It’s all part of the uniform.
Two unfamiliar guards stand watch at the gate, and both appear bored. I saunter forward with swagger, fingers tracing the edges of my fake ID in my pocket.
“Mornin’,” I say, channeling Cameron’s twang and throwing a thick accent into my greeting.
The Dreven guard’s head lifts before his spine straightens. His tail is draped over his shoulder in the laid-back way most of his kind prefer, though it flicks with interest.
“Soldier,” he says in return. “ID?”
“One step ahead of you, darlin’,” I tease as I hand it over. His muted red cheeks darken to crimson as my fingers brush hisin an openly flirtatious touch. He barely glances at my ID card aside from noting the name printed across the top.
“Mikhail… don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts.”
“You saying you would’ve remembered me?” I tease with a wink.
He flushes deeper as he hands my ID back, completely thrown off his game. “That’s… I just… thought you…”
I chuckle as I tuck the card into my pocket. “I haven’t visited in several years.”
“Are you, uh, staying for long?”
“I could be convinced.” I wink, gesturing at the metal gate. “Does a sweet thing like you come here often?”
He chokes on a laugh as the other guard huffs in a sound that’s openly irritated. “Most days, yeah.”
“Well,” I drawl as I straighten his collar, “if I find myself with some free time, maybe I’ll swing by again.”
“Yeah, that'd be good,” he says as he swallows hard.
His fingers curl tight around his tail like he’s trying to hide how the tip flicks. A quick, nervous scratch at his jaw follows before he forces a nod.
“I’ll see you around…” I trail off expectantly, and I should probably feel guilty at how flustered he is.
“Ankir.”
Our shoulders brush as I move to walk past him, and I speak low in his ear. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again, Ankir.”
Flirting is first-class camouflage, and I won’t be convinced otherwise. People assume you’re too flashy to be hiding anything, and half the time they’re too busy picturing you with your pants around your ankles to pay attention.
I glance behind me, and Ankir’s eyes go wide at being caught staring.
Case in point.
I flutter my fingers at him before disappearing into the crowd. It’s busier than the last time I was here, and my senses prickle from all the bodies so close. Everyone is brushing arms, bumping shoulders, and breathing the same air, crammed tighter than I’m used to anymore.
Skin tones of every color and shade blend into the masses. Monsters of every shape and size create a bustle, and a few humans are sprinkled into the mix. They mostly keep to themselves, though no one bats an eye at them.
Aside from the military, there is no segregation in the city apart from self-inflicted divides. Humans tend to stick to shops and restaurants run by other humans, and monsters gravitate toward their own kind as well. Advertising never mentions these things outright, but the signs are there.
‘Extra-large seating available’ is more of a draw for a Bhotan or Nu’vak than any human.
Uniforms are plentiful. Black leather stands out as much as it blends in, with soldiers on patrol and others out to grab a bite to eat between shifts.
No one pays attention to anyone else, and the anonymity is freeing, even if liberty inside these walls is its own kind of illusion.
After a few blocks, the sweet scent of baked goods floats in my direction. Butter and sugar with a hint of cinnamon make my stomach growl, and I follow my nose to a street market. Shadows cover many of the stands, cast from the tall buildings that frame the streets, but they don’t take away from the color here.
Pink banners and blue-striped canopies, handwritten signs for wares that dot the stalls in rainbows. A few advertise sandwiches or wraps, and another sells meat pies with flaking crusts, but it’s the steaming platter of rum-soaked donuts that catches my eye.
