Amelia Grace Fujimoto is quite known to have some sort of charm to her or was it that she takes after her mother and grandmother, who have been proven to possess aesthetically pleasing visages causing her to receive interesting attention. Anyhow, whilst living alongside the beach, Ame’s had her fair share of receiving compliments when she’s out for her daily walk or when running errands for her family. She’s never the one to dismiss them, she even finds them wildly entertaining. 

Ame was enjoying some leisure time in the courtyard before her next class, she took in the crisp air and a smile grew on her face when a light breeze passed by as she was stretching. However, she felt someone staring at her and she retreated back into a hunch. Her gaze glanced around her vicinity, finding a boy with reddish, auburn hair smiling as he made his way towards her. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I could have sworn you were an angel.”

But there he stood, in the back of a small group, paddle inhand and ready to add another piece to a collection he would never display. Asmall yawn escaped him; jetlag had always been the enemy. 

So great was his fatigue that he almost didn’t notice themale that skidded to a stop next to him, all disheveled hair and concernedfurrow of a brow and what looked to be a cheap suit. Steven didn’t judge; theevent was by invite only, and if this man was invited, then he was not out ofplace. Still…

A small comb was promptly taken out from the inside pocketof his blazer, and he extended it to the male with a small grin. “It’d help youstand out less,” he whispered, leaning closer to the stranger so that his advicecould be heard over the light muttering of the crowd and the seller in front ofthem. 

“Oh, thanks.” British.The corner of Steven’s lips quirked upwards; he liked their accents. He had tooheavy a European one, too hard to place. “Do you reckon I look alright?”

He nodded, amused. He could listen to this man forever –even while the other was combing down the loose locks that flew everywhere.Must’ve been the running. “Are you late for a date, my friend?”

“You could say that – but it’s not what you think!” Thecrowd around them quieted down some, and colour immediately bloomed upon theprince’s cheeks until other conversations began again. “Sorry. Uhm – yeah, it’sa friendly date, for support. She’s one of the artists. Her boyfriend couldn’tbe here. I’m just a stand-in.”

“I’m glad,” Steven replied without really thinking, and as the other meaning sank in, so did hisembarrassment. “I – I mean, uhm…that’s – I mean, not that it’s great that you’rea stand-in, just – uh…” He laughed nervously, rubbed the back of his neck, and jerkeda thumb over his shoulder. The stranger gave an amused grin. “So do you haveanywhere else to be until you find this friend of yours, or can I steal you fora little while? To have company of my own.”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing. She hasn’t replied to me yet, anyway…”

“Ah! I’m Steven, by the way.” A hand was extended towardsthe stranger – well, not so much now, once it was shaken.

“Lukas. Lukas Radcliffe.” 

The comb was forgotten, tucked away in Lukas’ pocket, neverto be found until the night after. It was perhaps unfortunate that his friend endedup leaving before him, but Steven found that he thoroughly enjoyed Lukas’company – perhaps a little too much – and the slacks where the comb was kept wasdiscarded along with all else. The prince did not truly mind theslightly-cramped flat, or the music, or the dogs (they took very well to him,as animals often did). He didn’t mind Lukasat all, and frankly, he was glad that the feeling was mutual.