall has to offer—all thanks to Dad, who gave me carte blanche to spend however I wanted. And when it comes to my friends, I’m not skimping on expenses. Speaking of Bluey, she was still nervous and hesitant to pick up a single $350 blouse, as if it were a big deal; well, I made her grab ten more of those. Blouses, loose-fitting cotton crop tops with longer hems and superior quality; new tops and lots of skirts; winter pants on sale; comfortable linen shorts; and so much more. Scarves; handkerchiefs; gloves; short and long socks, and even some shoes. As much as I know we’ll rarely use them—monsters rarely need such insignificant accessories—it’s always good to have one in the closet.
“Thanks, sweetie.” I winked at the cashier as I handed him the dark-colored card with a $200 tip. I didn’t stick around long enough to see the little monster’s reaction—I was too busy trying to walk with the five bags piled high on both my arms. “Can you carry all that, Chloey?”
Bluey was walking right behind me, also carrying a stack of bags. The weight seemed to be too much for her, as she was stooped lower than usual, lacking that tiny, dainty grace she naturally has when she walks. And her steps were shorter and more hesitant, too.
“What? Oh, no, I’m fine…” she muttered. She almost fell when she tripped over her own feet, which made me let out a loud sigh. She’s going to be a handful…
“Want to take a break? It’s already 12:00,” I murmured, nodding toward the sign that read: “Food Court.” I can hear Chloe almost moan a low, barely audible “Yes.” She must really be tired.
We walk toward the food court, though I can sense that something is just… off. Glancing over my shoulder, I can see Chloe slowly falling behind, looking around. And then, lowering her head, only to repeat the process all over again. “Bluey, we’re walking around with designer bags. People are going to stare.”
“It’s not that… it’s just that…” she whispered, hurrying toward me. “I don’t know, Miss Ária. It seems like I wasn’t supposed to be here…”
“And you really weren’t.” I said.Chloe choked on her words. Her gaze once again dropped to the ground.
“But you are. Aren’t you? Show them you’re from around here. Even if you’re not, appearances are all that matter to those who judge by what they see. Keep your head up, sweetheart.” I murmured back. As I kept walking, I watched the effort the girl made to follow my example: head held high, back straight—even with the weight of the bags.
Eventually, we arrived at the food court. It was a spacious, well-lit place with several restaurants and fast-food joints. Large and small tables were scattered about, with some people eating like pigs and others with exaggerated grace. They were literally polar opposites. It was quite crowded and bustling, but amid the whirlwind of colors, I managed to find an empty table.
“Here… What would you like? You can put the bags on the floor.” As soon as those words came out of my mouth, Chloe practically collapsed into one of the chairs. Huffing and grumbling almost like a child, she certainly won’t be getting up for the next half hour.
“Anything. I’m not very picky…”
“Then wait here. I’ll be right back with something for both of us.”
I say this as I walk away from the table, looking at the shops and restaurants around us. Although there are plenty of options, none of them seem safe or worthy of a monster of my caliber, let alone someone like Bluey. She wouldn’t mind eating things like snake burgers and eye pizzas in the style of this country—in fact, she’s probably been eating that greasy junk her whole life. And I don’t even see a single restaurant with an Italian flag, let alone a German one. Asian food, maybe? It’s been a while since I savored a delicious temaki made with slugs and snails.
I kept walking from restaurant to restaurant, just looking at the menus on display—from the elegant glass-fronted stands in front of each one to the less-than-hygienic boards hanging right below the logo.
That’s when a small, purplish figure flitted across the corner of my eye, followed by the voice of that arrogant demon. It came from behind me, while I pretended to ignore its presence, intently studying the menu at “Monsutaa Oriental Food—Scary Delicious.”...What a horrible name.
“Well, well… I see we’ve run into each other again, Miss Garriver.”
This is getting annoying. I roll my eyes just at the thought of having to turn around and see those same dark purple eyes that haunt my mind when I’m bored to death!
“What a lovely surprise. Worthington.” I replied curtly. My smile had all but vanished, replaced by a neutral expression. And with that expression, I turned to face him.
And really. That arrogant little face is the most disgusting one I can remember. And not in a good way. A smirk, that sharp kind you see on someone who’s used to getting everything they want just by talking their way out of it. A downcast gaze—and from the looks of it, not very focused—because he doesn’t seem to be making much of an effort to look me in the eyes.
“Indeed. A wonderful surprise.” Johnny smiled, his voice so husky it sent shivers down the spines of silly little monsters. “I didn’t expect to find you here. But anyway, you and I have some… unfinished business.”
He approached; it took just one step for that typical amateur athlete’s body to be right in front of me, and for him to use one of those perfectly trimmed and filed claws to try to touch one of my curls. The movement wasn’t aggressive or particularly sudden, but my natural reaction was a growl. Loud; clear; enough to make it obvious that I didn’t like the gesture one bit.
Johnny, however, just smiled. He smiled as if it were no big deal, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. He placed both hands at head level. “Calm down, Queen. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Words alone aren’t enough for me. The first time, it was my wings, and there won’t be a second time. Try to touch me again, and I’ll rip your arm off.” I growled again. This time, more intensely—enough that nearby passersby simply began to glance at the scene out of the corner of their eyes.
“All right, all right. No need to jump straight to threats, Garriver.” The veteran took a step back from me—just two steps, but that was enough. He still had that damn smug smile on his face. “But let’s face it. We’ve gotten into a lot of fights in the few days we’ve known each other, sweetheart…”
Of course we’ve had plenty of run-ins. I don’t easily forgive anyone who touches my wings—or who dares to bring up the incident that killed my mother’s family—and on top of that, this guy pisses me off big time. Just the thought of it makes me go still for a moment, while my tail twists dangerously behind me.Johnny probably interpreted my silence as a sign that he should go on.
“... So, since I happened to run into you here, I’d like to apologize.”
“Apologies?” I replied curtly, right after he finished his sentence. I’d like to believe there wasn’t a hint of surprise in my voice. Because, wow, I’m surprised. The Worthingtons aren’t the type to apologize, and this jerk standing in front of me doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who apologizes like that. At least, not a genuine apology.
“Exactly. I apologize for how I behaved toward you that night in front of the PNK building. And at the diner, too—that was my mistake.” He said this, bowing his head only slightly and gracefully to the side, placing one hand on his chest. This guy definitely took etiquette lessons. “And… in the hope of putting an end to this little spat, I’ve also come to extend an invitation to you.”
“Go on.” I say, mimicking the nod, though a little more quickly to match the command.I can tell young Worthington hesitates for a brief second. Oh, could it be that the golden boy doesn’t like taking orders?
“As you probably already know, miss, RΩR throws one of the biggest and best private parties of the entire Rush Week.” Johnny straightened his posture. He returned to his rich-kid charm, keeping one hand near his chest, though using it to make subtle gestures as he chose his words. “Therefore, I, Johnny Worthington, President of Roar Omega Roar, personally invite you, Miss Ária V. Garriver, to one of our biggest parties of the year.”
“So, what do you say, Miss? Will you accept my apology?” The man held out his hand to me. For the first time, he was at least sure enough to do that first. But it still wasn’t enough.
“Maybe.” I replied, looking from his outstretched hand and then into his eyes. “Maybe I’ll bring a friend, maybe I won’t drink that cheap, lousy alcohol you guys will probably be drinking. Who knows?”
I shrugged. I put both hands on my hips, and I feel my tail swish. Although my answer wasn’t exactly clear, I think both Worthington and I know full well that I’m going. I’m not going to miss an exclusive, fun party, and anyway, I’d be going to Rush Week and the PNK party no matter what. So this “apology” will be a bonus.
Johnny seemed to get the message and clenched his fist. He returned to his normal posture, though he clenched his fist tighter than necessary. His low chuckle, however, distracted me from the movement.
“Perfect… See you in three days, Queen?”
“See you in three days. Буйвол,” I replied. I had already turned away, quickly moving away from Johnny. I don’t want to hear that annoying yet charming voice in my ears anymore.
“Hey, Garriver! What does that mean!?” I hear him exclaim behind me, but he didn’t sound as annoyed as he did last time. He even sounded playful.
“Why would I tell you?” I laughed. I kept walking.I could feel his gaze on my back for a few more meters, burning with such intensity that I could almost literally feel it. I don’t know what this “Johnny Worthington” is up to, but I’m paying to see. I want to know what he’s planning—whether it’s something as trivial as he is, or something that will truly surprise me. Either way, I have better things to do. Especially now that my eyes have landed on the sign for “’kogot’ Slavic and Oriental Food.” A small but familiar restaurant right on the corner of the food court. Finally, the flavors of home. I can think about parties later—I have an entire cuisine to introduce to Bluey.
