September had rolled in. No more warm summer nights, no more long daylight hours. The days were getting colder and darker, with harsh and heartless winter waiting patiently for the end of an autumn season already too cold.

At least today the last of the summer days was lingering in the warm autumn air. Like the last slither of comfort before months of darkness…

Jet was at Mr Lark’s penthouse, looking down at the streets below. From up there, people appeared as ants, small, insignificant… And yet still leading fulfilling lives. He could see constellations of people enjoying the autumn sun, families, friends… Ordinarily, he’d be down there among them, alone in the crowded space, but Mr Lark had called for him. He was instead alone above.

It fit. He and Mr Lark hadn’t been having lunch together lately, so it was about time.

“Come to the table, Jethro,” Mr Lark instructed, as he set two plates down on the dining table. Jet stepped away from the large windows and took his seat across from Mr Lark. He suppressed a sneer at seeing what was being served for lunch.

Mr Lark poured himself a glass of wine. “Would you like some?” he asked, holding out the bottle.

“I have school this afternoon, sir, so better not,” Jet answered. Mr Lark nodded approvingly, then sat down in his seat, keeping the bottle near. He must not be having a good day.

“The Red Gent seems quieter,” Mr Lark said conversationally, as he began tucking into his steak. Jet nudged his steak to the side of the plate. Mr Lark knew full well that he was a vegetarian and yet the older man still opted to ignore that titbit about his charge.

Jet began eating the few roasted vegetables served with the main course. They’d have to do for lunch.

“He’s not quieter, sir,” Jet gently corrected. “He’s just not getting in our way. As I told you he would not. He was never a threat we needed to deal with and I’m glad we haven’t wasted resources on him. In fact, having him run around Soporifick has actually been beneficial.”

Maybe Jet sounded too arrogant, but he was factual and right. Mr Lark hummed.

“I suppose it will be hard to stop us at this stage anyway,” he decided. “And how has school been?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, sir,” Jet answered. “I am still top of the class. Homework has been a non-issue.” Jet stopped himself from talking. He didn’t want to mention how much more chummy his classmates had become, now that they were in their last year. They all seemed to have become nostalgic for the “good old days” of school. Made them more sociable and friendly, even to the voluntary outcasts.

“And?” Mr Lark prompted, noticing Jet’s chosen silence.

“… We want to go on a class trip somewhere nice.”

“When?”

“Next year, sir,” Jet answered.

“I see. Then you have permission to go,” Mr Lark told him.

“Very funny, sir,” Jet quietly mumbled. Next year would not exist, if Fulfremed succeeded in seizing power over reality.

It would have been nice to go on at least one school trip with his class… He hadn’t been allowed to go on one since his mother had died.

“That’s enough small talk,” Mr Lark decided, cleaning his mouth with a napkin. “Jethro, I called you here as I need you to sort out some business for me. Mr Bishop is calling in the favour I promised him, back when he agreed to give us financial backing.”

“I see.”

“As of late, Mr Bishop has not been cautious and his indiscretions have recently been observed by a bellhop at MYCG. Deal with the bellhop before he can be a problem to Mr Bishop.”

“Yes, sir. I will, sir,” Jet answered. So, a small-scale job, not something he needed to get Elender involved in. Good. He needed some space from the private investigator and something that didn’t end in murder sounded perfect right now.

He looked up at Mr Lark. “Is that all you have for me, sir?” he asked. It was the closest he could get to asking “Can you give me information about the bellhop” without outright asking. Mr Lark didn’t like it when Jet made demands.

“That is all,” Mr Lark answered dismissively.

Great. Bishop couldn’t even bother getting the bellhop’s name? Jet wasn’t even surprised. It was just another job made harder by men that couldn’t be bothered to remember the names of anyone outside of their small social circle of equals.

Jet quietly finished the rest of his vegetables. When he set the knife and fork aside, Mr Lark looked at Jet’s plate. He frowned. “Are you not going to eat your lunch?” he asked.

“Sir, I don’t eat meat,” Jet plainly answered. Mr Lark let out an exasperated sigh, like he was dealing with someone half Jet’s age.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jethro. Eat,” Mr Lark instructed. When Jet resisted, Mr Lark levelled a stern gaze at him. Jet looked away, lowering his head, which just angered Mr Lark. “What? Are you telling me you can easily take the lives of fellow men, but you draw the line at killing animals for food? When that is what we are biologically made to do?” Mr Lark sneered. “Eat, Jethro.”

“Of course, sir,” Jet answered.

He picked up the knife and fork again. He began cutting the meat up into tinier and tinier pieces, making the plate look like it had been tucked into. None of it touched his mouth.

When he’d finished essentially mincing the steak, he emptied his glass of water. He pushed the meat around his plate a while longer, then put his knife and fork down.

“Thank you for the food Mr Lark. I’m sorry I couldn’t finish it, I’m full,” Jet said apologetically, getting up from his chair. “I should be going. School starts again soon.” Despite announcing his departure, he still waited for Mr Lark’s permission.

Mr Lark looked at him, unimpressed and disappointed. After a few moments of awkward silence, he motioned for him to leave.

Jet quickly ducked out of the dining room and walked out of the apartment as fast as he could. He was still hungry. Just the roasted vegetables was not filling enough. He hadn’t been given enough to eat.

As he exited into the hallway, he came across a teenager, walking towards him. She was wearing a dress that looked rather too long and lacy to be modern and her long hair was tied into a side ponytail with a velvety, gold ribbon. When she noticed him, she broke into a smile.

“Oh! Hello Jet, I haven’t seen you in months,” she greeted warmly.

Allerlei Lark. Mr Lark’s one and only precious daughter. Jet barely had any contact with her, as Mr Lark didn’t like his beloved daughter anywhere near the bastard child of a call girl.

He offered her a polite nod.

“How do you do, Miss Lark?” he asked.

“I’ve already told you, just call me Allie,” Allerlei replied, sulking a little.

“I don’t think Mr Lark would like that.”

“Papa still has you calling him Mr Lark?” Allerlei asked, incredulously. She sighed. “I told him to cut it out. Papa is sponsoring you, after all. Shouldn’t you two be closer by now?”

“He is sponsoring me, Miss Lark. You’re confusing the sponsor system with the fostering system,” Jet replied.

“Yes, but you two have to have still grown at least a little close. You have lunch with him more than I do,” she pointed out and though she tried to hide it, there was some resentment there. “I… I don’t hold it against you,” she weakly claimed, slouching slightly in shame. “But if he spends so much time with you… shouldn’t he be, you know. More caring of you?”

“I don’t know what you mean. He is very caring, he even sees me as a son. Haven’t you been reading the tabloids?” Jet drily replied.

“You want me to believe the tabloids?” she asked with an amused smile, thinking he was trying to be funny, when really he was just barely concealing how sarcastic and bitter he wanted to be. “I guess you just finished having lunch with Papa.”

“Indeed. We had steak,” Jet answered. She frowned, tilting her head to the side.

“I thought you were vegetarian?” she asked.

“So did I,” Jet joked, despite himself. He cleared his throat. “Why are you here, Miss Lark? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“My teacher is sick, so I have the afternoon off,” she replied, sounding sad. When he looked at her questioningly, she explained, “To compensate, we’ve been given more homework and I’m not very good at studying alone. Oh! But you’re really smart, right? Do you suppose…”

“I’m sorry, Miss Lark, but my afternoon classes are not cancelled. I should be heading out.”

“We should stay in contact, maybe meet up some time,” Allerlei called after him. “Since we’re the children of the famous Lorimer Lark.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a child of Mr Lark.” A slave, maybe. “If you sincerely wish to stay in contact, why don’t you talk to your father? I’m sure he can arrange something,” Jet told her as he entered the lift.

“But Papa…”

Allerlei’s voice cut off as the lift doors slid shut.

Jet leaned against the walls of the lift. The less contact he had with Allerlei, the better. She was too normal to be the daughter of a sociopath like Mr Lark. Too normal to befriend a psychopath like Jet. The less she was tainted with the world of Fulfremed, the better.

He still felt sorry for her though. Whenever their paths crossed, she was always by herself, alone. It wasn’t by her choice either. From the way she clung to him and the few others in her social circle, he knew she was lonely. Mr Lark’s doing no doubt. He seemed to work hard at keeping his pure and precious daughter isolated from the filth of the world. Which apparently meant the whole world.

He wished he could help her, but he couldn’t. He had no way of helping her. And even if he did… He wasn’t entirely certain he would. He didn’t help people. That wasn’t who he was.

He let out a deep breath and thought about the Paracosmic. With the way his head spun, he was thinking a drink made by Aubrie sure would be nice right about now. The drinks she made were his only solace in this miserable world.

Unfortunately, school came first. And then he’d need to go to the MYCG and investigate the bellhop.

He would be unable to visit the Paracosmic today.

He closed his eyes. That was ok. He could wait. He could survive.

He was good at surviving.