Karollus might’ve froze for a moment, but his lips went right to scrunching upward as though this bear of man had suddenly become bashful. Seemingly in a fluster, he covered his small mouth with the back of his palm, trying to hide his true feelings. “No,” he answered.

“Aw come now, Karo,” Alvalar deepened his voice seductively, a touch of giggling rung through his words. His previous plan of flirtation might’ve failed, but his current one was going right as planned. “You know that your too honest for your own good.” He lightly tapped his former lover’s bulbous nose teasingly. “Even if you try to lie, you can never really do it right. Just admit it. You miss me. Especially on long nights.”

The baker’s son chomped upward, purposefully missing and just inches away from Alvalar’s finger. “Shut up,” he hissed. He began to move his hand outward in a shoo-ing motion. “Just leave, Al.” His tone was uneasy as though he was trying to stay cold while having some bashfulness peek through at the same time. “Y-your causing a line.”

“Oh, really now?” Alvalar peered out of the corner of his eye. “Then that line must be made up of invisible customers because I don’t see anyone.”

Karollus’ lips quivered so much that he couldn’t help but let out a cute, embarrassed smile as though he’d been caught. Even if he wanted to suppress it, he didn’t seem like he was able to. “D-D-Don’t you have to go and help out Smoke?”

“I do, but I can stay here all day long if you want me too,” Alvalar replied with a sly grin.

“You know Smoke is going to give another cocotazo if you’re late again, right? I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you, Al,” his former lover answered in a cautious tone, his once embarrassed smile gone. Any attempt at keeping his face as cold as ice was melted away by a subtle tightening of his brows.

Alvalar softened his grin into a simple affectionate quirk of his lips. “I know, Karo. Thank you for caring for me.” He quickly poked Karollus’ nose once more and gave an impish wink. “Hey, if you’re going to be able to attend tonight, try to bring your Guardian Beast cards. I made a new deck since we’ve broken up and I want to battle you.”

The baker’s son’s cautious, somewhat brooding expression had evaporated once Alvalar had mentioned the pair’s favorite card game. The birthday boy was thankful for it. He disliked seeing his former lover distressed, and much preferred to see him smiling. Witnessing his lips turn upward and reveal his teeth, Karollus’ smile could only be described as rivaling the beauty of the sun’s morning glow over the horizon. He punched a clenched fist against his open palm and said, “Then prepare to get beaten.” The baker’s son spoke with such an innate sense of confidence that it left Alvalar feeling a tad jealous…

“Oh really? We’ll just have to see about that, Karollus,” the birthday boy spoke with an impassive tone that shrouded his jealousy around his overall cheery mood. “Come, Misu.” Alvalar patted his side and the caliber that had previously laid her body against the sun-burnt grass as she waited for her owner to be finished speaking had risen and arched her muscular back in a yawn.

And just like that, Alvalar waved goodbye to his former lover and moved through the crowd with a pip in his step as Misu followed closely behind, absolutely breaming in overwhelming joy despite the hint of jealousy that absorbed itself into his heart. Maybe mámá was right, he thought. He couldn’t help but find himself smiling. His heart grew warm and fuzzy. Maybe all we need to do is talk and we can get this little blimp and repair our relationship. I hope Karo can make it to the birthday party tonight.

  Through his peripheral vision, Alvalar saw how some businesses from the other side of Esperanza had stalls laid out by orange-and-green Idro bead-wearing business owners, shouting out and advertising that their particular food, clothing, paintings or jewelry were of the highest quality by offering free samples to passers-by. Nearby, the business owners’ calibers were relaxing on their fancy pillow cases, either cleaning their massive paws or conserving energy in their tiny, false form as they enjoyed a snooze.

Whether they be snow white, pitch black, chocolate like Misu or calico, the calibers’ fur was all glossy and utterly beautiful. They looked as though they were brushed every single day. As Alvalar and Misu walked past, he saw how the still-awake calibers stopped their licking, took one whiff of his calibress then held their nose pompously up in the air.

Navasarian artisanal culture dictates that a master craftsman must own at least one caliber and keep their overall appearance in tip-top shape and their fur gorgeous to line with the quality of their owner’s wares. Despite being a smith apprentice himself, Alvalar thought of the particular concept as utter bull. Already having and maintaining a caliber from as young as three-week-old cub was indicative of his innate potential and the quality of his wares. Besides, Misu was better than five calibers combined, glossy-furred or not! Not only would she give him confidence with her approval licks, but if she could feel the potential of the design, but wasn’t exactly seeing it the first-round, she would point out areas that could be improved upon. Even if his confidence plummeted, the two would play a game of charades to help him in areas the calibress felt the design could improve upon, and that always ended in him laughing and feeling a smidge better.

Making a caliber look extra good and give them this spoiled treatment was just a way for business owners to show off who had the most gorgeous caliber – a status symbol, really. But staking out (Idro-willing) future business rivals wasn’t what he was here to do.

Smoke’s stall… Where is it? Gaining a few inches to his height by standing on the tips of his toes didn’t help him see over the heads of people. Of course, it didn’t. He was too fat for any of it to make a difference. If he tried to jump, his weight would probably cause an earthquake. Perhaps I can go back and ask Karo for directions to papi’s stall…? Alvalar turned around, but Karollus’ stall was far out of sight in this ocean of people–

Suddenly, he felt a hard thump hit him against his back. “Oof!” A voice called out.

Bobo! Alvalar cursed at himself. He felt his heartbeat nervously against his rib cage as he turned around. He locked eyes with an Athesanian Navi woman who had fallen on the ground and was mesmerized by how gorgeous she was, which only caused his heart to beat faster.

Dressed in a long cloak that ran down her ankles, revealing the cheaply-made armor and padded guards that were tightly strapped over her clothing, especially around her arm and leg, her foot was hidden inside a strange-looking boot while a very un-Navasarian double-edged straight sword was secured at her side by a sword-belt, whose grip and cross-guard looked as though it was constructed as a single unit and whose metal looked like it was sculpted to resemble the spiraling motion of a powerful tornado, the woman looked like she could’ve been a mercenary. With her bistre complexion, large, upturned lavender eyes that attracted attention away from the N brand that was seared into the flesh beneath her left eye, and her black microbraids that wrapped themselves tightly in a large bun, she certainly was a beautiful mercenary indeed.

Realizing he was ogling rather than helping, Alvalar quickly shook his head and held out his hand. “I-I-I-I’m so sorry. P-please, Señora…?”

“Huǒ-Hè. Huǒ-Hè Zhuó,” the woman replied with a beautiful smile that made Alvalar’s heart swoon. With reference to her appearance, his eyes grew wide in surprise to hear a name whose utter pronunciation was so un-Athesanian. He was expecting her name to have either a harsh K or E sound, like Athesanian names tend to be, but her name was rather rhythmic, going up and down with the harsh Hs acting as peaks. The E-sound at the end was like a valley at the bottom of the bumpy mountain, sounding more like a U than anything else.

Huǒ-Hè grabbed his hand and the birthday boy promptly pulled the mercenary woman up. “It was my fault, really,” Huǒ-Hè further explained in the crashing wave-like quickness and harshness of the Athaese language. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Karam go for helping me to my feet.”

Ready to reply in the fluent Athaese that he’s used for the entire eleven-years of his education and for business negotiations with clients (despite sharing a common mother-tongue: Nava), Alvalar opened his mouth, but no words came out. Even his tongue felt like it was paralyzed, unable to touch the roof of his mouth and produce words, and so he stood there with his mouth hung open. Flushed to the point that steam started to rise from his warm cheeks, the birthday boy tried again; he opened his mouth and could feel his lips and tongue move, but ultimately when it came to producing speech, there was none. His stomach began to ache and his palms grew sweaty, but no matter how nervous he became, it didn’t vomit out any words. Not even a stuttering string of words that was practically incomprehensible.

Strangely, those dazzling, lavender eyes of hers widened with a sense of realization. Realization of what, Alvalar wasn’t exactly sure. Maybe that he looked like an utter fool? Possibly.

However, Huǒ-Hè reached out her hand, and her lips began to quiver, readying itself for spee-

With a low chattering of her teeth and the fluffing up of fur, Misu stepped forward and positioned herself between her owner and the female mercenary like a broad-shouldered wall guarding an untouched garden filled with flowers from invaders.

As he watched his easy-going caliber become unusually aggressive, Alvalar’s heart started to race while his stomach did summersaults. “M-Misu!” he finally choked out. But the calibress didn’t so much glance back at him in response; she was strangely too tetchy right now.