#owlscratch

She’s not a bad player by any means, Heinrix has learned. She’s still a novice, but the Rogue Trader possesses a natural grasp of tactics that he knows will serve her well as she gains more experience. Up to this point, he’s won most of their more serious games, but he can tell she’s steadily improving.

Not that he particularly cares about winning. He could be losing every game and he’d still enjoy playing with her.

In spite of his intense concentration, he can still sense her gaze on him, and Heinrix can’t help but look up. As usual, something about the way she looks at him makes his stomach flutter; a playful smirk dances at the edge of her lips, and her eyes are solely focused on him, as if he’s the only thing in the room worthy of her attention.

“Lord Captain? Is something the matter?”

“Not really,” she replies, her smile growing. “Just thinking about how adorable you look when you’re thinking hard about something.”

A blush creeps up his neck, threatening to bloom across his face. While he doesn’t need to resort to biomancy to tamp it down, he still turns away to clear his throat as he tries to retain his composure. “I’m… flattered, Lord Captain. But I would suggest you focus more of your attention to the board. Remember what I mentioned before about being aware of board state.”

The smile she wears to answer him with is almost blinding. “Of course, Master van Calox.”

It continues like this. Somehow, she can still hold her own in spite of dividing her focus between playing and conversation. Meanwhile, Heinrix slowly loses ground. At first, the regicide games were a way to both engage in something he actually liked and an excuse to spend time with her, but lately it feels as though he uses the game as a distraction from her in the middle of sessions. Selene somehow always finds a way to slip past his defenses; the way she leans forward when he speaks, the little, seemingly trivial questions she asks that somehow always gives him pause.

Damn you, von Valancius.

She’s charming, he finally admits to himself, undoubtedly so. He’s known for a while, but it’s significantly harder to resist when they’re alone together like this. Heinrix once again tries to funnel all his attention to the board; if he focuses on the game, he won’t have to think about her. And if he doesn’t think about her, he won’t think about the alluring way she looks up at him through her eyelashes, or how her hand dangles off the side of the chair in such a way that would make it so easy for him to reach over and hold.

Yet when he scrambles to take stock and behold the position of his pieces, something feels off. Hadn’t that piece been in a different square before? Was that other piece always there? He’d been distracted enough that he can’t verify his memories like he usually can; shaking his head, he makes his next move. He’s probably just still rattled by Selene’s presence.

But the inquisitorial agent’s instincts are not so easily thrown off. He keeps noticing it, pieces placed in positions that hinder his strategies, yet the differences are so slight he can’t be sure if he’s remembering correctly. It happens so gradually: something slightly shifted here, then a few turns later, something else feels off.

“Something wrong?”

His brow is thoroughly furrowed at this point. Selene’s expression is the same it ever was, unassuming yet inviting. It doesn’t look like she’s noticed anything wrong.

“No, everything’s fine. I’m just… thinking of my next move. You’ve improved quite a bit, Your Ladyship. You’re backing me into a corner.”

She smiles at him, the same smile that makes his heart race just a little faster… And yet. And yet, he can’t shake the feeling that something about it feels off.

He sits up, honed in. Turn by turn, he scrutinizes the board. Piece by piece, move by move. With the intensity he would reserve when dissecting a confession, Heinrix analyzes their game, determined to solve the mystery.

And he finds it. Selene speaks, something he only halfheartedly pays attention to, and when his eyes dart back to the table between them he sees movement, so subtle and quick he might have otherwise missed it. Heinrix’s hand shoots out, snatching his opponent’s wrist and stopping her from reaching for a piece she absolutely is not allowed to move.

They freeze, and their eyes lock. Heinrix raises an eyebrow at her. “You were not losing so badly for you to need to resort to such tactics, Lord Captain.”

To his surprise, she laughs. Her eyes glimmer with mirth, and he suddenly realizes that the two of them had been playing completely different games. “I’m flattered you think so highly of my skill level, as misguided as it might be.”

“You sell yourself short, my lady.”

“In some ways, perhaps. But in others…”

Without prompting, she begins moving the pieces. He moves to help her, assuming she intends to completely refresh the board, but is shocked once more as she recreates a board state from the middle of their game, one he assumed from before she enacted her little sleight of hand.

Selene gestures. “You caught me in the middle of my schemes, Heinrix. I would not deny you a chance at a rightful win.”

“And you will keep your hands to yourself this time?”

His tone is far from stern, amused as he is at her antics. She holds her hands up in mock surrender, palms open. “Always where you can see them, Interrogator. I promise.” She leans in, giving him a playfully accusatory look. “Though, for the record, you did let me get away with that for eight turns before you actually caught me. Perhaps you’re losing your touch.”

A woman who somehow met and then exceeded any expectations he had. An intelligent, driven woman who stood firm in the face of adversity and challenge. A beautiful, insightful woman who somehow made him forget himself, the first person in his life who tempted him over the edge of selfishness. All he had to do was jump.

No, not again. He rubs his face with his hands; combined with his lack of rest, he knows he’ll have dark circles under his eyes come morning. No matter how hard he fights, Clarmont finds himself coming back to her, again and again, like a creature underwater drawn to a light on the surface before diving back below, afraid of what it might find when it breaks through.

He can’t do this to her. He knows this, he’s told it to himself over and over. He can’t do this to himself, to the cause he’s utterly devoted himself to for years, completely unwavering, until now.

She might die, he reminds himself, and his heart would likely never recover. He could die, leaving her behind in the most unfair way possible. And given the enormity of the task, the latter seems far more likely. Better to end it now, before they’re too entangled. Better for her to be angry at him, to hate him, than to break her through grief and loss.

He believes in his cause, but Clarmont has long given up on himself. And she deserves more than a man who has nothing left to give.

It isn’t until he hears a knock on his door that he notices the slivers of light dripping in from the gap between the curtains, signaling the onset of morning. In the end, those long late hours did little for him; his resolve is no stronger than before.

The Revaire lord nods absently to his servants when they come in to help him prepare for the day; the gaunt look in his eyes is evident enough, but they know him well enough to not press. He’s handed a small bundle of letters before they bow and leave. Collapsing into a chair, he absentmindedly peruses through his correspondence. There’s a letter from Lyall; he’ll read that one later since he already has an idea of what it might say, and for once he’s not in the state of mind to entertain his friend’s fanciful notions about his bachelorhood.

And mysteriously, a letter hailing from Jiyel in handwriting he doesn’t recognize. The addressee is what surprises him; he doesn’t have any notable contacts from that particular kingdom, aside from one, and she’s here. He looks it over—it doesn’t appear trapped or dangerous in any way. Preliminary checks done, Clarmont gingerly unfurls the parchment.

[ To the esteemed Lord Clarmont of Revaire,

You do not know me, but I write on behalf of my granddaughter, Lady Octavia of House Leigong. My name is Sarantuya, and I have raised and watched Octavia grow since birth. As such, while I know she is perfectly capable of handling her own affairs most of the time, I feel obligated to speak in her favor when it comes to matters of marriage, and of the heart.

She does not speak of you often in a direct way in her letters home, but I know my granddaughter well enough to read between the lines. For a long time, Octavia has always been content in solitary endeavors; there was little that she wanted aside from the pursuit of her own goals. Her heart is not one that is easily stirred. I’m sure you can imagine how surprised I was that she spoke so highly of someone she met during her time at the summit, someone she had intentions to marry, no less.

Truthfully, I worry about my granddaughter. I worry that she will not surround herself with those that care about her. I worry that she will devote so much of herself to her ambitions that she will lose sight of other important things in life. I know as I grow older, I grow closer to a day when I cannot watch over her as I once have.

Lord Clarmont, during your time with her, I am sure you have already gleaned some things about her nature. Octavia can be arrogant and overly reliant on her intelligence. She can pour every ounce of her energy to a task to the point of obsession. She can be cold and indifferent, and care little for strangers, a byproduct of the circumstances in which she was born. My granddaughter has experienced little of the world outside her homeland through no fault of her own. It is my wish that through this summit, she will learn to look beyond the pages of her books and the walls of our small family estate.

In spite of all these things, you will find no one more capable and more devoted. Whatever your dreams are, they will become her dreams, and she will give everything she has to fulfilling them. Whatever challenge you may face, whatever obstacles you must cross, she will stand by you through it all, on her own two feet, strong and proud.

My lord, I can only hope you believe my word when I say my granddaughter is not a weak woman. She has the capacity to reach heights she herself is not aware of yet; the only thing she needs is a supportive hand. The blood of a people who have braved harsh winters, who have survived war, who wander and ride freely through endless, vast plains, courses through her veins. The same blood that runs through my veins. She is not meant to remain in a small cage of her own choosing. It is my wish that she will find the opportunity to fly, and it is my belief that you may be the one who can help her.

I cannot see the future and I will not compel you to a decision. But from what I know, I hope one day to have the pleasure of calling you my grandson. Please watch over Octavia in the meantime.

Safe journeys,

Qiyan Sarantuya of House Leigong ]

Clarmont leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as his sleep-deprived mind struggles to process everything.

My granddaughter is not a weak woman.

He knows that. He knows that so painfully well. Because in the end, he knows that he’s the weak one, and he’s never been more frustrated over it.

Maybe…

Safely tucking away her things in her backpack, Luna pushes off with a powerful kick. She speeds across the sidewalks with expert ease, casually humming under her breath even as she wheels around corners with startling velocity. Her stride never breaks even as she weaves and dodges around the poor pedestrians that are unfortunate enough to cross her path.

“Sorry! ‘Scuse me!” she hastily calls out as many of them yelp and leap out of the way.

She takes a brief pause to check the time. Two minutes until she’ll have to bear the brunt of Orion’s disapproval face for the rest of the day: better make them count.

Examining her path forward, she can already see the entrance to the hotel not too far off, but at a standard speed it would still take her at least another five minutes before she can reach it. Luna realizes she’s at the top of a slight decline; if she plays her cards right, there’s a real possibility she can make it just in time.

Still, it’s no reason to completely throw caution to the wind. There’s someone ahead of her, halfway down the hill. Their back is turned towards her, but there’s something familiar about the silhouette.

When they pause, taking out their phone and turning to face the cityscape to snap a picture, Luna recognizes them in an instant. Her lips curl into a truly devilish smile as she readies herself atop her board. Knees bent, hips steadied, she doesn’t hold back when she takes off.

Her long hair whips in the wind as she gradually gains speed racing downhill. It’s not a particularly sharp decline, allowing her to easily control how fast she’s going. Too much, and she’ll be in danger, but too slow, and she won’t get the effect she wants.

And Luna likes nothing more than to put on a good show.

She flies ever closer to the person in her way, and when she gets just close enough, she hollers out to them, “Out of the way!”

With a startled jerk of his head, Blake Winter finally looks up at her. In the brief second that occurs before their paths collide, his eyes widen in shock as he tries to leap out of the way. But she timed it perfectly: he’s too slow, and on the narrow sidewalk they’re on it’s a guarantee that she’ll crash right into some part of him.

...Until, right at the last moment, when it almost seems like they’re a hair’s width away from each other, Luna pivots the tip of her board and kicks at just the right moment. She slides around him, into the small space between him and the wall of a building next to them, and leaps onto it with her board. Her body is tilted almost parallel to the ground as she glides across the vertical surface, before she returns back to solid concrete well ahead of Blake.

When she’s safely at the bottom of the hill, slowly continuing to roll away towards her destination, she turns back to him. Their eyes meet, and Luna doesn’t hold back from laughing at his deer-in-headlights expression. It’s the most off kilter she’s seen him this entire season, and she makes it a point to relish it within his sight.

At last, she reaches the front of the hotel. Glancing at the time, she’s pleased that not only was she able to scare the shit out of Blake Winter, she was also able to make it just in time. Sure enough, she spots Orion exiting the sliding doors at that exact moment, looking down at his watch. He blinks when he sees her standing near the entrance, but at the sight of her tousled hair, her slight pant, his eyes swiftly narrow as he puts two and two together.

“Luna—”

“What? I’m here and on time,” she interjects.

He glances down at her skateboard which she’s tucked under her arm at this point. Luna plasters on her brightest, most innocent smile.

“Did you even wear your helmet?”

“Uh…”

He’s about to chastise her when something behind her catches his eye. In that span of time, Blake was finally able to reach the hotel himself. For once, he doesn’t hide behind an aloof sneer as he approaches; he’s clearly still flabbergasted when he looks at her. She smiles just as sweetly at him, with laughter thinly veiled in her eyes. She wishes she could have taken pictures of his face in those glorious moments jumping around him; she wants to remember that moment forever.

Not even caring for Orion’s presence, Blake blurts out, “Are you crazy?”

“Oh, well, hello to you too, Blake.” It’s endlessly entertaining, pretending nothing happened, trying to push him into admitting it himself. Say it out loud, she wills. Tell me to my face how I scared you shitless.

Orion’s eyes dart back and forth between them, puzzled. As if he could read her mind, Blake sets his jaw, resistant.

“No, never mind,” he mumbles.

“What do you mean, never mind? You think you can just go up to a person and call them crazy out of nowhere?” Luna scolds, enjoying herself. “Just say what you want, Blake. You’re the one who likes being honest and real, right? So tell me what the problem is.”

She’s still riding a little bit of the high leftover from her expeditious return. Luna’s gaze is unyielding as she stares him down, daring him to rise to her challenge. In that instant, she wouldn’t have even cared if there were cameras watching. If anything, it might have made for good TV.

And in a truly rare moment, the vocalist of Underground Wastebasket deflates, however imperceptibly. For the first time, Blake Winter admits defeat to her, however small and petty the victory might be. Yet, to her surprise, there’s none of the venom or cheeky derision that she might expect from him. If anything, while he’s still a bit aghast from her little stunt, there’s a hint of respect in there as well.

“Like I said, it’s nothing. Forget about it.” He shakes his head again as he slowly makes his way to the hotel doors. Under his breath, just barely loud enough for her to hear, he says, “You really are insane, aren’t you?”

When he’s gone, Luna returns her attention to her manager. Orion stares at her with a furrowed brow, and she wonders if she’s managed to avoid a lecture after all.

“You clearly have enough stickers. How old are you?”

She looks down at the sticker sheet she’s peeling apart. It’s a brand new sheet full of Misfit Alley iconography; she likes replacing the old ones on her board when they get too worn away from use. “One can never have too many stickers, Ori.” Removing one and pinning it to her fingers, she reaches up to offer it to him. “Want one?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” She slaps it over a faded remnant on her board. Its silver border glitters under the light, and Luna cheerfully resumes sticking the rest on. Orion doesn’t understand why he continues to watch her as intently as he does; it’s like he’s mesmerized by a child playing with their new art supplies.

“And to answer your question, I’m twenty-seven, thank you very much.”

“Which further begs the question of why you’re doing this,” he mutters. “You’re like a child.”

“I pay my taxes, I pay my rent and the rest of my regular bills, what else do I have left to prove?” When the sheet is finally empty, she holds up her board to admire her handiwork. “I think you should maybe have some more fun, Orion.”

“I do have fun. Maybe it’s just not your definition of fun.”

“Is it fun without caring about what other people think? Because I think you could maybe use a little more of that.”

Orion doesn’t quite understand. What she’s suggesting sounds a lot more like unbridled trouble, the last thing he wants, the last thing she could want as someone within the performance industry. He knows how to relax and enjoy himself, but he’s an adult with a reputation to maintain: it’s not like he can just let loose however he wants.

“I think you should consider what other people think a little more,” he counters. “You’re inviting trouble otherwise.”

“Orion, I’m not going out and getting high and raving it up every night. I just like being a little happy without having to think about other people first; is that so bad to want every now and then?” Luna holds up the board for him to see, giving him an earnest, relaxed grin. “See? Isn’t it pretty?”

It’s a mess, in all honesty. Just a tangled collage of haphazardly placed stickers of various items that don’t match with each other, some brand new, others so worn and faded they barely show any color anymore. Still, there’s something disarmingly endearing about how unorganized it all is; it’s easy to tell the skateboard is used and well loved.

“No,” he repeats. “It’s a mess.” But it’s lightthearted, possessing no true derision behind it, as if he’s not sure he believes the words coming out of his own mouth.

“Go right ahead. I’m sure security would be happy to sweep you off somewhere so at least you don’t embarrass yourself on the street,” he quips back, though there’s no true reprimand in his voice. Luna notices he’s more pensive than usual, nervous even.

“So… What’s up with this bar? Anything special about it?” Orion knows she doesn’t drink much, and even he doesn’t have much beyond a glass of wine most nights, so the choice of locale seems odd especially given his conscientious nature.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I maybe should have told you… It’s a private party for a friend of mine, he was just promoted and wanted to celebrate. I was invited and he mentioned I was free to bring someone if I wanted and…”

“So, you thought you wanted to bring me, the person who barely drinks more than you? To a bar? The place where people famously drink?”

He sighs. “I don’t think I’ll know a lot of the other people he invited. I’d probably know you better than I would anyone else in there so I figured… I don’t know.”

Luna can’t help but grin. “You’re making me your comfort blanket? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t put it like that. I’m not a child.”

It surprises her though, knowing that she’ll be mingling about with other people who likely know Orion in some capacity, maybe even some acquaintances and other friends, most of whom are likely going to ask questions. She and Orion… She doesn’t know what they are at this point. She’s been perfectly content to let him set the pace so far, but he’s been predictably reticent on putting a name to whatever their relationship could be. Close enough that he’ll invite her out on outings, but not enough to say out loud wherever he thinks this is going. It doesn’t particularly bother her—she knew exactly what she was getting into—though she’s sure it weighs on him from time to time.

They walk inside together, and they’re greeted by a tasteful, cozy interior lit warmly but not too brightly. Somehow, they’re not even the earliest ones here; a couple of people are already standing about with drinks in hand, making conversation. Luna, interest piqued, takes it all in.

“Have you been here before?”

“A few times in the past. It was one of his favorite spots.” He looks around. “Doesn’t seem to have changed much.”

“Orion!”

They turn to see a man around Orion’s age approach, dressed so alike in slacks and a casual button down that Luna has no doubt the two were likely in similar fields. He smiles warmly as the two shake hands, all the while throwing curious looks her way.

“It’s been ages! Can’t believe you actually made it!”

“Good to see you again too, Evan,” Orion greets warmly. “Congratulations on the promotion. I know you’ve been working towards it for ages.”

“Oh man, when I tell you what a weight off my shoulders hearing the news was… Figured it’d be great to blow off some steam and have some fun for once, get the old gang back together, you know?” The man named Evan turns to her with an eager smile, holding out his hand. “Hi, I’m Evan, the guy who invited him here, as you probably figured out.”

“Luna,” she replies, shaking his hand with a smile in turn. “Nice to meet you!”

It’s not hard to see the question in his eyes as they dart between the two of them. Luna, for the most part, almost wants to laugh seeing the gears turn in her companion’s head on how to explain.

“I’m his plus one,” she mercifully cuts in. It’s the most diplomatic way she could have put it. Vague enough to that Orion won’t feel put on the spot, but still accurate to the situation.

Evan raises his eyebrows in a mixture of both confusion and understanding. “Well, that’s great, Orion. It’s nice to see you finally branching out especially after your—”

“Thanks, Evan,” he interjects. They all know when the matter is closed, and there’s an awkward pause in the conversation before she takes it upon herself to restart it.

“So how do you two know each other?” She gives his friend a sympathetic look, a silent, first moment of connection between the two.

Thankful for her efforts, Evan easily launches into a story, with Orion offering some extra details here and there. Several minutes later and the former excuses himself as more guests filter in.

“I’ll be sure to get back to you two later. But hey, feel free to get some drinks, and hopefully you guys will be joining trivia later!”

Trivia? In a bar?

“Bar trivia was something we liked to do during school,” Orion explains as they meander deeper in. “It’s...exactly what it sounds like. You might even like it.”

“...Hold on. Did you ask me here because I look like someone who likes playing trivia?” Seeing the look on his face, she pretends to be indignant. “Orion, you tell me right now. What exactly about me screams to you that I like trivia games?”

He refuses to answer, escaping to the bar under the guise of getting something for the both of them. Luna finds a place to sit, peacefully watching others mingle, punctuated by the occasional chat. No one here seems to have recognized her, a small blessing she’ll take on any night like this. The people who stop by are friendly enough, some of whom seem to also know Orion. It’s nice to hear what they have to say about him; they had spent so much time at the start on opposite ends of the professional barriers he’d put up, she feels she has so much to catch up on.

By the time Orion returns, most of the guests had arrived, and Evan can be seen wrangling them into the first event of the night: trivia. Neither of them are able to fend him off, and before they know it they’re pulled into a large, loose group of tables encircling a space in the center. All the participants are given small buzzers—she wishes the judge the best of luck trying to pick anything out from all that noise—and Evan takes the stage.

“I’ve never been good at these,” Orion mutters. “Here we go.”

His friend situates himself amidst them all, looking a little nervous to be at the center of attention but excited all the same. “Hey, everyone! Hope you’ve had enough time to grab a bite or a drink. Let me just begin by saying I appreciate you all for taking the time to come to my little party. Being here doing this almost makes me feel like hardly any time’s passed at all since college.

“But speaking of college, a lot of you knew me back during school days, which means you know exactly what’s coming! Bar trivia was a little tradition for me during the school years, and I figured I’d bring it back tonight just so we could all relive the good ol’ days, huh?” He chuckles, joined by the crowd. “So, let’s get started! For those of you who are new to this, it’s pretty simple. I’ll ask a few questions, some of them will be open ended, others might be multiple choice. Whoever is the first to buzz in can answer; if they get it wrong, they can’t answer again and we’ll see who buzzes in the fastest next. Now, for tonight’s theme, the questions I’ll ask will be… Nerd trivia!”

Luna perks up, glancing over at Orion, who shrugs. She hunkers down, proceeding to focus her attention on their host.

“Everyone ready? Alright, first question. The Lord of the Rings movie trilogy released during the years 2001 through 2003. What is the name of the person who composed for them?”

Luna’s hand slams down on the buzzer as quick as lightning, startling Orion next to her. Evan, with bright eyes, points.

“Howard Shore!” she calls out. “It got him three Oscars, two Golden Globes, two Grammys, and a whole book written about the music.”

He laughs. “Correct! That’s a point for Luna, but unfortunately we don’t give more for the extra trivia. Next question!

“In the popular tabletop RPG Dungeons and Dragons, most characters have a score that dictates how hard they are to hit in combat. What is the name of this trait?”

Like a cat, her hand slaps the buzzer. Orion is almost in disbelief as she answers, “Armor class!”

“That is correct!”

The game continues like this, and Luna plays as if she’s fighting for her life. Something about her energy infects Orion, and even he manages to get a few answers in (mostly in other categories, which they suspect they moved into to give the other players a fighting chance). By the end, it’s clear who the winners are, their prize being some more refreshments on the house and a gift card.

“You’re terrifying,” Orion chuckles after they’ve dispersed, waiting for whatever Evan has planned next.

“Is that why you said I might like this? Because I have nerd energy?” she accuses him lightheartedly.

“I didn’t know that would be a category for the night. But… Yes. I do think you have ‘nerd energy’.” At her expression, he quickly adds, “And I mean that in the best way.”

It’s true, something about Luna’s energy and vivaciousness is truly infectious. Orion’s felt uneasy deep in the pit of his stomach for most of the night, due to no one’s fault but his own. Even when she’s not on stage, watching her always has a way of putting him at ease and pulling him out of his head when he’s in too deep. He feels present when he’s with her, something he’s been trying to work on ever since whatever this is between them had started.

Whatever this is. The source of the pit in his stomach. Orion isn’t a fool—most of the time—and he knows there’s a name for what they are, what he feels when they’re together. But after so long of staving off everything within his heart save for logic and perceived practicality, it’s like trying to work with atrophied muscles.

He just hopes she can forgive him for taking so long.

As they converse, his friend comes up to them again. “Damn, Luna, you killed it out there, I was so shocked! Remind me to never play against you in one of these.”

She chuckles. “Oh, I think you’ll be fine if it’s anything that’s not music or some nerd stuff. I think I just picked a great night to be here.”

“Music… That’s something you’re into, right? I’ve been meaning to ask, to be honest. Is that how you two met?”

They both know where this line of questioning leads, but Orion can’t think of a way to get out of it.

“Yeah, you could say that… We met through work,” Luna answers. “I’m a musician.”

“Oh damn, well no wonder he likes having you around. When did you guys meet?”

“A couple years ago. Orion, um, you could say he helped me out for a bit.”

There’s a pause, and they can tell Evan is about to simply rip off the band-aid as his curiosity gets the better of him. “Right… Listen, sorry, it’s been killing me this whole time, and if I’m out of line feel free to chew me out but are you two…?”

“Yes, Evan, we’re dating.”

What shocks them is that it’s not Luna’s voice who speaks. It’s Orion, looking warmly exasperated as he looks at his friend. Luna is rendered momentarily speechless, wondering if she heard right. Did he really just admit that out loud, so quickly?

Evan on the other hand is downright gleeful. “Hell yes! Well damn, I know it’s my party but congrats, you two! Luna, let me tell you straight up you got a good one, you hear?” To Orion, he winks and whispers, “You better watch out, my friend. I can tell you’ve got one who will not take your shit.”

He waves him away, and their host walks away, jubilant and likely to spread the news. When his eyes meet hers, he tries to brush it off with a shrug.

“What?”

It takes her a moment to find her voice. “I just… I wasn’t expecting that.”

At this, Orion relents, his face falling into something a bit more vulnerable. “I know. And I’m sorry for… all this. You deserve better and honestly, he really made me realize what I was doing, or wasn’t doing. I hope that’s okay.”

Luna’s lips smile around the straw in her mouth. “You’re spoiling me tonight. Getting me a win in trivia, now this. All that’s left now is to hear you call me your girl and then I can rest easy, at last.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” But his voice is soft and filled with warmth, and when they fall into silence a small smile graces his lips.