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Somewhat stunned by the quiet din and rich aromas of a restaurant in the upper levels of Shude, 17—no, 18-year-old Taru fiddled with the amber-set clasps of her silky brown and copper dress suit. It was the first and last she would ever own. Enna had bought it specifically for tonight, but she felt so uncomfortable in all the swooshy, glossy fabrics that when the custodians would tell her it had gone missing the following week, she would only really be upset because Enna had bought it. 

As the waiter led the two of them into the main body of the restaurant, she glanced around in half-wonder. Tables, chairs, booths and sofas filled with people and made of rich mahogany and taupe leather sprawled around the spaces—some up long flights of stairs, some down short sets of steps, others tucked away around half walls or snuggled into corners. There was so much space between each of them that her whole room could’ve fit in some of those gaps. Every seating area felt private, even though none really were. All of that openness, and the way people gave her familiar up-down looks as she walked by, ensured that the half of Taru’s emotions not taken by wonder was wound into a knotted ball of terror.

Behind her eyes played memories of wandering onto the wrong side of the orphanage. 

She pulled in a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let it out slowly between pursed lips. Enna looked back, his eyes questioning under a pinched brow. She smiled, seeing his face, and he smiled back before turning forward just in time to see himself walk into the waiter.

After copious apologies from Enna and assurances from the waiter that they really were just fine, the pair were finally seated and left with their menus, each leather cover emblazoned with Stewart’s in glorious gold leaf. Taru was just glad to be seated in a corner far away from the main area with something other than people’s judgement to focus on. Never mind that, despite Enna’s patient tutelage, she still had trouble reading.

“How’d you like it, then?” Enna asked once the waiter had taken their order for drinks, his hopeful smile almost hidden by the thick moustache he had twirled into twin curls at either end.

Taru looked up at the mosaic ceiling, where tiles drifted around one another as the purple-grey clouds rolled overhead and a harpie—or was it a sirin?—glided higher on the air currents, all in a deep blue sky pinpricked with twinkling starlight. She looked down into Enna’s expectant face and smiled. “It’s amazing,” she said. “Not sure I fit in much: it’s not like anywhere I’ve ever been before.”

Enna’s eyes creased at the corners. “That’s exactly how I feel,” he confessed. “Lots of fancy people and… performance… but the food is supposed to be amazing up here.”

Taru shook her head, suddenly remembering the aircarriage ride up through the levels. “I’ve never been this high before.”

“Me neither. Gotta keep remembering to take big deep breaths.” His hands settled on his stomach then whipped out to grab hers. “Taru,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “Happy birthday.” His brow fell in. “Delivery day? No. Happy you-being-here day.”

Taru scoffed and he lightly slapped the back of her hand.

“You deserve it,” he insisted.

She pursed her lips and scowled deeply, then laughed when he rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Enna,” she said, and he smiled before slowly retrieving his hands.

Cutlery clinked against plates. Chatter rose and fell beneath the scandalised laughter of a distant table. Taru looked out into the room to find at least three people looking at her. Just as hastily as they looked away, so did she, returning her attention to the napkin—an expertly folded swan—in the middle of her bowl.

“One bottle of firewine and a carafe of water for the table. Are you ready to order your food?”

Taru blinked up at the waiter who blinked pleasantly back at her. “Uh…”

“Not yet, sorry,” Enna butt in with his gentlest smile. “Give us about five minutes. If you don’t mind.”

“Very good, sir,” the waiter said with a small bow before pouring them each a glass of wine and water and promptly leaving.

Taru felt all the muscles in her face pull down long. “Very good, sir,” she repeated, drawing out the sir. “How much did you spend on this table for the waiters to be treating us like governors?”

Enna chuckled into a cut-crystal glass, throwing rainbows out with the sound. “That’s just how they do things up here, little skvader.”

Taru shifted around on her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Really, Enna, how much—?”

“Enna Charsen?”

Enna’s head whipped round, his body following so that, his back nearly completely to Taru, he rose from his seat.

“Gods, please sit down,” the sort-of stranger said, laying a hand on Enna’s shoulder. His asymmetric face had a fixed half-smile in which one eye appeared keen and the other, comfortable.

Enna’s skin darkened as he said, “Marcellus,” in a breathy, unreadable way and braced the newcomer’s free arm to the elbow, full and firm, folding deep grooves into an otherwise pristine blue dinner jacket.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” Marcellus said, letting go of Enna’s arm to reach across and take Taru’s hand. “Aether, isn’t it?”

“That’s me,” Taru said, gripping his warm hand.

Marcellus’ smile turned him half vibrant, half gentle. “I’m Selwyn Marcellus Ellsen, overseer of engine one. You can call me Marcellus.”

Taru’s spine snapped straight. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t recognise—”

“Please don’t get all rigid,” Marcellus laughed, shifting from foot to foot and fiddling with one of the tight ringlets of nut-brown hanging over his only slightly paler face. “I’m no superior. And I don’t expect you to recognise me, Aether. You answer to Enna for now, and I do everything I can to steer well clear of that noisy thing you work inside.”

Taru laughed because the creases of Marcellus’ eyes made her want to. Then, as if pulled by some unbrookable force, the overseer’s attention slipped back to Enna. There it stayed.

“Isn’t the air a little thin for you around these parts?” he teased, and Enna scowled, though it lacked any edge.

“I’m breathing just fine,” he groused, and Marcellus laughed.

“Taking deep breaths, I hope.”

“The deepest.”

Marcellus opened his mouth, glanced between Enna’s eyes, and closed it.

Taru looked down as the pair launched into small talk. Staring fixedly at her napkin swan, she tried not to look and see who might be looking at her. She failed. Two members of the same table slyly watched her from the corners of their eyes before returning to delicately slicing their meals. 

“Is this a special occasion, then?” Marcellus asked, loud enough to draw Taru back in.

“It’s Aether’s birthday,” Enna said.

Marcellus’ eyebrows lifted. “Is it? How old? No, let me guess.” He stepped away from Enna, narrowing his eyes at Taru. “Sixteen?” he guessed, pointing at her.

Taru’s face screwed up with displeasure and Marcellus laughed ruefully. 

“That’s a no, then.”

“It’s the eighteenth year since she was taken in by the orphanage,” Enna said. Something about the way he said orphanage made it sound like a challenge.

“Oh, you’re adopted?” Marcellus asked Taru, eyes wide, and she pressed her lips tight, looking away.

“Sponsored,” Enna corrected quickly.

“Gods, sorry. Said the wrong thing, haven’t I?”

“There’s better things you could’ve said,” Enna muttered, and Marcellus grinned.

“That’s one thing I can be sure of with you,” he said, touching Enna’s shoulder, “you always tell me what I need to hear. Never what I want. With that in mind—” he snatched his hand back and rocked onto his back foot, leaning against a nearby pillar with his hand, then his elbow, then his hand again “—as it’s a special occasion, how would you like to come to mine after you’ve eaten?”

Enna glanced across at Taru, then gave a mournful look to Marcellus with a quick shake of the head. “I’m sorry, but Aether’s still eighteen.”

Smiling benignly between them, Marcellus said, “Well I know that.”

“She still lives at the orphanage.”

Marcellus frowned over his smile. “Is that a problem?”

Enna sighed and said, “She’s got a curfew.”

“Oh!” Marcellus exclaimed as though everything suddenly made sense. “That’s a shame.”

Taru narrowed her eyes: it didn’t sound like he thought it was much of a shame at all. Quite the opposite, actually.

“But, then…” Marcellus continued, “what about…?” He quickly wet his lips and raised his eyebrows at Enna.

Enna frowned. “What about what?”

“Well,” Marcellus fumbled, rapidly deflating and stepping away from the pillar, “what I mean is, it’s not necessary or anything. I just thought, maybe you’d like to…” He paused like the end of the question was obvious and Enna would answer. When he didn’t, Marcellus stammered on, “I-I mean, as I said—” he shook his head suddenly, as though waking from a particularly unpleasant daydream “—never mind.” He forced a smile that turned half his face saccharine and the other half pained. “I’ll see you at tomorrow’s meeting.” He turned and offered a more gentle smile to Taru. “Lovely to meet you, Aether.”

“You too,” Taru said, and watched him leave. Marcellus returned to his lonely table on the other side of the room, downing a glass and then another of red wine just as the waiter returned to Taru’s table to take their order. Embarrassed that they still hadn’t decided what to eat, Enna requested another five minutes. He spent them reading the menu to Taru and explaining the fancier items. In the end, hungry and overwhelmed by the options, she said she’d have whatever he was having and, when the waiter returned, Enna ordered something she didn’t understand.

As they settled in to wait for their food, Enna turned slightly in his seat, plastering a pleasant expression on his face as he glanced around the room. When his attention fell on Marcellus, and Marcellus’ lifted to meet his, the pair suddenly stiffened, smiled awkwardly, and looked away.

Taru looked away too and caught the eye of someone over the edge of a mezzanine. She didn’t know if they’d already been looking at her, and she tried to believe she didn’t care. With two bright red eyes and skin nearly translucent in its pallor, if there’s one thing she was used to, it was being stared at. Still…

“Why don’t you ask him to join us?” she asked Enna, who offered her the fakest frown she had ever seen on a person’s face.

“Who?”

“Who do you think?” she taunted. “The waiter?”

Enna huffed a laugh, his head turning in the direction of Marcellus before he stopped. “You don’t know him very well and this is your birthday meal,” he said, playing with the stem of his cut crystal glass. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Taru gnawed on her bottom lip.

Enna noticed. “What’s up?”

“I just think… he looks to fit in here, dun’t he?”

Enna’s shoulders dropped.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Taru rushed, “and these clothes feel really nice. And I’m sure the food’s gonna be great.”

Glancing from one side of her face to the other, Enna offered a sad smile and asked, “But?”

Taru slumped, staring at her cloth swan. “But people keep looking at me. I don’t really fit in. Not here.” Then, quieter, “Not anywhere, really.” She pushed the swan’s beak with a finger. “I stand out like a sore thumb, me.”

Enna reached out to take her hand, gently stroking the back of it. “’Ere, look at me,” he said. 

After a moment, she did. 

He leant forward. “You wanna know a secret?” he whispered, and she nodded. “Marcellus doesn’t fit in. No one does. No one fits into nothing, not really. Once these people go home and get out of those fancy clothes and take off all the powder and lotion, they look just as different as you and me. And just the same. Just as nuddy.”

Taru laughed, despite herself. 

Enna gripped her hand tight. “Just as vulnerable. The ones who’re looking at you? They’re the ones what don’t realise it. Probly never will. They don’t know that the only worthwhile way to fit in is to fit in your own skin. Not wearing anyone else’s. And, y’know what? I think you fit your skin better than anyone I’ve ever met. I really admire that about you, Taru.”

Taru’s shoulders came up around her ears, her face suddenly hot. 

“So let ‘em look, yeah?” he said, sitting back. “What they don’t realise is it says more about them than it ever will about you.”

Taru glanced aside to find she cared a little less that she caught someone looking. They weren’t really looking at her, anyway. “Still think you should ask him to join us,” she grumbled.

Enna laughed. “Maybe later,” he said, but he never did.

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