though it was actually quite hard to say, because he made no efforts to see her, and she made no efforts to see him, and in fact their next meeting happened accidentally, when she ran into him abruptly on shift.

"Good morn," she began, and then saw that it was him, and her voice flattened a bit. She finished, mouth tightened as she finished. "...ing. What do you want?"

Rael glanced up at her. "My usual," he replied, but she was off before he really finished, and when she got another waitress to bring him his food she saw him again, bluntly confronting her at the entrance to the kitchen.

"Come with me."

"Go away."

"Come on."

"I'm working."

"Windy," Rael said firmly, "come on," and finally Soura said, "For sky's sake, Windy, just go," her voice fast and eyes downcast, and Windy sighed, untwisted her apron and undid her tie and strode outside. The sun was at its sharpest angle and burned into her eyes; she raised an arm to fend it off, and before she could ask him what he wanted, Rael was off: "It was him, I'm sure we saw him yesterday."

"You saw him," she corrected, and then grabbed his arm and pulled him into the side alleyway, noticing eyes staring at them from behind the Tillandsia's windows. "I didn't see him. Nine days ago," she continued to correct him. They were in the shade now but it meant little; light still found them, reflected in the facets of quartz gravel and dust lining the cafe's walls.

He looked surprised; then rubbed his head, looking, for once, abashed.

"Are you done?" she asked. "I need to get back."

"Win —"

"I'll be done in half an hour," Windy said, studying the shadows of a clock poking out from beneath the Tillandsia's eaves. "Just go in and finish your quill and we can talk more about him after then, alright?"

"Okay," he agreed, easily enough, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay," he repeated.

Windy forced a smile, reached out and arranged his scarf.

Awkward to have to deal with Rael when he was like this. But no one else stuck around when he began talking about..."Phayel." As it was, when she returned to his table, he was beaming at her.

"Quill was delicious as usual," he said, and she smiled at him, hesitant.

"Great," she replied, and swallowed. "Well, what's going on?"

"Hmm," he said, and looked thoughtful, and then looked down at the table. He began fiddling with leftover strands of his quill, the smaller, tougher portions that had gotten soggy with sugar and cream and milk. His eyes were fixed down as he asked, "Do you want to go see a movie?"

"Sure," she said, calming. "That would be great."