“Toa?” they asked.
“You are so very welcome, Bryce,” Toa Sian said, and both he and Zef relaxed.
“Thank you. I am very much looking forward to observing.”
“You may partake,” they said, sounding amused again. “I am sure Zefryn will—how do you humans say it? Show you the strings?”
Under normal circumstances, Bryce might have corrected the verbal trip, but since he wanted to make a good impression, he nodded. “Yup, that’s what us humans say. All the time.”
Like they knew he was lying, Zef arched a brow at him, but they didn’t dispute his claim. “Indeed.”
“Well, I leave you in Zefryn’s capable hands,” Toa Sian said as they pressed a palm to Zef’s cheek. “What you requested is in my office.”
As Toa Sian left to greet another familial group, Zef stepped closer to Bryce and gestured for him to follow them. He did, and they passed the merry band of musicians, garnering more than a few curious stares that Zef either didn’t notice or preferred to ignore.
“This the common house,” Zef said, leading him into the A-frame. “Our elders work here and hold meetings to hear concerns and the needs of the community. It is also open to the public to be used for events or gatherings. Or simply a place for friends to come together.”
“Community center,” Bryce said, and they nodded.
“Exactly. Come, Toa Sian left something for us in their office,” they said, wings fluttering in excitement as they led him toward the back and into one of the office rooms.
It looked like any old office with bookshelves, a desk, and a computer. Nothing was locked up, and other than the boom-barriers at the complex entrance, Bryce had seen nothing to note any security. Because they all simply trusted each other.
Picking up a pile of pink fabric from the desk, Zef faced him. “Toa Mau made these for you at my request. I wanted to make them myself, but I did not have the time.”
“They made me Mantodean clothes?” he asked as he took the clothes and unfolded the tunic-like top, and Zef nodded.
The white embroidery was a mastery of artful stitching, creating floral designs and bursts of fireworks. His pants were white, but the stitching there was pink, to match the top. Breathable and light, the fabric slipped over his palm like silk.
“It’s beautiful,” he said.
“Yes. They did a wonderful job.”
“You’ll have to introduce me, so I can thank them. And you too, of course. For making the request. Thanks.”
“You are welcome,” they said as they shut the office door. “Would you like to wear them?”
“Now?” he asked, and Zef nodded. “Sure, but what about you? Where are your clothes?”
They touched their conservative button-up. “I was not sure if you would want to wear the garments, so I dressed in these. I did not want you to feel uncomfortable or out of place in your street clothes.”
His heart flipped inside his chest. “I’d love to wear these, but only if you have special garments too.”
From their purse, they withdrew clothes in the same shade of pink as his, and firecrackers popped in Bryce’s stomach. They were going to match, and it did strange and wonderful things to his heartrate.
“Then I shall change as well,” Zef said, fidgeting with the pink tunic. They watched him expectantly, and it took him an extra second to realize they were waiting for him to turn around and grant them privacy.
“Right,” he blurted, spinning around to face the bookshelf. “I’ll just… get dressed.”
Feeling a tad awkward, he shrugged off his coat, then his flannel. Keeping his undershirt on, he slipped the silky tunic over his head and wriggled, relieved when he met only the barest hint of resistance. It hung loosely, but in a purposeful, stylish way.
Fabric swished behind him, and he blushed hotly as he fully realized that he and Zef were… undressing together. In the same room.
He shook off the stupid embarrassment. Zef wasn’t peeking, and he wouldn’t either—no matter how much that tiny voice in the back of his brain encouraged him to.
His belt clinked as he dropped his jeans and stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. The pants were just as loose and breezy as the top, and he tied them securely to ensure they wouldn’t fall off. He didn’t want to scar any hatchlings with his thick, hairy human thighs.
“Are you, uh, done?” Bryce asked, and when they replied affirmatively, he turned around. “Do these button all the way up?”
