TW: alcohol

……………………….

They got onto the elevator at the hotel, and Droya hit the button for the lobby. An othersider couple got on the elevator after they had gone down a couple floors, and they both stared at Rosie with blatant curiosity until Droya put a hand on her shoulder and cleared his throat. The couple turned abruptly and watched the elevator doors for the rest of the trip down, in complete silence, then darted out when they reached the lobby.

“I’ll bring the car around,” Droya said, “you can wait here with Zete.”

Rosie crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Ooooor, we can… all go to the garage and get the car?” he added.

Rosie leaned against the side wall of the elevator, indicating she had no intention of getting off at the lobby.

Droya hit the button for the garage level.

Rosie sighed after the elevator doors closed again and it was just the three of them.

“I’m sorry if I’m making your job difficult,” she said.

Zete was perched on a rail just above Rosie’s head, and responded to her immediately.

“You are not difficult,” Zete said. “You are unpredictable. It’s different.”

“Unpredictable can be difficult,” Rosie shot back, feeling on edge.

“Unpredictable can be fun,” Droya returned, the tip of his tail twitching fitfully.

Rosie gave Droya a rueful smile.

“I know how customer service works,” she said. “All my jobs have been customer service. I know you have to be nice to me because it’s your job, and it makes me easier to handle. But you can be honest with me, I’m tougher than I look. I’d rather know how you really feel…” than get invested in new friendships and just get hurt later, she finished in her head.

The elevator doors opened and Rosie couldn’t help but gape at the garage. It was pristine and well-lit, and absolutely stacked with the most elaborate and stylish vehicles she’d ever seen. These were not generic sedans. These were works of art.

She forgot what she was talking about and wandered out of the elevator, her eyes bouncing all over the place, from glaringly yellow polished surface to velvet-textured curves. She had never considered herself a “car person,” but these were downright sexy.

Droya and Zete followed behind her until she got close to a deep burgundy four-door, and its lights blinked. Rosie took a step back and watched as Droya opened the front passenger door.

“It’s beautiful,” she sighed, running her fingertips down the smooth, cold metal of the curved hood.

“Right?” Droya said with a toothy grin. “I always used to think driving fancy cars was the best part of this job.”

Rosie examined the perfectly sculpted side mirror in wonder – it had the texture of satin.

“What do you think now?” she asked idly.

Droya walked around the open door and took Rosie’s hand gently, leading her back around and guiding her into the car.

“Meeting interesting people,” he said, and shut the door. Zete flew in when Droya opened the driver’s side door, and they took a seat on the dashboard.

Rosie didn’t know what to say to Droya, but she didn’t need to speak, because Droya wasn’t done.

He buckled his seatbelt and adjusted his hat, then looked at Rosie.

“You don’t even realize we already made a contract, do you?” Droya asked.

Rosie blinked.

“What?”

Zete sighed and turned to face them, then pointed at Rosie.

“You agreed to help Droya learn more about humans and answer any of his questions, and you,” Zete pointed at Droya, “agreed to answer any of her questions.”

Rosie looked back and forth between Zete and Droya.

“Wait,” she said, her brows furrowed. “Like, a trick contract like the pamphlet says? Are you serious? I thought that was illegal. Not that I wouldn’t make that deal on purpose, I don’t mind answering questions, but…”

Droya shrugged. “I’d prefer you didn’t report me,” he said. “I could lose my job, go on suspension from my guild, and have to pay a fine.”

Rosie frowned.

“Why are you telling me, then?” she asked.

Droya smiled and pressed his thumb onto a smooth black panel on the dash.

“I’m being honest with you,” he said, and the car rumbled to life with a low purr.

Rosie gripped her seatbelt as Droya put the car in gear and pulled forward.

“It’s not really natural for me,” he said, “but I can promise I’ll try, if you promise you will also.”

“Another deal?” Zete groaned.

“I will,” Rosie said without hesitation.

“I knew you would,” Droya said, belting out a laugh. “If I am not wrong, you cannot be otherwise.”

“My friend Ray says I’m pathologically honest,” Rosie said, not ashamed.

“I don’t know all those words,” Droya said, “but I assume this Ray knows you well.”

Zete sighed at them both.

Droya seemed to already have a place in mind for their meal, and he took a right leaving the underground parking lot. Rosie was plastered to the window, trying to soak in everything she saw. Almost all the signage was in both Hellish and English, so she had a pretty good idea that they were in a high-end, Earth-centric part of Brulla. There were beauty salons, big brand clothing stores from Earth, even a branch of the bank that she used. Human things were considered stylish in certain areas of Hell, and this was a good indication she was in one of those areas. There was plenty of evidence that this was not a weird neighborhood of Earth, though, even aside from the near-absence of humans.

The decorative plants and trees that ate into the sidewalks were definitely not from Earth. The small trees had bone-white trunks with black spikes for leaves, and everywhere that Rosie would have expected grass instead had blood-red moss that seemed to grow in bubble-like clumps. The othersiders that were going about their daily business on the sidewalks and in the shop windows were almost all winged, and dressed in modified and classy human-style clothes. Some were even wearing shoes.

“Why don’t you wear shoes?” Rosie asked curiously.

“I don’t need to,” Zete responded.

“Shoes just slow me down,” Droya said.

“Huh,” Rosie acknowledged, still gaping at the sights. “Yeah, I like sandals better anyway.”

As Droya drove on, the other cars on the road became slowly less and less fancy, and the shops lost their English signs and Earth brands. Human clothing became scarcer, switched out with tunics like Droya’s, toga-like wraps, and something that almost looked like a sari.

“Are we going to Ponirette?” Zete asked.

“I was thinking Zerinta’s,” Droya responded.

Zete made a face. “Do they even serve human food?” they asked.

“They have the sticker,” Droya said with a light shrug. “So we’ll see.”

Rosie watched a tall yellow woman walking down the sidewalk with a red man, a pink toddler in a blue dress walking between them.

“Are you taking me somewhere weird to scare me off trying to explore?” she asked.

Droya stifled a grin.

“Maybe,” he said.

Rosie smiled, still looking out the window.

“But it’s also a place I like,” he said. “So try not to get into any fights.”

Rosie giggled.

Twenty minutes later, they were seated in a small alcove in the restaurant. Each table was no more than a foot off the ground, and the seating was made of piles and piles of haphazardly placed throw pillows. The hostess drew the curtain closed to give them privacy, and then returned shortly with menus – a large one for Droya, a tiny one for Zete, and a laminated half sheet for Rosie that barely had anything on it.

Droya leaned over to look at Rosie’s menu.

“Do they have anything you like?” he asked.

Rosie laughed.

“I think it’s my undergrad shopping list,” she said.

Droya cocked his head, puzzled.

“It’s perfect,” she explained.

She ordered the frozen pizza and a can of orange soda, through Zete’s translation as the waitress did not speak English. The other two ordered their food, and the waitress disappeared behind the curtain. Sounds from other booths filtered in from the restaurant. People laughing, chatting in Hellish, plates clattering. Rosie felt far more comfortable here than in the hotel. She was still a bundle of anxiety, though.

“So you come here a lot, you said?” Rosie asked Droya, trying to distract herself from her own nerves.

He nodded. “Fairly often. The food is simple, cheap, and good, and the cook is a cousin of mine. I like to support him stepping outside of our caste.”

“Your caste?” Rosie asked.

“Hmm. So, how to explain?” Droya scratched his head.

“Droya is a demon,” Zete spoke up. “But he is a specific type of demon, a shaya. The shaya are traditionally in protection work, so many bodyguards, police, security guards, and safety specialists are shaya. It was only in the last fifty years that it was legal for a shaya to go into another field.”

“Like being a chef,” Rosie said, nodding. “I see.”

“This is correct,” Droya said. “Just as Zete is a fairy, but more specific, a pixie. Pixies are assistants and messengers, in tradition. But now, it is not always the case.”

Rosie considered.

“Is there something else you wanted to do? Other than what you’re doing now?” she asked the two.

Droya shrugged, leaning on a pillow. “Maybe. But there was not a way.”

“I wanted to be a model,” Zete said.

Droya and Rosie turned to look at the pixie with wide eyes.

“What?” Zete squeaked. “Everyone always told me how pretty I was when I was a kid. But like Droya said… there wasn’t a way. I wouldn’t have known where to start. Being an assistant was the path laid out already.”

Rosie felt like the whole topic was bringing them down, but she didn’t know exactly what to say. They chatted about castes a little more, until the food arrived, and they all dug in hungrily. Rosie chewed on her slightly freezer-burned pizza happily, watching as Droya took a big bite out of a chunk of pink meat.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Fresh gargoyle,” he said, then tore off another hunk of the meat with his sharp teeth.

Rosie stared. She watched as he swallowed, imagining that she could see his throat expand as he downed the bite.

“Huh,” she said, turning to Zete. The pixie’s small plate was heaped with fluffy greens.

“What did you get?” she asked.

They had a fist full of greens they were about to stuff into their mouth, but they stopped and said “It’s salad.”

“Oh,” she said.

“With some worms for protein,” they added.

“Right, for protein,” she said. “Hey, do they serve drinks here?”

Droya grinned and downed another big swallow of meat.

“They do have drinks, but I do not know about drinks for humans. I will ask.”

When the waitress came in to check on them next, Rosie asked Droya to ask if they had any wine.

He spoke to her in Hellish and she responded.

“They have something called vodka,” Droya told Rosie.

Rosie bit her lip, took a breath, and said “Screw it, let’s do it. It’s still early, right?”