“What do you want to drink, Mykie?” the Arielna asked, rising from his seat to stand near the bar cart behind him with a glass in hand.
“Just a smoke, Erith. I’m going sober this time.”
“You feeling okay?” His black eyes blinked in surprise while he huffed out a laugh.
“Yeah.” She jerked a pointed thumb in my direction. “This is my buddy’s female. I have to get her back to him with both of us in okay shape or he’ll have my head.”
There it was again, me being described as “Graysen’s”. Despite having assigned the label to myself internally, it was still jarring to hear it from someone else’s mouth. Had Graysen told her that we were together? He’d referred to me as “his” to Theo in a passive way, and certainly had claimed ownership behind closed doors during ouractivities, but this felt far more official. Instead of being gifted an affectionate pet name when speaking to a friend or exchanging dirty talk in the privacy of our home, I was being formally introduced as belonging to him. And that association was being tied to consequences—mandating Mykie’s sobriety. How definite.
“Anyone we know?” the Lychan asked, taking the hand of cards the Quadmos held out.
“Nah.” She shook her head. Nowthissurprised me. I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. Graysen and Mykie were practically family. This group didn’t know about him at all?
“Frankly, we didn’t expect your plus one today to be a female,” the Arielna snorted. “You sure yourbuddyisn’t a coverstory? This isn’t a date, is it? I’ve never seen you invite anyone anywhere.”
The Lychan scoffed. “Mykie couldn’t score a piece of ass like that.”
“Colmar!” the Quadmos called Ragen scolded. “Have some manners in front of my guest.”
The Lychan quietly growled and took a swig from a tin pint.
Everybody patiently waited while Ragen explained the game to me. There were forty-five cards in a deck. There were eleven Lychans, eleven Sirens, eleven Mercurians, eleven Pyrans, and one dragon. The goal was to collect as many pairs as possible while passing one card around the table at a time, always holding a pair of two by discarding and replacing your card of choice every round. Different pairs were worth different amounts of points. The person with the most points at the end wins. Simple enough, right?
To say I was bad at this card game would be an understatement. I lost epically and repeatedly, the pace allowing little room for me to get my bearings and improve. Ragen kept a scoreboard behind him to note each victory; the individual with the fewest wins had to cover a shift from whoever had most wins. Thankfully, this meant there was no point in adding my abysmal score to the tracking system—nobody would be asking to trade work shifts with me.
I watched as another mark was added under Mykie’s name. “What is it you guys do?” I had never asked out of respect for her privacy, but curiosity got the better of me.
“We work security,” Ragen answered quickly and factually. His tone didn’t invite questions.
Security. I knew Mykie’s job was on the down low, stressful, and best left undiscussed. My theories leaned more toward drug dealing or some sort of sex work.Securityseemed too simple. But I supposed while glancing around the room that it made sense, I wouldn’t mess with a single soul there. Still, I felt I was missing something.
Before I could inquire for more details, the subject quickly changed to the health of Ragen’s mother. Colmar and Erith discussed plans to bring her some home-cooked food and comfort supplies while she was ill, the kindness of their words at odd contrast with the blankness of their expressions. I was the only one nodding my head, twisting my brows in acknowledgement of the morbidity of her situation, and offering understanding half smiles. This group clearly cared deeply for each other, but didn’t seem to express empathy the same way I did.
A new round of Doors started. My eyes lifted to the marked board, totaling twenty-one lines scratched under their collective names. Colmar noticed my crestfallen expression, leaning back to peek at my hand and passing me the card I needed to complete a pair. It was the push required to not place last that round, and I shot him a grateful smile and saw his ear twitch, a subtle “you’re welcome”.
Thanks to Colmar’s assist, Mykie came in last. She slammed her hand onto the table and scowled. “There goes my ‘no losing’ streak of the year.” The room seemed pleased about that as she pushed her chair back and excused herself to the bathroom.
“She’s a firecracker,” Ragen chuckled, unbothered by her sour change in attitude.
“Just how you like ‘em.” Erith teased.
Ragen didn’t reply, instead opting to pour himself another drink and shuffle the deck of cards while Colmar and Erith discussed dinner plans.
Mykie strode back in with her dignified expression returned and on full display. “Another game, boys?”
“One more,” Ragen smiled gently at her. It occurred to me that I’d never seen someone look at Mykie with softness. People were friendly, teasing, blunt, flirty, and aggressive with her. Even Graysen, who treasured her as his closest confidante, maintained sharp edges when they spoke. It was nice to see someone who didn’t exclusively treat her like a force to be reckoned with, even if that was her chosen identity.
“Are you new to town, Faeryn?” Erith asked me as we all focused on the cards before us.
“Pretty new,” I said slowly, keeping my attention on my hand, determined to place decentlyone timewithout someone stepping in to help.
“Where are you from?” Colmar asked.
“Conirva,” Mykie interjected quickly.
“I have a cousin there,” Colmar said. “Did you know a Ragna? She looks like me only hairier.” He let out a howl of laughter. Was that an insult in Lychan culture? It seemed kind of appropriate for the species.
“Where are you staying now?” Erith asked.
