"High praise from the elder council."
I help him unfold a banner. "They're scared I'm assimilating. That loving Lacy means erasing myself."
"Are you?"
"No. But I understand the fear." I smooth the fabric, reading the slogan:Cultural Exchange Strengthens Community.Generic enough to be safe, specific enough to mean something.
"You learn anything useful?" Darius asks.
"That I'm either brave or foolish, possibly both."
"I could've told you that." He stands back, surveying the setup. "Also, I did some digging on Blair. Thought you should know what we're up against."
I go still. "And?"
"Her biggest campaign donor is Marcus Rodriguez. Owns a chain of manufacturing plants on the south side. Guy's old money, old fear. Doesn't like change, doesn't trust non-humans, thinks the cultural exchange program threatens traditional business culture."
"So it's not really about policy. It's about one rich guy's prejudice."
"It's always about that, eventually." Darius pulls out his phone, shows me a photo. Rodriguez at some gala, silver-haired and smiling, hand on Blair's shoulder like he owns her. "But here's the thing. Rodriguez is scared because he doesn't understand. He's never met an orc, never eaten our food, never heard our stories. We're just an abstract threat to his abstract idea of how things should be."
Understanding clicks. "So if we humanize ourselves?—"
"Not humanize. Make real." Darius taps the phone. "Show him and people like him that orcs aren't threats or symbols. We're neighbors, coworkers, partners. Boring, everyday, normal parts of city life."
"That's what I've been trying to do."
"I know. But you've been doing it for Lacy, for yourself. Now we do it strategically." He gestures to the display tables. "Mara's cooking demo at eleven. I've invited local business owners, including two who supply Rodriguez' plants. Let them taste orc food, meet orc chefs, see us as people who add value instead of disruption."
"You think that'll work?"
"I think it's better than nothing." He meets my eyes. "Look, Blair's going to make her case based on fear. Unknown equalsdangerous. But fear shrinks when it meets reality. When you put a face and a name and a grandmother's recipe on the thing people fear, it's harder to hate."
I think about the elder council's concerns. About visibility and risk and representation.
"I'm tired of being a symbol," I say. "Good or bad, I'm tired of it."
"Then stop being a symbol. Be Stone. Be the guy who cooks too much and writes terrible poetry and loves a human woman with the kind of fierce stupidity that orcs are famous for." Darius grins. "That's a lot harder to legislate against than some abstract cultural threat."
He's right. Abstract fears are easy to manipulate. But actual people, living actual lives, messily real and undeniably present? That's harder to erase.
"What time's the cooking demo?" I ask.
"Eleven. You should come. Bring Lacy if she's willing. Show Rodriguez' people what positive integration looks like."
"We've got testimony prep."
"Do it after. This matters too."
I check my phone. Message from Lacy:Where are you? Getting worried.
I text back:Be home in fifteen. Have an idea. Trust me?
Her response comes immediately:Always.
That easy trust. That's what I'm fighting for. Not the right to perform orc culture for human approval. The right to be trusted, to be loved, to be seen as completely myself and still chosen.
I help Darius finish setting up, then head back to Lacy's apartment. She's waiting with coffee and worried eyes.
