The photographer nods and keeps shooting. I hold my smile until my face aches.
The Channel Seven interview is worse. The reporter is young, enthusiastic, and armed with questions that sound supportive until you actually parse them.
"So the cultural exchange program really changed your life?"
"It brought additional help when I needed it, yes."
"And that help came in the form of, well, a very specific individual." She leans forward, eyes bright with that particular hunger for revelation. "Can you tell us about meeting Stone?"
I recite the sanitized version. The awning. The books. His earnest apologies and unexpected carpentry skills. I leave out the part where his hands on mine made my breath catch. WhereI went home that first night and couldn't stop thinking about green skin and soft eyes.
"And when did the relationship become romantic?"
There it is. The question she actually wanted to ask from the start.
"That's private," I say, keeping my voice level.
"Of course, of course. But you understand, there's public interest. The program's under review, and your situation is, well, it's become something of a focal point."
"My business partnership with Stone is professional and productive. Anything else is personal."
She switches tactics. "Some people have expressed concern about the power dynamics. He was placed here through a city program. You were his host business. Do you think that created an inappropriate situation?"
My jaw locks. Tess shifts beside me, ready to intervene, but I answer before she can.
"I think consenting adults are capable of navigating relationships. Stone and I established clear boundaries. We still maintain them."
"But you are involved romantically?"
"I don't see how that's relevant to the program's success."
"Isn't it, though?" She tilts her head, sympathetic predator. "If the program is creating situations where personal relationships complicate professional ones, doesn't that suggest a need for better oversight?"
This is Blair's talking point. Dressed up in concern, delivered with a smile, but the same poison underneath.
"The program creates opportunities for connection. Sometimes those connections are professional. Sometimes they're personal. Sometimes they're both." I meet her eyes. "That's not a flaw. That's being human. Or orc. Or whatever species you happen to be."
Tess coughs. The reporter blinks, recalibrating.
"So you'd say the program is working as intended?"
"I'd say it's working better than anyone expected."
After they leave, Tess collapses into the reading chair. "That was either brilliant or suicidal. I can't decide which."
"Did I screw up?"
"No. You were honest. Which is somehow more terrifying." She scrolls through her phone. "Okay, the blogger's next. She's actually cool, I promise. Queer, lefty, thinks the whole 'human-first' thing is fascist nonsense in a pantsuit."
"So I can relax?"
"God no. Never relax." But she's grinning. "Just be yourself. That's working so far."
The blogger, Maya, shows up in ripped jeans and a shirt that saysNormalize Weird. She orders the most complicated coffee on our menu, settles into a corner booth, and opens with: "So, Blair's a bigot and you're in love with an orc. Want to tell me how we burn her narrative to the ground?"
I like her immediately.
We talk for an hour. Really talk, not performing for a camera or dodging landmines. Maya asks about the bookstore's history, about Aunt Rene, about what made me take the placement program risk. She asks about Stone not like he's a curiosity but like he's a person I love, which is such a relief I almost cry.
