I approached one of the jars, lifted the lid, and sniffed the contents. The sugary air made my mouth water. I plucked a marshmallow and placed it on the tip of my tongue where it melted into a delectable puddle.
“Obviously self-preservation isn’t innate,” Remo grumbled.
“Putting a horde ofmikosto sleep worked up my appetite.” Since the first marshmallow didn’t make my stomach cramp or mouth foam, I snatched two more, then replaced the lid so they didn’t float away. “I’m not sure what that says about my singing abilities, though,” I added between scrumptious bites.
Remo didn’t answer, his full attention on the red sphere bobbing on the thick russet waters of a crystal fountain sited in the middle of the shop. I sniffed the air, picking up notes of caramel and chocolate, then walked over to it and was about to dip my finger inside when Remo seized my wrist.
“I just ate some candy and didn’t keel over, Remo.”
He tipped his head toward the bronze ripples and the red sphere, which wasn’t a ball but an apple, the same unblemished one that had appeared in every world. “That song you belted out, I despise it almost as much as this apple.”
I tried to take the high road. Actually, I didn’t. I contemplated the high road but chose to stay the course. “Must you always be so vindictive?”
“Vindictive?”
His underhanded criticism and the sight of the stupid apple spoiled the sweetness lingering on my tongue. “Never mind.”
“I didn’t say I hated your singing; I said I hated the song.”
I stared at a bouquet of giant green lollipops spilling from a tall vase beside another turquoise door. “Where do you think that door leads? Back outside?”
A broad wall of navy fabric that smelled of sweat, loam, and man thwarted my sight of the door. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’d rather not stay on the subject of mymikos-charming skill that obviously doesn’t charm you.”
“You really only hear what you want to hear. I repeat: I. Despise. The song.” Did he hope his clipped tone would help me understand? I understood fine without him having to mimic a droid.
Borrowing his tone, I answered, “I. Don’t. Like it. Either.”
“Then why did you ask the damn DJ to play it all freaking night?”
I blinked. “You were there?”
His jaw reddened. I didn’t think he was embarrassed as much as miffed I hadn’t noticed he was part of mylucionagaentourage.
“I never asked him to play it all night. I just went to tell him it was good.” I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, flinching at the sting. “Until he played it over and over. Then I thought it was annoying.” After a beat, I said, “Sorry for having missed your attendance.”
“It’s fine.” He didn’t sound fine about it.
“Were you at the club for fun or for work?”
“Fun. Until you came along.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“That’s not— What I meant was, if I’m off duty but in your presence, I keep an eye out for potential risks.”
“Should’ve gone to another club the second you saw me arrive.”
Silence beat loudly between us before he said, “Yeah. I should’ve.”
“Why didn’t you?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Your ear’s bleeding.”
I glanced down at my fingertips, red where I’d touched my wound, and rubbed them together. My blood turned ochre before flaking off. “So? Why did you stay?”
“Because it was a new club, and I wanted to see what all the rage was about.”
