My mind races. She works directly with him. She could—no, she probably arranges his schedule. His meetings. If I could just... but I can’t ask. Can’t reveal why I’m here. Can’t make it obvious.
“I mean—” I scramble for something, anything. “That sounds like an important position. You must be very busy.”
“It can be,” she agrees, still watching me with that slight curiosity.
Say something normal. Something that doesn’t sound desperate.
“But if you had time—even just for one activity?” The words tumble out too quickly. “Could you be my guide? If that’s possible? You’re already here, and you seem very organized. I really would appreciate your guidance specifically. You explained things so clearly just now, and I...”
I gesture at the neat stack she’s made of my belongings. “And I clearly need all the help I can get with human customs.”
I’m being too eager. Too obvious. But I can’t seem to stop myself.
Heat floods my face. She studies me for a long moment, and I’m certain she can see right through me. I’ve overstepped. Of course I’ve overstepped.
If I can get her to soften up toward me, perhaps she’ll be willing to arrange a meeting. If I ask too early though, my entire mission might be shut down before it’s even begun. I cannot afford that. The risk is too high.
Her expression softens.
“You know what? Why not. Rist’s schedule is light this afternoon anyway.” A small smile touches her lips—the same warm one from before. She glances around the packed lobby. “I could use a bit of a change of environment. It’s a bit hectic in here with all these aliens about.”
My heart skips a beat. “Really?”
“Really. Though I should warn you—the first activity starts in about thirty minutes. Pumpkin carving. Think you can handle a knife?”
I laugh at the idea. Holding my hands out toward her, I flex my fingers until my claws slide smoothly out.
“I’m a Volscian. Our species is practically born with blades in our hands.”
The words come out more confident than I feel. Unlike my brother, unlike any other Volscian I’ve met, I’ve never even had to use them. I’m not even sure I can use them against another. I’m not a warrior like my brother and father. I’m just… me.
I grimace down at the deadly sharp tips, trying to envision what it would feel like to pierce them through tough hide and into soft flesh… of a vegetable. It doesn’t sound pleasant.
She laughs—actually laughs—probably mistaking my look of self-derision for disgust at the idea of using them in such a manner. And yet, my negative thoughts vanish, and all I want to hear is the sound of her amusement again.
“Don’t worry too much. We supply knives and tools for everyone to use. Also, wear something that you can get a bit dirty. It’s going to bemessy.”
Her enthusiasm is contagious, especially the way she bounces on her feet in anticipation.
“Messy does not sound fun,” I remark, doubt creeping in. I want to join her, but what if I spill dirt or gourd innards on myself. What will people think?
“The event’s supposed to be fun, not perfect. That’s kind of the whole point of Halloween.”
Fun. Not perfect. Foreign concepts in my family.
“What if I’m terrible at it?” I blurt out.
“Then you’ll fit right in. Half the guests won’t know what they’re doing either.”
I don’t get a chance to talk to her more as Selene’s already turning to help a tentacled being who’s gotten tangled in one of the nearby hanging decorations. “The event starts in thirty minutes. I’ll see you at the carving station!”
I watch her go, marveling at how she moves through the chaos with such ease. Nothing at all like my own disorganized chaos. I look down at my armload of possessions, clothing barely contained in my bag, and head for the elevators.
In my room, I drop everything on the bed and stare at my reflection. Red skin, black hair escaping its tie, horns that barely clear my hairline. I look exactly like someone who would fail at everything—diplomatic missions, family expectations, apparently even pumpkin carving.
But Selene didn’t look at me like I was a failure. She looked at me like I was just... another guest.
Maybe that’s enough for now. At least I can pretend that she saw more in me.
