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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4


Khcenac and Several of his Relationships

Part 3 - The Shoal

Khcenac part 3

Khcenac announced to the table, "I want to show myself off."

"He wants to show himself off," Matt said to Vizkathla in Common, bridging the language gap. He was currently leading in the poker game, but not by a lot-- only a few credits above the low-stakes buy-in. The makeshift game of Space Texas Hold'em had gone on half an hour already, filling the common area outside Dorms with the sound of bluffing and gloating.

Atchki leaned forth, setting down his hand of cards face down, as he looked over Khcenac inquisitively. "Good pocking place to start'd be your profile on the app! Viz got his all filled out, yours's still blank."

"True!" exclaimed Khcenac, leaning back a bit to hide his pocket aces, and speaking in Pidgin. "I actually want to ask Viz for advice on making myself obvious and known."

'It'd help if you had a description of what you like,' Viz signed. Then, he knocked on the table, indicating check. 'Or what you are like.'

"There's some movie with that line!" Atchki exclaimed, as he knocked on the table to check as well. Then, with all the fluidity of a deer getting hit by a truck, he turned to Matt and tried his best to code-switch to Common once more. "Uh, some movie with line, 'what you like, or what you are like'."

Matt shrugged. "Uh... Dirty Dancing, maybe?" He laid down a few chips to call.

"My bet's on pocking Escape from New York."

Khcenac just tilted his head, amused. "What?" Trying to feign a lack of interest in the hand, he tossed his chips forth.

'They're talking about shitty Earth movies,' Viz signed, giggling softly. The turn having come back to him, he slid his money forth, curiously looking around at the table.

Atchki raised in showy fashion, tripling the bet and raising his head with pride. "They aren't pocking shitty Earth movies. They're free pocking shitty Earth movies. NT has the legacy archives all cool and free."

Matt squinted at his cards. The look in his eyes was one of lackluster effort, something Khcenac was keen enough to spot, but for whatever reason, Matt forced out some interest and called the hefty bet. "They're hundreds of years old. Obviously they're shitty. Viz probably has better taste than us. Uh, call, by the way."

"Call?" Vizkathla smirked with his mandibles. "You don't have anything, though."

"I have plenty!" the human said in protest. But the bug was too good a read, and Matt groaned, giving up the effort.

Khcenac had remained quiet. He needed to keep them in a little longer if he wanted to really win this hand... provided pocket aces were even good enough. They felt good. He couldn't much remember the rules of which cards won, but four of the five cards were already face up-- that meant it was go-time. Finally, he spoke in an exasperated tone of Tradeband. "My hand is very quite lackluster, but I believe that your hands are all similarly lackluster-so. If you desire to prove me wrong, then you shall stay in with such a hefty raise-bet, but else I believe that it's time for this hand to reach its foregone conclusion without another word." He picked up about half of his money and tossed it into the pot-- quintupling the previous bet from Atchki.

'What?' signed Viz, giggling softly. He was next in the turn order, and wasn't sure how to read Khcenac.

Again, Matt translated, with an amused little chuckle. "He's saying he has good cards. Pretty sure he's trying to one-up me."

The Insectoid paused a moment, then glanced at Khcenac, then glanced back at Matt. The bug and the bird had invented a lot of ways to communicate to each other quietly. He said, in a soft form of Common, "One-up what? Your cardz are zhit."

"Oh yeah?! Then what are your cards, huh?"

"Not good enough for me to ztay in on thiz little one-on-one, eheh." He flopped his cards down face-up, revealing a Jack and a Queen, both of Spades.

Atchki gave a smirk with his cheeks at both Khcenac and Matt, who were now staring each other down in dueling formation. "You better fold, little pockin' interloper, else you're losin' your two credits to Khcen. I believe 'im. He was too pocking genuine with that spiel!" He folded with his cards down, leaving just two remaining in the hand.

"Well?" asked Khcenac, leaning forth, his eyes fierce. "You aren't so very foolish as to stay in, are you? There's no hope but to falter in the face of a rather excellent hand. My raw prowess has already eliminated your competition. Cut your losses, dear Matthias." Under the table, he gave the man a playful kick against the leg-- a classic trick to lower his guard.

But the goading had only tilted Matt further, and he took a deep breath. "I don't think you actually have anything in your hand, Khcen. And if you plan on staying in this game, you back off." He slid forth an absolutely stupid number of his chips, roughly equivalent to what Khcenac had in his pile at all. The message was clear: get out of the hand, or go all in.

There was no turning back for the human. Khcenac had all the control left in the game. "I have pocket aces, my dear friend, and I believe you've made a mistake unlike anything else."

"No you don't." Matt scowled. "You're going to fold."

"You ready for the lazt community card?" Viz asked. "Iz Khcenac calling?"

He smirked with his cheeks. "Yes," he said, and he slid forth every single chip in his pile, a grand total of ten credits' worth.

The moment was beautiful. Matt bit his lip. Viz pulled a card from atop the deck, dealt it face-up beside the others, to reveal an Ace of Diamonds. Khcenac could barely hold his excitement. He threw down his hand to reveal a full house of aces and eights, and a flabbergasted Matt threw down his hand to reveal... a four and an eight.

"Well, shit," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Shit for you!" Khcenac laughed, pulling in the pile of cash to his end. "Next time, believe the very quite un-blufflike plays I make in such an effort as to goad you!"

Atchki sat back, impressed. "Was pretty sure you didn't actually have shit, Khcen."

The bird was very, very self-satisfied. He flicked a few chips between his hands as Viz collected cards and began to shuffle. "...Anyhow. I believe I was very too much caught up in my extraordinary hand to continue the discussion from earlier adequately. If I were to improve my profile, and rather well advertise myself, where shall I begin?"

"He wants to know how to advertise himself on his profile," Matt translated, begrudgingly fumbling with his half-credit's worth of chips. "Viz?"

Vizkathla hummed. Once he had shuffled the deck, he paused a moment to sign, while the rest of the table threw in ante. 'I dug up some pictures of back when I was unemployed and traveling. Makes me look wacky and interesting, I think.'

"Pictures, eh?" Atchki said, intrigued. "Dunno if Khcen'd even pocking show up, given the... vampire shit."

"Ex-vampire!" Khcenac called out, in protest.

Matt joked, "Poker game with exes and ex-vampire."

Atchki grinned widely, laughing out, "The pocking ex-crew, eheh."

Viz just continued signing. 'Maybe pictures of you being... you! Romantic, kind of mysterious, maybe... making breakfast in a big apron.'

"D'aw." Kchenac chittered softly to himself, then continued in Tradeband. "Er, he's saying I should have pictures of myself being, ah, rather quite like myself, in such scenarios where my peculiarisms are my image, rather than the surprises of a first date."

"Hey, I liked those surprises," Matt laughed. "But, yeah, that'd probably be smart. I guess I've always imagined you as, like, a little bit of a seductive dude, so..."

Atchki poked a claw into the human's chest. "You pocking met him because you wanted to get your dick wet! Obviously you think he's seductive."

Matt shrugged, flush red. "Hey, don't be an ass."

After squinting between the two of them for a while, Khcen glanced back at Viz to translate into Pidgin. "They think I should be seductive."

'Romantic-seductive.' Vizkathla signed. 'I'm thinking, like, the cover of a romance novel.'

"Cover of a romance novel?" Khcenac said in Tradeband, turning back to ask the bickering two.

His bigger bird counterpart let out a hacking laugh. "Pocking perfect!"

"Yeah, that's the right idea," Matt chuckled. "Actually, I might... I might tangentially know a website that could help you out with that."

"Oh no," Atchki uttered. Another Matt idea.

Khcenac leaned in near the human, curious. "...Is this the website your PDA always had a tab open of?"

"N-No!" Matt stammered, grimacing. "...Yes."

"Hmm..." After a moment pondering, Khcenac decided he might as well probe further. "Pictures with erotic imagery taken in a studio setting. I imagine the person or persons who run it are inevitably of the sour type, else without so much advertisement of their intentions betraying a positive intention. However, the base idea of it has some intrigue and potential in my mind. It may be just what I need-- displaying my sexual and forthcoming side where it was coincidentally discovered for you and not applicable for Viz!"

"I dunno about that shit, Khcen, you're gonna put your pocking nudes online?" Atchki laughed incredulously at the notion. "It's a dating app, sure, but..."

Khcenac shook his head thoughtfully. "Cropped! To end just the slight bit before my very most naughty of parts, or perhaps censored gratuitously. And at least half the images should be in pure and celibate contrast-- a thoughtful image atop a balcony with a coffee cup, or offering a hand to the camera atop a ferris wheel..."

"Uh, well, I don't know if that site actually has the resources for all that," Matt said. "Pretty sure it's just one person with, like, maybe a few other cameramen. But I could get you in touch, pull a favor or something."

"Favor?" Atchki exclaimed. "What kinda bullshit have you done online?!"

"Nothing crazy!" the human retorted, defensively folding his arms. "I just pay for the really expensive subscription."

As the bigger Vox sighed disapprovingly, Khcenac nodded, finally content in the idea. He turned to Viz. "I'm going to get myself looking professional online. No more blank gallery!"

'Yeah, uh, I'll help you touch up the rest, too.' The bug smirked knowingly. The poor Vox's online literacy was... less than great.

Matt slid over his PDA to Khcenac, displaying an unfinished email he'd seemingly written up in five seconds. "Fill out what your email is and I'll have 'em reach out to you, shitbird."

As Vizkathla began to deal out another hand of cards, Khcenac tapped in his details, pecking the letters on the PDA's keyboard one by one. Once finished, he slid it back to Matt, displayed a self-satisfied smile, and nodded. "This is going to work out just splendidly."

...

"This is less splendid than expected."

The vibrating whirr of the space taxi rang like tinnitus, clouding the air. The benches on either side of the tiny metal room were hardly a comfort, and Khcenac sat with his talons clutching the floor a bit for traction. Matt looked at him from across. "Yeah."

The bird squawked, "I mean, are you all so certain that this website-friend of yours is taking up shop at the Shoal? Really?"

"Yeah!" the man exclaimed, laughing softly. "Probably. I've been here a couple times-- once before. To the Shoal, I mean. There's so much space, I think it's just where people... Vox, do their business. And the guy that runs that website is a Vox."

"Well, I don't do my business there." Khcen scoffed, folding his arms. "Perhaps I've simply been missing on the opportunity, but I dislike the idea of an air so very filled with Pidgin."

Matt stared, a little flabbergasted. "Wow. You hate a language so much that you don't want to be around it?"

"Yes! Well, no. That's leaning into exaggeration, ha." Khcenac took a short breath. "But I really do not entirely enjoy the company of my kind in their most well-known habitat. I've been catfished and sold snake oil simply too many times from those types, and I like Vox perfectly well elsewhere."

The human nodded. "You don't have to stay long. We'll just get flown right to this guy's place, and you can call a taxi back for yourself."

"Mnn." The Vox bit down his beak a bit. "...I just very much do hope this Vox isn't scummy."

"I mean, he takes and uploads porno pictures." Matt chuckled. "You wearing the SPS thing?"

"As comfortably as one could hope, eheh." Khcenac motioned down at his ankle, displaying a strapped object under his tight pants. "If a thing goes wrong, Shoal maskbirds will flood with so very violent intention, and shoot... perhaps both of us, I would guess." He laughed softly.

"Wouldn't be so sure. I've seen pictures of those maskbirds on this guy's site." The man smirked. "But seriously, good. I don't want you getting serial killed."

"Quite appreciated." Khcen sat back further as the conversation hit a pause, and let the incessant hum of the space taxi fill the air a while. It was an odd enough moment. Even with the little porthole windows, it felt like an incredibly isolate experience. Faced with nothing but the company of his ex, the bird eventually spoke up. "...Ah, well. I suppose I was wondering how you, yourself, have been holding up in this time. We spent some months without speaking after... and, well, my intuition is to ask."

Matt nodded. "Um... good. Good, overall. I've been holding up okay, things are fine with the job, and Nanotrasen hasn't come in to give any of Security any shit, so everyone's happy with that."

"And, if it isn't so very frustrating to be asked... your forays with Vox?"

"On hold." The man took a sharp breath. "But... better than when we talked about it last. I've been able to do a lot of soul-searching and... figuring it all out. I've been trying to start small. Like, here--" He reached over to his satchel bag and turned it over, revealing a small laminated pin with a multicolored, rainbow flag on display. "I got a pride pin."

Khcenac furrowed his brow. "A pride pin? Matt, you live and exist on the gayest station in Nanotrasen's arsenal. I don't believe there's a soul onboard without that attraction, if you recall that census the Captain made."

"I know, I know," Matt chuckled, going flush, "but, uh, small steps help."

"That's understandable enough." The bird nodded and sat back, amused at the man's little efforts. "And... I understand all the sorts of reasoning that may have led you to needing a cut contact, even though that particular subject was not on our docket for discussion."

He responded quickly. "I just needed space." The flush amusement went a little bittersweet, a little forlorn. "I'm... glad I went back to talking to you, but it might've ended up that we didn't. I was really unsure at first."

Khcenac looked at him deeply. "All things said and done, I believe it would have been perfectly alright to have your speaking severed with me."

"Yeah." Matt swallowed. "Not everyone's meant to know each other forever if dating doesn't work out. But I think, you know, given some time, I'm gonna be alright with having shitbirds in my life." From that bittersweetness came a more resolute, firm grin. "And, shit, I missed Atchki."

"He has a boyfriend now, you know."

"I don't mean like that!" The man sunk in embarrassment, grimacing. "Khcen, you're an ass."

The bird swooned dramatically, his cheeks spread in a wide beam, amused as hell. "If work with this cameraperson goes off well, I'm certain I will be able to show to the naysayers that I have an ass, indeed."

"Sure." Matt folded his arms and just shook his head. What a strange shitbird.

As the space taxi swerved, something came into view through one of the portholes-- a gigantic, planet-sized mass of crashed-together ships, giant container clusters, and intertwined branches of metal hallways and prefab rooms. It dwarfed Luna Station, and, hell, it even dwarfed Luna. Khcenac spotted it first, and his beak jawed open a bit in amazement from the sheer scale of the thing. "--The Shoal?"

Matt looked back through the window and nodded, chuckling at the bird's raw amazement. "Yep, that's the Shoal."

"It's rather obnoxiously huge, isn't it?!"

"Big enough to have its own gravitational pull. Big enough to pay off Nanotrasen to allow its own existence. Crafty shitbirds."

Khcenac shook his head in amazement. "Crafty does not begin to describe this. Your Tradeband has clearly found itself lacking without my presence, Matt-- this place looks like a masterful bellyful of scum."

Incredulous, the man looked back. "What does that even mean?"

Before he could explain, there was a sliding movement from the front of the taxi, as the viewplate was opened to the cockpit. A formidably-built shortstack Grey called back from inside, "We're here in a minute, just gotta find the dock you told me to."

"Thank you!" Khcen said.

Gravity could certainly be felt from up in the Shoal's near orbit, even with a healthy helping of the ship's own pull. Along with that, there seemed to be some kind of atmosphere-- not one of gas and moisture, but one of orbiting debris and trash, which pelted the front of the taxi in loud pitter-patter as they approached a touch-down point somewhere across the makeshift planet's surface. Matt held tight to the padded bench as the ship rumbled, and Khcenac took an excited breath. As awful as he'd heard this place to be, he was finally going to his tangential homeland! So many of his favorite, esoteric romantic tales took place between scumbags in the dark tunnels of the Shoal, rather than pretty darlings living in Nanotrasen's outlands.

Matt took a short breath. "Well, okay. I guess, good luck." He stood up, and Khcen followed after, displaying a warm expression.

"You as well. Ah, I'll see you quite soon, though, so ought not worry." The bird stood taller than the man, and thus when he stepped forth, his hug was all-enveloping. Matt croaked a little in protest, then settled into the- rather platonic- hug. Khcen quickly broke away, mussed Matt's hair, and approached the back of the taxi, where the airlock was de-locking.

Within a few more seconds, the humble little vessel touched flooring, and the back door opened wholesale. Khcenac began to step out, but there was a call from the cockpit. "Hey, which one of you's paying?!"

"Uh," Matt stammered, but Khcenac quickly walked back.

There was a certain excitement in him, as he forked over ten credits for the trip there, and ten credits for Matt's return trip. It was unclear at first, until he gloated, "There go my splendid poker winnings, eheheh."

The human rolled his eyes and scoffed. "You're a lucky shitbird, and I hope you're ready to get rocked next time."

"Perhaps I should cut my losses, and there won't be a next time. I simply cannot lose if I don't play." Khcenac was chittering in mad amusement as he stepped off into a wide-open hangar, with stale, rough-feeling air, warmer than was comfortable.

"Cheat."

"Weirdo."

Matt scrunched up his cheeks, taking in a breath. The airlock between them began to close. "...See ya soon, bird."

"You as well, skinface."

There was a half-muffled, "What?" heard through the metal door as it shut. Then, as if it felt the terrible pull of the Shoal and was eager to get out, the space taxi pushed off the ground in a hurry and began to soar out of the hangar through a wavering holo-field.

Oh, the air! Oh, the grating, grating air, tasting a tad like the presence of Vox would never, and could never, leave every bit of particulate. As Khcenac glanced around, a grin plastered on his cheeks, dozens and dozens of birds shuffled around, hefting cargo to and fro and disembarking shady-looking vessels with half-functioning engines. This ex-vampire, suited up in his Dracula garb, flourishing a flowing cloak with blood-red underside, was simply a fashion standout all on his own.

Well, at least, he considered himself as much. Not a person in sight paid him mind. This wasn't the place to be swindled or sweet-talked, simply a landing for those who had some resident in the Shoal to visit. Still! Khcenac felt lovely. He unfolded a map printout, took in a determined breath, and began his wander.

A grand place, made not by design but by happenstance. Khcen passed by toppled vending machines formed into doorways, hallways made of rotted container steel extending into the who-knows. The main corridors were lit in a sickly fluorescent white, while the offshoots- and the offshoots felt endless!- bathed themselves in amber overhead light, like that of olden street lamps. He witnessed a line of six or seven Vox businessmen escorted by a human with one missing eye, all wearing slimebag two-piece suits, and he witnessed everything below that presumable head of the totem pole, all manner of shady folk, all sort of unknowns. Gas-mask-wearing guards towered over the rabble, Vox clothed in what looked like armor from a far-off war tied together with leather straps. Khcenac tried to keep his head down, until he realized he liked that sensation of gloating, flaunting his intimidating garb and keeping his spirits high.

That was some rule of Shoal Vox-- not to mess with those who looked like they knew where they were going. And although Khcenac was only a wrong step or two from being lost, the low-detail map and a sense of determination pressed him further through the endless connected areas.

At last he found the airlock leading into a nitrogen-filled section of the Shoal, and soon after the environment became considerably more warm and inviting, at least in the sense of being cramped and sprawling. Someplace in-between a favela and walled-in city, this place was the hub which held his final destination. Khcenac braced himself tightly as he swept past sleeping frazzled Vox and piles of used up autoinjectors, strolled through hung-up chains of beads and rags, and finally came to an unassuming polymer and plexiglas door, marked 65-PICVOXXX.SHL.

Two knocks, and twenty seconds, and the door slid open.

Facing Khcenac, and standing a head and a half lower than him, was a Vox. The bird was thin, almost underweight, hunched over with a worried and meek look on his face, eyes guarded by thin-rimmed glasses that bridged across his beak. His muddy-green quills were mussed up like he'd showered without anything to treat them. Khcen's rather imposing demeanor was in sharp contrast.

For a moment, the two just looked at each other. Then, Khcenac spoke up first. "Good evening! If you recall from our brief correspondence, I am formerly of vampiric affliction. Thus, you'll have to invite me in."

"Ehhh... heh, r-right, because, the Dracula costume." The littler bird chuckled, stumbling partly over his words, and lisping on many of his consonants. "Come in."

Khcenac stepped inside, and the short Vox shut the door behind him. The interior was rather spacious-- a wide and inviting space with a high ceiling, containing a photo studio, living space, kitchenette, and all sorts of small amenities it'd been ages since Khcen had experienced. The lighting was warm, inviting, dim in most places, and the air had been spared at least some from the Shoal's uncomfortable energy. "It's nice to greet you, strange website-runner."

"Ehah." The bird chuckled, if only to break a bit of discomfort. "Yeah, it's nice to, um, meet you. I didn't... catch your name, though, uh, earlier."

"Khcenac. Like the bee." He bowed his head slightly in greeting.

A moment passed as the Vox pondered, and then his eyes went wide with sudden remembrance. "Right! Ah, that's obscure! The bee from the graphic novel, ha."

Khcen grinned with his cheeks. "I'm surprised you know that! It's a quite-- as you said, obscure piece of media, especially between our kind. I suppose I had you pegged for a tad bit of a nerd, however, given that you run such a salacious website."

"Ehhh... pegged me right, I-I guess." The bird glanced off, and his quills floofed out. "I'm Hitchixata. Um... more, uh, dignified online, so I like being there."

"Comfortable, perhaps," Khcenac uttered, giving a sly smile, "but you remain altogether dignified at this moment. I, personally, feel most at home in the company of others, whether over air-waves or not."

Hitchixata took a moment to think. He had a little tic, where he'd clap his beak softly together, glancing off. It happened when his bird brain was considering something big. "I'd like... to, uh, be better with people. They're nice when it's easy." His lisp was incredibly endearing, and prevalent in nearly every word. It muted his voice down, but not out.

"Ah, when it is easy, that blissful sign of life! Yet the struggle is what makes those easy moments so dear and delectable."

"Y-Yeah," the bird stammered, displaying a subtle smile on his cheeks, "that's true. It's kind of corny, but true."

Khcenac chittered, coming off the wall. "Ah. Speaking of quite corny things, this is a nice establishment. Your home, in part, as well as your workspace?"

Hitchixata nodded. "For people that w-want kind of professional-looking stuff. I'm not a-an expert or anything, b-but I try to be respectful, you know?"

"A good trait." The larger bird stepped out, examining the room further. In a past life, it may have been one third of an aircraft hangar, now melded into the Shoal with the rest of the metal rabble. It was the living space of a bird who was calm, small. Unlike some, Hitchi was happy about being harmless. It made his life simpler. "I had not, in fact, visited your website before this visit, but I know that it is typically pay-to-access. The pictures, ah-- I don't desire for any of them to be made so public."

The Vox squawked softly. "Oh, no, uh... th-that's not something I do without all kinds of consent. You're asking me to just do this for your... for an app, right?"

"Yes! A dating app, for the station platform in which I live. Nanotrasen."

"Huh, ahah, well, odd." The bird gently rasped his beak in confusion. "Really?"

Khcenac beamed and turned back to face Hitchixata. "Yes, indeed! An odd fact for such an establishment, but... our station has had a recent come-up, and we're rather differing from what I suppose Nanotrasen has in mind." He felt his hand against the bed. "Soft linens!"

"Recent come-up, aahh..." The Vox rubbed the back of his head. "...Luna Station? Right? You took in Stetikekiak, from here? Think I've heard a little from places."

"Yes, we do have a former Raider aboard our station, who has brought our rather transformative change." He leaned against a wall near the entrance. "You received the details of what I'd like to photograph?"

Again, Hitchixata nodded. "You can, ah, use my kitchen for some of them. A-And the photo studio bed for the others. Only whatever, um, you're comfortable doing."

"I'm rather fit to begin with the most difficult part." He backed up slowly towards the photo studio. Now, his expression was a little sly, sultry-- displaying intention, raw intention. He began to unbutton his fancy vest. "Are you?"

The littler Vox nodded, taking a shaky breath. "Ah... not less than usual."

"I shant ask you to compliment my features, or anything," Khcen affirmed, as he sat on the bed, and further undressed, sliding his belt off and onto the bed. "I'm certain your... ah, assumed girlfriend would not like such."

Wordlessly, Hitchixata approached. His expression became guarded, but he nonetheless began to do his job, setting up a camera on a tripod. He only spoke to clarify details. "You're, um, going to lead this? O-Or I could tell you what other p-people usually ask to do, position wise. What's, um, popular."

Khcenac did not respond with a direct answer. Instead, he squawked as he pulled down his tight pants only a little of the way, and thus made clear his form. Hitchixata's eyes remained stone cold on his face. Finally, Khcen spoke. "I have no issue leading. I don't desire to completely undress, simply to show off, ah... the sanguine appearance. I'd like my demeanor to say, I am capable and willing to fuck you. I am waiting for you to come to bed. Does such a blunt statement find its way in how I am sat?"

Hitchi took a shaky breath. "Ah... maybe if you were to pat your lap," he uttered, adjusting his specs. "More, um... gaze. You know? A-And, e-er... hold it."

Thus, Khcenac 'held it'. With his other hand, he ruffled his head-quills, then went down to motion at his lap. "Quite good?"

"Better. T-Try the expression harder. More gaze. L-Like, you're Dracula, and y-you're staring down, um... your bird of prey."

He stared down Hitchixata. "Male or female?"

"D-Does it matter?"

"There are certain things made unique, then," Khcen whispered, now putting off intense expression. "Do you think my bird of prey is male or female?"

The littler bird, the photographer with his tail between his legs, squawked with a soft tone. "Think, a-ah... g-given how you look... th-this is for a male bird, n-not a female one. You a-are putting off total rose-in-beak vibes, y-yes, but not of a bird th-that sucks the blood, um, from the young lady, but one wh-who seduces his burly, a-ah, masculine foe. You a-are the object of... affection, um, in the fictional story."

Khcen squinted slightly. "Are those all quite the vibes I'm putting off? I was not certain. I am not bisexual myself, and would not know a thing about the difference. But I was curious what you thought, as artist."

"I th-think you look like gay Dracula," Hitchi weakly chuckled, his voice creaking a tad. "But, um, you know who it's for better th-than me. It's your own body."

"Oft-described metaphors for vampirism involve it as congruent with a hidden trait, like sexuality," Khcen rattled off. "Perhaps Dracula's power describes him as out and proud. I like the comparison, and am flattered. Ha-- I did say you need not flatter me."

Hitchi chuckled weakly, and slowly descended to the viewfinder of the camera. "Just, um, trying to help out. I-It was what was on my mind."

"A romantic-sounding mind. You can speak sweet Tradeband, photographer."

"Not like you," the bird said in a hushed tone. He reached his hand up and rested a finger on the clicky-click button to, presumably, take a picture. "Are, ahm. Are you ready to, um...?"

Once again, Hitchi flaunted his stuff. The flicker in his eyes, the pose of a man utterly vulnerable and yet altogether in control! He was not ready to be so excited by this. "Quite," he whispered. A moment passed, only a moment, in which the dazzling light of his self melted into the viewfinder of the camera, and it was done. A perfectly-composed, perfectly-lit digital photograph of an altogether sexual Vox.

"Ah," Hitchi stammered, "and I, uh, take it that, um... you wanted more taken, too?"

Khcenac took a deep breath and sat up straight again, pondering his options. "I can think of several things," he said at last, and beckoned for the nerd-bird to simply sit and provide advice.

Thus, this was a process. Khcen revealed himself bit by bit, in salacious poses and with a multitude of expressions. Hitchi was clearly trying to keep his head up. There wasn't flirting between the two so much as an unwillingness to simply avoid the subject. Khcenac would ask something about his pose, and Hitchixata would meekly respond something like, "It's, um, very inviting," or, "You're g-giving very, ahm, intense eyes. Like a pouncing, uh... animal, I guess." He would give a warm little smile, not like somebody embarrassed, but somebody having more fun than he was expecting to.

The last photo in this vein was a pinup-- an incredibly saucy composition involving Khcen, fully naked, sat with his rear quite visible, along with the indication of plenty else. Hitchi spoke up a bit more during that one. He wasn't prodding, but he did his best to be helpful-- poke out there, lean a little to the left, lower your head some. Eventually it seemed so excellent that he was giddy with excitement, clicked the camera, and immediately called the still-naked Khcen to come look at it.

"I do hope it was as excellent as I'm imagining!" the bird chittered as he approached.

"It's really, uh, the best so far, I-I think," Hitchixata chuckled, swivelling over the camera to show it off. "Good idea in the first place."

As he examined himself with a little grin, Khcen began to re-clothe. It wasn't an elegant affair-- his tight pants were annoying to get back on. "This will do quite perfectly, I believe! And-- you had plenty to do with it. I don't desire to take full credit, even if it is my body on display. Speaking of which..." He pointed over towards the kitchen. "I was planning more, ah-- a more candid look at me."

Hitchi nodded, and hefted his wimpy-looking body to pick up the tripod. "Ahm, like... waking up in the morning, to the sight of you cooking?"

"Exactly. My very favorite person to be in the morning." He threw on the rest of his vampire garb, returning to that oh-so-Dracula persona. "Though, by Nanotrasen's instituted clock, it's nearing the evening for me. So perhaps I'll cook dinner. Do you have ingredients for such a thing?"

The littler bird approached after him and rubbed the back of his head. "I wasn't, uh... thinking you'd really cook," he mumbled. "...but, ahm, it wouldn't not work. I-I have some rice, and beans, um, and a couple veggies. The upper cabinets over the island."

Khcenac nodded, and began to rifle through Hitchi's supplies. "Of course I'll really cook. Else the picture's quite inauthentic!"

"It's just a picture, ahah." He sat down the tripod camera a bit in front of the kitchen.

"Yes, and I indulge in taking these things seriously." There would be absolutely no convincing him, he seemed to say. He had a frolicking flow around the kitchen, and he figured out its ins and outs before even Hitchi could remember them. A simple rice and bean casserole, yet simplicity was its beautiful, magnificent soul! To awake in the middle of the day to Khcenac cooking such a hearty meal would elicit pure, raw, romantic vibes-- so one would hope!

Hitchi just nodded along. His cheeks puffed out in a bemused grin, and he set the camera up to begin taking pictures. They were candid, as in rather impromptu-- no longer was Khcenac posing, but instead the photos were of a bird utterly in his own world. Occasionally he would glance back, but it was not at the lens. Instead, it was directed at Hitchixata, who gave a meek little grin back. It became clear Khcen wasn't just cooking for the show of it, either-- he really did intend to make adequate dinner.

There was one picture, amidst the dozens, that felt quintessential. The Vox, with his mussed quills and not entirely beautiful appearance, was transformed into an elegant soul in his element. It was a fuzzy photo, with the heat and steam from a red-hot frying pan obscuring some of the shot, lit warmly from an incandescent light overhead.

After long enough, Hitchi didn't see a point in many more photos. He stood up and leaned soft against the kitchen counter, and struck up a spark of small talk. "What's, ahm... Nanotrasen like?"

"Oh, I wouldn't particularly know." Khcenac swished around the pan full of frying green veggies, but turned his head to face Hitchi. "Not that I'm not technically inundated in such things! But Luna Station differentiates itself greatly. My life lately has been plagued in most part by a rather tricky pursuit of love. Permanent sort, anyhow."

"The dating app," Hitchixata remarked. "That follows... I've always heard it's, um... very... not sexual, over there. Or even romantic."

Khcen nodded and prodded the meal with a scavenged metal spatula. "The prudish sort of not-sexual, which inhibits and even harms. Nanotrasen values its productivity above all! But I suppose we're an odd one out." He gave a little sly smirk. "I can't imagine the lawless lands of the Shoal are so prude? Especially given your website..."

"Y-Yeah." The littler bird laughed weakly. "Ahm... I don't know. I could talk about the 'business', but only, um... if you want that kind of thing. I probably come across as creepy. Voyeur."

"Well, I don't know a thing about it yet. Set my expectations."

Hitchi took a breath, muted. "...Well, it's a lot of, um, paid work. People come wanting to make photo sets... ah, sometimes it's from Nanotrasen, but usually... from the Shoal or, a-ah, somewhere else. I pay a couple, a-ahm, freelance photographers, to g-go out in the field, too. That is a whole process, a-ahah."

"It sounds quite." Khcenac was feeling rather intrigued, and continued to probe. "But you haven't convinced me on your voyeur status one way or the other. Do you like staring at naked bodies all day?"

"Hey, I don't stare at naked bodies all day." Hitchixata batted away the thought. "...but I do look at, ahm, a lot of naked bodies. I guess it's hard to feel nothing. My mind's always on how... nice it would feel to be there, though, I guess," he said. "Ahm, if I felt comfortable with myself, and... was romantic like you're romantic. That's my actual voyeur thing, and... there's, um, this whole section on the website just for cute and heartwarming, ah, stuff."

By the time the small bird had finished his tangent, he was staring off, a little lazily, a little dreamily. Khcenac was finished with frying the vegetables, and had sat down the pan to cool off before... plating, he supposed. This interaction had sort of gone on longer than expected, but not longer than wanted. "Well, there, we have located your true heart's desire. I did fantasize plenty about the romance of the world, back in the day-- indulged in a lot of romance novels..."

Hitchi's eyes suddenly went wide open. "Oh, me too! It's how I learned Tradeband!"

"What? Really?" Khcenac leaned a bit against the stove, staring at Hitchixata with an intensely puzzled gaze.

"Yes. I ordered copies in both, ahm, languages, and just... well, I loved the stories so much, it was a good experience." The little bird did that thing, again, where he looked off in thought. "Not super common for a Shoal Vox to, ahah... invest like that, but they're like comfort food."

Khcen took a deep breath, sucking in the aroma of fried food. He giggled a little to himself. "I don't know what to say! I've stumbled across another fanatic, ha. I've even been teased for learning my primary language from such novels, though I never thought that'd be a real, achievable feat." The bird's deep, introspective eyes were glaring into Hitchi, searching his soul. "Your favorite?"

"The King of Red," Hitchi said, his sibilant lisping voice growing excited, "but I also really like Night in a Bind, the Skrik Kaws series... oh, and Tunnel Pocker books are great."

"King of Red is an excellent choice. The classic feud of human and Vox, cheesy to the point of nearly sickening, yet quite beautiful in execution." Khcenac stepped away from the stove at last. Now, he was just invested in this. "But I'm personally quite partial to Tunnel Pocker novels. They're like, ah... romance amidst darkness. Candlelit dinners in the dim, rusting Shoal."

Hitchixata chittered and rubbed back his head-quills. "Ahah, I guess. I should probably like them more, since I'm from around here, but..."

Khcenac shook his head. "I respect your preference. Mostly, I'm just inundated in the fact somebody cares even remotely as much as I do. My head swirls in thoughts about Ahakicho holding his dear lover, or Todd Garcia's love-ballad in the concert hall..."

"My head swirls in thought about holding hands with either of them," Hitchi said, his eyes lighting up like a bulb. He was lost in that thought again, the little heartthrob.

The moment was suddenly paused. The air had changed. The romance novels were commonly straight, and yet here both of them were, thoughts focused on the male attention in two. Hitchixata was holding his beak shut meekly, and Khcenac couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Finally, after a few moments, he said, "...Perhaps, ah, since this photo business is finished, I could take a look at your book collection. I'm sure there's ones I haven't even witnessed myself."

Hitchi nodded frantically. There was no wait. "I'd really, a-ahm, wouldn't mind that."

"I made dinner, after all."

"Might as well get use out of it!"

There was a little comfort lounge. It was more like a nook than its own room, sitting under a slanted part of the hangar-home roof, with an L-shaped couch, lush carpet, and two bookshelves containing a wealth of familiar-looking softcovers. Khcenac had found himself knelt down by the nearest shelf, reading off titles and reminiscing happily, while Hitchixata sat at the sofa, half-eaten plate of fried rice on the coffee table, egging him on. "Dionaea can love!"

"I simply can't see it all working out," Khcenac laughed, reading the back cover of something called 'Plants--We Like Them Here'. "Marjorie is a young lady who finds herself lost in a jungle on Sol, surrounded by the most dangerous flora and fauna Man has ever known... and, hum, what, is a rickety tree-man going to save her?"

"No, nooo," Hitchi tried to protest. "Ahm, um, I mean, yes, but he saves her heart, mainly. The conflict is, um, very incidental. Like, one lion, total."

"Ah, fine. Fine. But explain this one." Khcenac pulled out another worn softcover, this one titled 'The AI Who Loved My'. "The title is misspelled. And I can't imagine the treatment of a slaved Nanotrasen silicon by a crew member could be all that consensual."

Trying to remain sage, the nerd-bird hummed. "Ah, the translation's pretty bad, yeah... but, um, from what I gathered, it's more like, one sided love. The AI first. Then the main character, ah, he frees her from laws."

"Well, that's bound to end in disaster."

"Hah, well, not in fantasy land." Hitchi snickered. "It's really cute. And, a-ahhhm... I ended up really liking the bad translation. It's, um, endearing, is the word."

Khcenac squinted a little, giving Hitchi a smile. "I suppose you're the artificial intelligence in this fantasy?"

"I'm the reader in this fantasy," he clarified. "But, ahah, I guess I'd put myself in as the... as the AI, yeah. Looking on afar is kind of a thing, um, I already do a bit."

"You wouldn't rather be in-person? Being admired?"

"Maybe in, er, concept." Hitchi shrugged, and then his gaze went off again. "I really... really doubt somebody would, ahhh... 'admire' me. I'm not like you."

Khcenac tilted his head. "Ah, and what am I like?"

"Handsome bird who has a profile for a dating app, you know?"

He went a little flush blue from the compliment. It was an offhanded thing, too, for Hitchi, a fact which made him envious but not spiteful. But Khcenac had never particularly thought of himself as handsome-- unassuming, a miner bird who wanted to be heard, not seen. He said as much out loud, though in a coy sort of way. "I like to believe I simply carry myself handsome."

To this, Hitchixata just poked at his fried rice, taking a bite of fried bell pepper. "You do," he said.

Khcen turned back to the bookshelf, sliding back the two he'd retrieved and finding another title that excited- or horrified- the reader. "I Had Consensual Sex With The Butt That Left Me?"

"Yeah, that's, a-ah, a weird one," Hitchi muttered, unable to contain a muffled giggle.

"Probably less my speed. However..." Khcenac pulled out 'The King of Red 2 - Renewal of Red' and displayed it for the other bird. "This intrigues me. I wasn't aware this beloved novel had what looks to be an incredibly off-key sequel. The cover has... what is this, a loveseat?"

Hitchixata nodded, snorting a bit. "The original one had a little wooden chair on the cover... this is, um, the really raunchy sequel, written... twenty years late, and, a-ahm, by a different author?"

"Is it any good?"

"I mean." Hitchi lowered his brow, staring incredulous through his glasses. "...what do you think?"

Cackling to himself, Khcenac placed both books back. "I think that your standards to purchase a novel are lower than mine."

"Well, there are a lot of good books here," Hitchi said, not a stammer in his step, though that warbly tone remained. "But, ah, yes, lots of bad ones. I'm still a sucker for, um, just about everything. I cried at the end of, ahh, 'I Had Consensual Sex With The Butt That Left Me'."

"Is it sad?"

"No," Hitchi said, looking off fondly. "It's heartfelt."

Khcen continued perusing the collection offhandedly. "Killer in Drag, Last Stop Love, A Christmas in the Demon Core... I suppose some of these could be of a higher quality."

"Oh, Killer in Drag isn't a romance novel," Hitchixata noted. "Crime fiction."

"Ah, so you own more than simply one genre, eheh."

The littler bird laughed weakly. "Just a little."

With a little flourish, Khcenac turned around and stood up, still remaining low. "How about, ah-- you give me a solid recommendation? Not simply something I find for its title alone to be comical, but one that you trust I'll enjoy."

"Mmmnn... ahm, I can do that, yes." Hitchi leaned forward off the couch and began scanning his own bookshelves. "Something kind of high-brow, right?"

"At least the sensation of being high-brow," Khcen noted. "I've developed a fascination for schlock as of late."

"Ah, okay." The littler bird squinted and held his tongue for a short while, until finally his gaze landed on a thin hardcover with worn fabric edges. "Mmmnn... there, the red booklet. 'Romanticism of a Dead Era'. It's about, um, a cute couple, after the end of their planet. They get picked up by aliens, break up, and... um, well, it's cute. It takes a while to get to what it's about."

Khcenac followed Hitchi's gaze and retrieved it from between books titled 'Kill My Dad's Brother's Heart' and 'Space Japan!! - My New Hot Foreign Friend.' "And what is it about?"

"It takes a while!" Hitchixata snickered softly. "You'll, ah, probably like it, though. They meet the aliens, and... well, you'll see."

"I suppose, perhaps, that I will." Khcen stood up, displaying a newfound, cautious excitement. He headed over to the sofa, sitting near Hitchi with his legs up on the table, and laid the book in his lap, beginning to read the back cover. "You've piqued my interest, because it's odd."

"Y-Yeah. I guess odd stories are, ahh... usually closer to real life."

"Not in terms of being alien-abducted, but..."

Hitchi nodded. "More like, in terms of it being complicated."

"Astute of you to have noticed such a thing," Khcenac commented, as his eyes passed over the dry-tone summary on the back. "You do strike me as... well, please don't take any mean intentions, but not one of having plenty of relationships yourself."

"Not mean, and... ah, accurate." Though he seemed to have a fair amount of self-esteem in some parts, Hitchi was still wholly limp on that subject. "Your friend Matt calls me... um, the nerd-bird."

"Do you like the nickname?"

He reached a hand up to adjust his glasses. "If it's... um, ah, meant nicely, you know?"

"I understand the feeling." Khcenac nodded plainly, his gaze becoming intense. "I'd rather consider you a bit of a thinker, if my empathic senses have not entirely fallen off. You daydream in the middle of conversation, and you mean many of the things you say at face value. I do like the lack of implication in your tone."

"But," Hitchi clarified, unwilling to take a direct compliment, "that means I, ah, don't keep up, so fast."

"Conversation isn't a race, Hitchixata."

The nerd-bird expelled a bit of nitrogen out of his nostrils. "Can feel like one."

A fair assessment. Khcenac sat back further in thought. "...In books, there's plenty of time to go over dialogue. It is not so ephemeral. And in... well, to be frank, porn, it's a more simple affair. One can just hold their lover close, and such a situation no longer has so much complexity. Touch is just touch."

"I think," Hitchi said, looking off in thought like he had many times before, "I really want to be, um... like, make up for... ah, not being great at this, with grand gestures. You know?"

"Intimately," Khcen said, breathless.

"You get a-all the time in the world to prepare, and, ahhm, it makes up for all the little things going wrong. If you get the big thing right. That'd be what I'd do, ahh, in a relationship."

Khcenac was now probing further than before. "A relationship with a woman, with a man?"

"E-Either, or anything," Hitchi stammered. "I, um, realized I was bi recently."

For a moment, the larger Vox was speechless. He couldn't sum up or improve the moment any more. He was suddenly wracked with interest in this nerd-bird, stuck in a lovely moment in his home, in his space, in his world. He was holding a book dear to Hitchi, he was holding the instant in a tight grip, like a boulder teetering on either edge of a cliff. If something were said, it would change their fates without any way to take it back.

--then, just as Khcen's head was in the clouds, the buzz of his PDA brought him back. He flinched a bit and quickly pulled it out, to find that Matt had texted him a few times in a row.

'you okay shitbird?'

'it's been like two hours, no taxi back yet'

'pleeease tell me you didn't get serial killed for a few pictures'

His memory came back to him. He wasn't here to go frolicking off with some Shoal Vox, he was here to get pictures for his much more reasonable prospects at Luna Station. He had travelled for twenty minutes through tunnels and shady neighborhoods to get here. He was employed in a life contract, and this nerd-bird wasn't. It was a dizzying feat to even think about, working through all the issues that would arise.

It was simply not a viable option.

His heart sunk, and he swallowed spit, quickly tapping out a response.

'Yes. I'm quite alright, insofar as I haven't been serial killed. The pictures came out rather high-quality. I'll be making the walk back to the hangar now.'

Hitchi sat uncomfortably as Khcenac stood up. "Your friend...?"

"Matt, indeed. I, ah... did forget that he was expecting me back to Luna Station," he muttered. "It's quite late, and my workday begins early, Nanotrasen time. I ought be returning before I have my boss hounding me, too."

"R-Right," the nerd-bird stammered. He took a weak breath. "Ahm. I want you to, uh, have that book. I think you'd like it."

Khcenac managed a nod. "...And you'd like it back, I assume?"

Hitchi wasn't sure. "Well, a-ah, I already did the job, right? The pictures, um, and whatnot. So you probably won't come by again."

"That's... a fair enough assessment." The mood had soured. There was so much left unspoken, but that needed to be unspoken, lest Khcenac find himself emotional again. He made his way towards the exit, and a dejected Hitchi followed after him. Book in hand, Khcen glanced back, once he had opened the door out. "But I-- very much appreciate everything you've done to assist me. This was a very pleasant venture."

"Yeah. And, a-ahhm... the pictures really ought help you find a... girlfriend, or something."

"Mmn." Khcenac huffed. "A male partner for me." He regretted confiding the moment he did.

Hitchixata paused a moment. His little heart looked like it was going to snap. It reminded Khcenac of himself. "I hope this, um... th-this Dracula finds his love, th-then."

Weakly, Dracula nodded. "It ought be an easier affair with your help." He slid the door open and stepped into the hallway, the muck, the wasteland of lost possibility. "Thank you... nerd-bird."

"You're, ah, welcome, Nanotrasen-bird." Hitchi gave the bare minimum of a smile. He was going to hurt when the door closed.

Khcen didn't have the heart to speak. He took a trembling breath, nodded for what felt like the hundredth time, and slid their conversation shut.

...

Thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes to Khcenac's first date since updating his profile. He had really decked it out with Viz's help, really made himself appealing... and after four days of no messages, he got a sleazy message from his boss, the Quartermaster, who was obviously intoxicated, and horny-posting. 'Didn't know you had so much sauce,' he had written. 'Do a date with me. Then we do the fuck. Heeheheh'

So they had set up a date the following night, this night, this arduous night, in which Khcenac was half-dressed and half-awake and anxious and bobbing his leg and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, even though nothing was going to come.

The Quartermaster was an asshole. Every bit of him resonated as such. It was not an event he wanted to even approach. But he would have to. This man, this bigoted crass man, who had lead a Revolution and nearly let the Heads of Staff meet their doom, had asked him on a date. Maybe this was the best Khcenac would ever get. Maybe this was what Khcenac deserved.

Twenty-five minutes.

He was already dressed. Sort of. He'd thrown on some clothes haphazardly, but he was now groaning and straining at the thought of actually marching out in them. He'd be so much happier staying home, wouldn't he?

--Staying home doing what, Khcenac? Your only activity for tonight is the date you set up.

But the date felt like a sickening idea. It was only magnified in sickness when his PDA began buzzing again, and a dejected, energy-empty Vox pulled it out to stare at a series of messages coming in, clearly sent in a fugue, from the Quartermaster.

'DidtnT't know the slacking off you and your gay bitch doing were sex. Sen dme uncensored peictures from earlier'

'Sent eh in'

'Send the undencosred pictures from your pforile. Or maybe I'll see them tonight, haha.'

The texts oozed some kind of awful, slimy vibe, that Khcen could hardly put a finger on. It embarrassed him just to be the fixture of them. How intoxicated must his boss have been to think those were a good idea?

But, again, perhaps this is what he earned, for such salacious pictures. The worst of the worst. His gallery didn't begin with what he considered the most nuanced, the photo Hitchi had sent of him happily stirring rice in that little kitchen. Instead, it began with the pinup-- enticing, beautiful, and... maybe, just maybe, not the persona Khcenac wanted to try to use to attract people.

Then, his mind went solemnly to Hitchi, his scrawny features, his lisping voice, his cute glasses.

Twenty minutes.

Time was running out for him to be all proper and early to this date. Without preparation, without grooming himself and dressing up fancy, it would be even more doomed to fail! Sure, this Quartermaster had been the bane of his existence for years, and he was scummy, and he was gross, and he was drunk, but Khcenac would be sabotaging any chance of it going well by sitting here, unsure, sad, miserable, tired of it.

This was the best he'd get, and he couldn't muster the energy to stand up. Only the energy to check his PDA anxiously.

Fifteen minutes.

He really should have washed up earlier. Maybe there would still be time-- spray on some perfume, muss up his quills a little, pamper his beak. Maybe he could search for help. He brought up Vizkathla on his PDA.

'I am in dire need of direction on what to do. I am stuck waiting for a date with the Quartermaster that brings me little to no excitement. It is in the bar in thirteen minutes, and yet here I sit motionless. Please direct me, Viz.'

Khcen leaned, dejected, on his little plasticine table, and waited for a response.

Ten minutes.

There was no response. Perhaps Viz was asleep-- it would be a better idea to ask a night owl, the kind of man who patrols the sprawl of Luna Station, who would find privilege in helping out a Vox shitbird.

'Matt! Please assist me in this matter. I have landed myself a date with the Quartermaster, but the idea of spending any moment with him in a romantic setting does not spark joy. I don't have long until it's due. I simply hate the idea, and yet know it would be the right one. What do I do? Please motivate me.'

He rubbed tiredly at his head. He would barely have time to get there, if he kept procrastinating.

No response. Not from Viz, not from Matt.

Five minutes.

'Atchki', he typed, head on the table flat, like he was sleeping. 'The worst situation. I have a date with the Quartermaster in four or five minutes. I am thinking of not showing up, but what a terrible thing it would be. It's the only date I've gotten thus far, and I'll be blowing it. Please do tell me I should simply suck it up, regardless of the fact I hate the idea.'

He sat up again. His leg bobbed. The clock ticked and ticked, his PDA remained motionless, and he stayed stuck in that moment.

Zero minutes.

He was late. He was going to be late no matter when he arrived, now. His little device to talk to the world buzzed, but not with a message from his friends-- instead, it was the Quartermaster, blabbering on in text-speech that looked like his hands were numb.

'Bbbbwhy aren't you here. You look different than I remember or somethhing?? Come with ur dick out'

What response could he muster? Khcenac had already blown it. He was deep in his own guilt over this thing.

Five minutes late.

He checked his PDA now and again, but that was usually the most he could manage. His pod-home felt empty, abandoned, like all the life had slid out a grate. He was sure that he used to be a lively bird, but ever since turning down Hitchi with so few words, he had felt like lazing around lifeless, drained, like he had any reason to be that way.

What was so wrong with him? What felt so wrong? It wasn't work, nor his perfectly supportive network of friends-- this was just a moment of utter apathy.

Ten minutes late.

Perhaps it was not what he had, but what he was missing out. Perhaps it was that instance on the Shoal in which he could have taken a chance, but he did not.

His PDA buzzed. Khcen checked it semi-interestedly to find that it was still just the Quartermaster, now wailing.

'Why did nyou not show up, huh'

'Come down. I'lll order you bird seed. Then the fuck.'

Fifteen minutes late.

It dawned on him, that Vox in his pod-home feeling more lonely than he ever had before, that maybe- just maybe- it wasn't too late. If he discarded this ill-fated date, if he followed his heart, as all his favorite romance novel protagonists had... Khcenac could grasp at love. He could take a chance with the Vox who seemed unlikely, who seemed inadvertent.

But, maybe, inevitably, he should simply settle.

He stood up. Shaky, still. Late. He felt like trash. He supposed he was just going to have to limp all the way down to the bar and present himself to the Quartermaster in such terrible state. This was him at his worst, and he would just suck it up.

For Atchki, for Matt, for Vizkathla, he had sucked up the fact that it wasn't going to work out. Now, Khcenac collected himself, blinked thrice to make sure, and made his way towards the door, determined to make do with what he had.

In the back of his mind, a thought ached: why had none of them responded to his texts?

Then, a quiet knock at the door. Khcenac thought he recognized it-- the muted thuds of a human, Matt, with apprehension. Perhaps they'd staged an intervention. Perhaps they were here to drag him, kicking and screaming, to his first date in weeks. He wiped at his eyes, groaned a weak, "Coming!", and opened his door.

Below him stood Hitchixata, a worried little Vox. His glasses were on a little crooked, and he looked like he was going to burst at the seams from raw, sure emotion. In his arms he was hefting two things, both of which were statements of intense proportion-- one was a box of chocolates or some other tasty-smelling sweets, shaped like a heart with cheap-o purple plastic keeping it slid shut. The other was a bundle of still-wet roses, fragrant and wrapped in wax paper, like they had been purchased only twenty minutes earlier from a bustling market in the Shoal, which they had been.

Khcen didn't know what to say. His breathing grew heavy.

Hitchi weakly sputtered, "Y-Your friends t-told me how t-to get to your p-place, a-ahhh." His tone was even more lilting than ever. If a mean thing were said to him, he would blow away into dust. "G-Grand gesture?" he coughed.

"Grand gesture," Khcen said, at first motionless.

At first.

Then, this bird who listened to classical music alone at home so he could weep, Khcenac, this bird who was prone to settling and compromising and listening to his nagging voice that told him to be reasonable, was entirely in motion. He lunged on the bird. He hugged him like he was going to die tomorrow, tilted his head at an angle, and enveloped him in the most passionate, love-hungry, bloodthirsty kiss of his life.

Hitchixata nearly dropped the chocolates and roses, wrapped both arms around Khcen, and embraced the beak-locking smooch with muted, elated warbles.

He was carried off into the pod-home, and not a worried question was asked by either of them for the rest of the night.


Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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Pub: 26 Feb 2021 23:32 UTC
Edit: 28 Feb 2021 22:41 UTC
Views: 992