Loosely Lawful | 18

Sera woke with a start, nearly tumbling off of Dr. Crev’s couch, and found six pairs of eyes peering down at her.

“She’s awake!”

“Is she really the lawyer? Dr. Kulaiana said she was undergoing doctrinal revelation, but she doesn’t look that impressive.”

“All lawyers look unimpressive.”

Sera had never taken the bar exam. She wasn’t technically a lawyer. But it was hard to get a word in edgewise when the six people all gawking at her just kept chattering.

“Can I interview you for my next paper?” one of the strangers said, sticking their glasses-clad face right into Sera’s space bubble.

“No, me! Please!”

“Uh,” Sera said. And this, apparently, was so eloquent that the gaggle of probably-grad-students hushed up. Or maybe they actually shut up because Kaliko had just walked in, hands on hips, and leveled them all with a beautiful, disappointed sigh.

Sera shrank into her blanket.

“Remind me,” Kali said, vestigial face fins flicking in annoyance, “what instructions I explicitly gave upon your entrance to Dr. Crev’s home?”

The grad students shuffled about, and a few heads lowered. Shoulders slumped. “Do not goggle at the lawyer,” they grumbled in partial unison.

“Precisely,” Kali said, turning on her heel to lead them out of the room like a line of ducklings. “And I have first dibs, regardless.”

Well. At least Sera knew where Kali stood on the matter, even if it did not make her feel any less like a test subject. She waited until the last of the grad students filed out, then immediately rolled up the blanket, flopped off the couch, and slunk away in search of Kyle.

Walking through Dr. Crev’s house felt a bit like visiting the temple of a different god. The professor’s furniture was all understated hardwood, and she kept things so tidy that she must have been cleaning with magic–either conjured cleaning spirits or brute force powerwashing. It had all the trappings of unostentatious wealth, and none of the comfort of Sera’s own dormitory in Librata’s temple.

She did find Kyle, eventually, still splayed out over a king-sized bed in a tastefully decorated guest bedroom. His snores shook the walls–or would, if the walls weren’t probably magic. A clock on the bedside table told her it was almost nine. Maybe if she went out and found hot breakfast to bring back, the smell of it would wake him up.

“Oh good. You’re up.”

Sera jumped out of her skin. “Librata above, Avon! Can’t you knock?”

Avon only rolled their eyes. “Benny is still knocked out too, and like us, I don’t think either of them will want to brave the congress of brainiacs for breakfast. Let’s you and I go fetch something.”

Biting her lip, Sera tried to read Avon’s expression. They kept it cool, looking not at her eyes, but definitely somewhere on her head, like they wanted to face her straight-on, but felt just as weird about it as she did. Should she apologize for their screaming match on the way home yesterday?

Before the thought had even fully formed, the spark of power in her chest fluttered in righteous annoyance, and she grimaced. She was probably supposed to apologize for a lot of things, screaming match included. Like being an ass all the other times they'd run into each other the past two years, or leaving Avon without explanation, or never taking any of the early opportunities she'd had to reconnect and say she was sorry.

…Maybe not yet though.

Sera squared her shoulders and edged past Avon through the doorway. “Right. Right on. Let’s go.”

They wound out of the house and down Dr. Crev’s tidy garden walkway before turning left toward the student district. Every block, the sidewalks grew more and more crowded, until Sera and Avon were fighting through the throngs of students on their way to morning classes. Coffee and pastry and noise filled the air.

Avon eventually pulled them into a down-the-sidewalk line that snaked its way into a tiny, decrepit, signless storefront. And then they stood there together. Awkwardly. Sometimes, the line moved, and they shuffled a half step forward. Avon and Sera did not say a word to each other for several long, crowded minutes.

And then:

“This is ridiculous,” Avon said.

“The line? Or”-

“No!” Avon snapped to face Sera, taking her by the shoulders to make her face them. Were they going to have it out on the sidewalk? In front of everyone and all the gods? “Us! We are ridiculous!”

“We just caused a scene yesterday,” Sera said. “Are we really going to”-

Stepping in close, Avon lowered their mouth to Sera’s ear. Conveniently, it meant she didn’t have to make eye contact with them, which did make it a little easier to pretend they hadn’t just been standing awkwardly and not talking to each other. “I’m sorry for yelling at you about your new magic,” Avon said. It wasn’t a whisper; the street was too loud for that. But the proximity and the sudden straight, serious tone made it feel like one. “Kali told me this kind of thing happens sometimes, with religious people.”

“It’s fine,” Sera replied. She should say something else, probably. Sorry for yelling back? Sorry for being dickish all the time? Sorry for running off to the temple two years ago without saying anything?

Avon waited a beat, and Sera could feel by the raise of the tiny hairs on her neck that they were staring at her, waiting for her to look back, or say one of the many things that sat heavy on her tongue. But then the moment passed, and Avon deflated. They dropped their head onto Sera’s shoulder and gazed out at the long line still between them and breakfast. The rush of students kept going.

“You were right, honestly,” Sera said, after a few more glacier-slow steps toward the door. “What you said up in Timberheight. I am kind of a coward.”

With a groan, Avon picked their head up off her shoulder. “No you’re not. I mean, you’re probably right about the monster”-

“I’m not talking about the monster.”

They examined her, even as Sera continued to avoid making eye contact. And then, after a long breath through their teeth, Avon reached a hand up and scruffed it through her hair.

“Hey!”

“The line at La Drippe probably isn’t the best place to have this conversation.”

“You started it,” Sera grumbled, but she nonetheless deflated in relief. She would have more time to figure out what she was supposed to say. “Also, is this place really called La Drippe? That’s such a stupid name.”

Avon grinned. “It is a bit obnoxious, but Kali recommended it.”

That wasn’t good. Kali had the caffeine tolerance of a blue whale and couldn’t taste espresso. She drank coffee so black it could have come from a tar pit. Sera might combust if she drank that shit. “Please tell me they have decent pastries,” she said, before shuffling along once more.