Well, that was the plan, anyway. That was the plan until she took a few steps inside and was treated to the sight of someone very familiar shouting a folk song with a young, red-haired man. Anybody else, any Frithian or Heiwanese would see someone with vivid green hair and think nothing of it. To them, it’s not noteworthy. Reale, however, has only known one girl with coloring like that. Anybody else would see this person in men’s clothes, without makeup, and wouldn’t even consider, “hey, that kid looks like the princess.” In Pace, however, clothes aren’t nearly as gendered. Reale identifies her right away. She may have a scarf Reale assumes once covered half her face, but it’s fallen down to allow her to eat and drink. Even if it had been covering her, Reale sees that shade of green and automatically thinks “Cloud.” The rest just falls into place when she looks a little closer.

Still, this person hardly resembles the Cloud she knows today. The princess is quiet, submissive, noble, and graceful with a blade. Reale stares at the person before her, instead seeing someone as visibly happy as possible. She’s beaming, gesturing in large movements, and singing at the top of her lungs. She’s actually smiling, and not that polite little upturn of her lips she meets the aristocracy with for manner’s sake. Smiling! Really smiling! Is she drunk? She seems too stable in her movement for that, not teetering as she twists her body to aid in the fluidity of her hand motions. This is not the princess. This is Cloud. But what in the world is she doing here if she’s a spy?

Cloud’s eyes subconsciously scan the room as she keeps singing. Then, she stops. Her smile falls. Reale mourns the loss. The red-eyed man continues the song as Cloud sits, frozen, eyes having met Reale’s. Reale holds eye-contact. Cloud may blend in among her fellow Frithians and Heiwanese, but Reale is ten shades too brown for that. She may not be wearing much makeup, an option Cloud’s gone for as well, but Cloud spots her easily, and knows her face. Reale can see Cloud’s mind race behind those lightning green eyes. She watches as the thought clicks into place: Neither of us are meant to be here. Cloud sets her cup down and pulls up her scarf past her nose, eyes all the more striking now that they’re the only feature visible on her face. And, well, the flush on her face is a complement to their color. A man with light hair and dark skin leans in beside her, so she must be saying something. He nods, stands, and steps away as Cloud appears to address the table. A woman there smiles and brushes her off. Then, Cloud, too, rises from her chair, hands propped on the table to prevent her body from swirling with her head. And then she turns. With eyes fixed on Reale, Cloud makes her way through the crowd. What’s Reale supposed to do? Run? She can teleport home, but Cloud can find her. What’s Reale supposed to say? What explanation can she give for this? Reale takes too long to decide on a course of action and Cloud ends up snatching her elbow, dragging her outside of the bar and into the night. She’s yanked to the side of the building, into its shadows, before Cloud releases her and folds her arms. Reale notes that it’s a very convenient way to stand if Cloud wants to quickly grab the swords at her hips. She also notes that Cloud’s leaning against the wall, which is a very convenient way to hide a drunken sway.

“I like the new look,” Reale opens with, grinning.

“What are you doing here?” Cloud ignores.

Reale chuckles, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my country,” Cloud retorts.

“Is it?” Reale questions. “I was under the impression this territory was under rebel control. If they win, do they have another name, or are they going to stick with Frith?”

“This is funny to you.” Her eyebrow arches, unamused. The hazy look to her eyes diminishes any threatening aura she’s trying to project. Reale looks at Cloud and sees a hissing kitten.

“I think it’s hilarious, yes,” Reale shines, straightening up her thin sleeve, wrinkled by Cloud’s earlier vice grip. “If you’re worried that I’m going to tell your mother, you don’t need to be.”

“That’s not why-” Cloud hesitates. She sighs, frustrated. That’s not why Cloud’s concerned. If Reale was going to rat her out to her mother, she would’ve done it when Cloud stayed over at her place. Why exactly is she concerned? Her shoulders slump slightly, easing. Reale’s eyes sparkle, watching Cloud openly emote. She’s definitely drunk. “Seriously,” she continues, less accusatory, “Why are you here? Isn’t it a bad idea for you? You’re, um. Noticeable. How did you even recognize me so quickly?” Reale was staring Cloud down from the doorway! So, she instantly knew!

“Perhaps it was presumptuous to assume the first person with saturated green hair I saw in the room might be you, but upon a closer inspection I was correct, so.” She shrugs. “Anyway, I came here trying to confirm a suspicion of mine.” Reale smiles, not continuing. Cloud stares. Her brows furrow. Reale refrains from cooing at her. She clears her throat. “Cloud, do you recall when you asked me if Pace would support a Frithian civil revolt, and I said maybe?”

Reale can hear Cloud's slow intake of breath drag through her nose. “...I do, yes,” Cloud says, the realization already dawning on her, heat rising to her face.

“And how long ago was that?” Reale prompts. Cloud slumps further.

“About three weeks ago, I believe.” Reale stares at Cloud as she avoids Reale’s eyes. Cute.

“How bizarre,” Reale declares. 

“Truly,” Cloud responds, a stray hair from her ponytail dangling in front of her face.

Reale decides to give the poor woman some mercy. “You had something to do with it. I assume espionage since there’s no way you’d go into battle. Too risky.” Was she really that obvious? It’s been one battle, and someone’s already found out. It's Reale, but still. What if something tips Summer off? She didn’t say anything nearly as obvious to her, but she basically ranted literal treason to her when she talked about hating Blaze. Maybe she’s not cut out for this. She could get so many people killed. What was she thinking? She can’t do this! 

Reale brushes a loose hair behind Cloud’s ear. Cloud… doesn’t flinch. Her ears redden, though. “Hey, are you okay?” Reale asks. "It's not like I'm going to use this to blackmail you or anything. I'm not a monster."

“It's just—You figured me out so quickly,” Cloud murmurs, meeting Reale’s eyes once more. 

“Well, yeah, because I’ve known that you’ve hated your mother for years now,” Reale replies. “Imagining you participating in a revolt isn’t a leap from what I already know. Huh? What’s exposed of Cloud’s face must say it all, since she follows up, “You may not be the same child I was friends with, but you still show anger the same way. Your jaw locks. It’s subtle nowadays, but still there. You used to make the same face when you lost races or bets. From what I’ve seen at meetings and parties, I’m pretty sure that’s just what your mother thinks you look like now.” Reale snickers. Her expression mellows out before continuing, “Maybe I only noticed because I hate her, too.” Reale pulls some of the hair escaping her veil, in twist-braids today, over her shoulder. “After all, she stole my best friend away from me.” Cloud stares. She never knew Reale felt that way. She figured she would dislike her for drifting away, even if it was her mother’s order. The order being made is in itself Cloud’s fault.

“I’m sorry I haven’t properly written,” Cloud mumbles. “I know I said I would at the party, but… I’ve been busy.”

“I can imagine,” Reale grins. She's glad Cloud's going against Blaze, sure, but she's also made a couple friends, it seems. That's good. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t know why I was concerned when I saw you,” she admits.

“I understand,” Reale nods, suppressing laughter.

“I’m sorry I stormed at you like that.”

“It’s okay, but I appreciate the apology.” The night’s quiet creeps between them, though it’s a stretch to call it that since they’re just outside a lively bar. “Well!” Reale props her hands on her hips. “Tonight was more successful than I thought it’d be! I wasn’t expecting to verify anything on day one. Since I found what I was seeking, I should head back. It's getting late, after all."

“It’s like twelve?” Cloud tilts her head.

“... Uh-huh?” Reale mirrors the gesture. “That’s late. It’s morning.”

“Uh, okay,” Cloud shrugs dismissively. “Well, um. I promise to write you, for real this time. I really did mean that at the party, that I’d like to write you, to be friends again.” Reale grins, then yawns, covering her mouth as she does.

“Alright, I’m looking forward to it. Good night, try to get some sleep,” she waves, her hand glowing purple and illuminating up the alley. "And by the way, I like the hair."

“Oh! I-um. Thank you. Good night.” And with a purple ring and a flash, she’s gone. Cloud stands dumbly, holding her elbow as her other arm dangles beside her.

“She seems nice,” Nicolas smiles down from the roof with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Thanks for keeping watch,” Cloud calls, not noticing it. “I wouldn’t want someone to overhear if she said something incriminating.” Which she did, so it was a good call.

“No problem, kid,” he salutes, disappearing behind the building’s edge. Cloud sighs and leans against the brick. Something like guilt twists in her gut. She’d love to blame it on the alcohol, but it’d be a lie. Reale is nice.

She’s also rather pretty. Cloud screws her eyes shut, bringing her hands to her face.

Cloud's a terrible person.