The music inside was louder now—aggressive synths pulsing like a second heartbeat through the walls. The heat of dozens of bodies, the glow of string lights, and the scent of stale champagne and burned appetizers pressed in from all sides. Keliner moved through it with her wings hunched tight, crest low, shoulders drawn up like shields. Her talons clicked against the tile floor, a subtle rhythm beneath the thrum of bass.
Harksen walked beside her, just slightly ahead, weaving through the crowd with a practiced grace. She didn't say anything right away, but her glances were sly, like she was waiting for just the right moment to pounce.
And there it was.
"So, uh..." she started, drawing out the pause like a ribbon, "what did you tell Anon back there?" She nudged Keliner gently with her elbow, her bracelets jingling. "And what's your deal with him, huh?"
Keliner let out a groan, dragging a hand over her face. "Ugh. Don't say it like that, like he's some kind of... shameful baggage." She didn't look at Harksen. "I told Anon a lot. Probably too much. I don't know." She kicked at a fallen streamer on the floor. "He's... he's a pretty okay monkey."
"A pretty okay monkey," Harksen repeated, trying not to laugh. "Damn, high praise."
Keliner sighed, folding her arms tightly. Her feathers bristled. "I know humans are dangerous. But Anon doesn't feel like the others. He's..." She paused, picking at a loose thread in her sleeve. "He's nicer than some dinosaurs I've met. Definitely smarter. Doesn't try to explain war to me like I'm a hatchling."
They arrived at the hors d'oeuvres table, where Harksen immediately began piling a plate—mini fish skewers, dried melon chips, thin strips of roasted fungus. She made another plate and passed it to Keliner without asking.
"Wow," Geo said, passing her the plate with a grin. "You really are a hopeless romantic, aren't you?"
Keliner snorted, looking away as she stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets. "Pfft. Shut up. I don't know. It's stupid." She chewed on her words a moment, reluctant. "Here's the dumb shit I said, alright?"
She stared at the table as if the napkins might swallow her.
"I reached out and squeezed his hand. Told him I was glad he was here. Even if he's human." She groaned. "Like some melodramatic airhead."
Harksen bit her lip to keep from laughing, her eyes glinting with delight. "That's adorable. You've got it bad, huh?"
"I didn't mean to be—ugh." Keliner shook her head. "I also said... gods, this is embarrassing..." Her voice dropped lower. "I told him I didn't want to talk about it anymore. And I kind of... leaned into him. Said I just wanted to pretend we were a regular couple."
"A regular couple?" Harksen gasped, nearly dropping her drink. "HAH! I knew it. He is your boyfriend! I knew it!"
Keliner's ears burned. Her crest twitched. "No, he's not! He didn't even respond when I said that. Didn't nod. Didn't look at me. I looked so stupid."
Harksen blinked, suddenly quiet. "Wait—he just ignored it?"
"Yeah." Keliner's voice was flat now. "Like it didn't even register that I meant it. Like I was just background noise."
Harksen placed a claw gently on Keliner's shoulder, less teasing now. "I'm sorry. That sucks."
Keliner shrugged, eyes scanning the crowd absently. "Whatever. It's fine. It was stupid anyway. Just heat-of-the-moment crap."
There was a pause.
Then Harksen smirked again. "Still. I think he likes you. Or at least respects you. You should've seen his face when Miller started talking—like someone slipped poison in his drink."
Keliner managed a thin smile. "Yeah. I saw. I think he gets it. At least, more than most do."
They stood in silence for a moment, the party rumbling on around them, fake laughter and clinking glasses filling the air like static.
Then Harksen nudged her again. "So... you gonna tell him how you feel? Or just brood dramatically on balconies for the rest of your school life?"
Keliner gave her a dry look. "I am a pterodactyl. Brooding dramatically is half our culture."
They both laughed, a little too loudly, and for a moment, the night felt less heavy.