#arrangements

“Yeah, that’s it.” Drifter smiled at her and held out a long black cape with fur trim around the edges.

Eris turned and allowed him to drape the cape over her shoulders. “Is that why you have chosen four compressions? One for each letter?”

Drifter blinked a few times, his face confused. “I mean that wasn’t why originally but… it is now." He shrugged as Eris turned back to face him and he began to fasten the cloak's embroidered multi-button clasp. "Ya know… I don’t think we ever tested it. Do it now for me, lover? Get that muscle memory primed?”

“What?” It was Eris' turn to look confused.

His face was gentle as he continued. “We both know how fear can freeze a person up. Do it right now, and then you’ll have done it at least once.”

“I do not freeze in dangerous situations and neither do you.”

“But ya might freeze in a non-dangerous, social one.”

Eris tensed, sucking in a breath and frowning. “You are correct.”

She grabbed his wrist and squeezed it four times. Drifter pivoted quickly, pulling her gently but firmly by her arm out of the main room in her living quarters on Luna, into a large utility closet containing guns and ammunition.

“I do not think we had to actually move.”

“Yeah we did. Trust me on this one. It can help. And… worst case scenario, it doesn’t hurt anything to have done it.”

She slipped her arms around him and pulled him close, sighing deeply. “You are right. It harms nothing to practice. Thank you.”

Drifter leaned into her embrace and turned his head so his face was in her hair. “You still nervous about the book?” he asked, delighting in how close she felt against him through the thin silk of his shirt.

“Yes, but I have now spent the past two days working on it and am just grateful it is done. I’ve wrapped it in my iconography and bound it with charms. Neither are needed for any form of protection from its contents, but I suspect it will help the anxieties of those who are… more superstitious… and Ikora did say it… was a good idea."

Drifter nodded, lifting the hood of Eris' cloak up to cover her hair. Her usual course bandage for her eyes had been replaced with a soft black cloth. Her paracausal tears still streamed down her cheeks, and her three green eyes still glowed brightly behind what, on a normal person, might be a blindfold, but Eris otherwise looked entirely unlike the strange angry chitin-covered woman from the Moon.

"Caiatl values utility," Eris continued. "The gift is useful and, while its contents are neither unique nor original… and all the information could, in theory, be pulled from my reports within the Vanguard archives… having it all in one place as a reference, and, in particular, a reference created by my hand… should ensure it is both symbolic and relevant.”

“Makes sense." Drifter slid both his hands along Eris's sides to her un-armoured waist, delighting in doing something normally impossible outside of very intimate moments. Eris' eyes brightened briefly and her lips parted slightly. "Not gonna lie," he said softly, leaning his face inside the hood of her cloak, "This is kinda fun."

"It feels almost… lewd."

He paused and leaned back, pulling his hands away from her. "Good lewd or bad lewd?"

She smirked and wound her gloved arms around his neck. "Good lewd."

His eyes glittered and he pressed himself up against her. "Fancy clothes do have some nice benefits," he purred in her ear. "Whole lot less to take off at the end of the night."

"Hmmm…"

"Or to just lift up an' shove out of the way in a dark enough alley."

Eris fingers gripped his hair tightly. "Absolutely not," she snarled.

He laughed and brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "Got your knives and your other knives?”

Eris relaxed and leaned against him. “I do, although I question if it is wise to attempt to openly contravene the rules in this matter.”

“Drifter’s been frisked lotsa times." He stepped away from her and opened the closet door for them to leave. "Give ‘em something to find and they'll feel all smart and like they accomplished something. Far easier to get them to assume they got everything than to show up with nothing and make 'em feel nervous that you're just better at hiding things than they are at findin' 'em. Plus, even if they do find the other knives, which I doubt, you’ll still have your glow ball. No way in hell they’re takin' that away. Still, we should bring the ball-bag just in case.”

“They had better not try.”

“If they do, all you need to do is flash your eyes and do that scary floating in the air thing and that should scare the shit out of them sufficiently to back the fuck off. Shindig like this'll have regular grunts for security at the door. Easy to scare off. What are they gonna do? Tell you not to come? Ha! Empress will love that.”

Eris sighed. “I would love that."

"I mean at that point we'll be all dressed up with nowhere to go. Seems like the sort of thing we could both have a lot of fun with. Maybe we should try harder to get ourselves tossed out of the fancy party, huh?" He pulled her tight against him once more and nuzzled the side of her neck as they both reveled in the novel sensation of only two thin layers of cloth between them somewhere that wasn't a bed.

"Hmmm… I do not think we shall be so lucky." She murmured in his ear, smiling as his eyes unfocused and she felt him shudder from the heat of her breath. "Do you have your… leash?”

It was the Drifter's turn to sigh, pulling away from her. “Yeah.” He unbuttoned his left shirt cuff to show her the blinking bracelet half-way up his arm which was hidden by the billowing design of the sleeves. “Fuckin’ spies.”

“I doubt there is a listening device within it. It is clearly to track you.”

He shook his head as he re-buttoned the shirt around his wrist. “I wouldn’t put it past Ikora to be listening in… probably put in a shock collar too just in case.”

Eris pulled him into a quick kiss which he leaned into and prolonged into a longer one.

“Thank you for doing this for me. I know how much you hate it.”

“Not as much as I’d hate sitting on my ass while you needed someone to be there for ya. Besides, fancy party like this? Dinner should be top of the line. I bet they’ll have those platters with the crackers and the whatsits on them.”

Eris tilted her head. “The… whatsits?” She summoned her glowing orb to her hand from across the room. It floated through the air and then stopped just inches from her gloved fingertips.

“Little bites of food they serve at fancy parties. Snacks. Like beer and pretzels, but for snooty people. Because this thing is so snooty they’ll be real small. The fancier the thing is, the smaller the snacks. It’s some sorta weird rule. I do hope they have the whatsits. I love eatin' that shit.” He pulled on his coat as he spoke but left his usual multiple belts behind. Out of habit he attempted to tuck his hand cannon into the waistband of his pants only to discover that the new clothing configuration would not hold it there. After a brief fumble he opted to put the gun into one of his coat pockets.

“Hmmm… I am curious." Eris idly traced black satin fingertips along her Ahamkara bone's soulfire-bound edges. "Point the… whatsits… out, if they have them, so that I may better understand what it is you are referencing.”

“Oh I’ll be pointing them out all right.  I’ll be pointing them right into my mouth." He winked. "You ready to go?”

Eris nodded. “As ready as I shall ever be.”  She picked up a large, cloth wrapped book.

“Hey,” he said gently as he took her hand and slipped black satin rope connected to a green velvet bag over her wrist.

“What?”

“You really do look great.”

Eris paused, her body language uncertain. Then she took a breath and stood up straighter. “Thank you. You look… genuinely attractive.”

He tilted his head and grinned at her. “Yeah, grubby Drifter cleans up real nice. Feels so wrong. Probably almost as wrong as you feel all cute in that dress. Ya are cute though, and ya still look wickedly dangerous too. I still maintain you’ll look fuckin’ hot in red but black suits you real well, Moondust.”

“Thank you.”

Drifter folded up a long green silk scarf and stuffed it into another coat pocket. 

“All right, Crota’s Bane, that's all the things.  Lets go be pretty and diplomatic and fancy as fuck.”