Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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The amenities that come from living in a city are truly wonderful if you have the money to afford them. As a person with no special talents, it's not impossible to live when there are many jobs out there that do not require skill, but it's not an environment that allows you to thrive. In fact, you're yet to find a place that might allow for more growth beyond flipping burgers and delivering fast food. Alas, bills pile up in the city, and tabs in places that allow for rain checks are only effective for until it is time to pay.

Politics are a huge part of urban life, despite your many efforts to ignore them in favor of a simpler one. You lack the knowledge or interest to attend to that part of the city's culture, and so there are politicians and legal professionals that act with the purpose of finding a common law for those who are protected as valued citizens and those who are considered unfavorable. In fact, there is some brave someone out there right now, advocating for the rights of the people like you, and there is someone else acting in the name of diplomacy to secure a deal that ensures that your unspoken hero does not gain a foothold in the unsavory, biased politics of the city. 

The methods of the modern-day might seem rather radical at a first glance, but all eras are the same at the root. 

And yet here you are, checking orders on a listed notepad, loading bagged meals packed in styrofoam containers into a cooler tied down unceremoniously to a street-legal moped. You have learned the basics for traversing the bustling city roads, and you are perfectly capable of performing your job, with some leeway to account for the traffic. A grand day to not be a scholar, a specialist, nor god(s) forbid, a peacekeeper. 

You, specifically, are a grunt, a worker. What a glory it is to be an everyday regular civilian that keeps the streets lit by paying a pretty penny in city taxes, the very streetlights that guide you on your route to your destination. You pick up the food, you drop it off. Life couldn't get any simpler than that. 

Except for when the streets are backed up by a long line of repair crews. Seems they've been mopping up the oil spills of the latest robot attack that destroyed much of the city's infrastructure, whatever bastard was behind that. Means more detours. Perhaps for them, it was a game to see how fast they'd rebuild the roads this time versus the last, who knows. Still, some of your lovely customers are dedicated enough to their tempers that they manage to get angry at you, the delivery person, despite the glaringly obvious fact that their driveway is missing a whole yard of concrete, and their roof is decorated with the glass shards that flaked off of a fallen skyscraper just a block or so down. 

Sure, yeah, it's kind of funny. Easy to rip into the nearest civil servant when what really needs to be offered is consultation for victims in times of crisis. Not that your employer cares about shoving you onto the front lines, so long as the bike doesn't get any scratches, not that it's easy with all the road rash these days. Company property and all. 

You don't mean to seem unsympathetic, you've been there, after all. But gaining wealth and losing it is the game of this playground, and if there's anything you've learned, it's best to let go of attachments to material possessions, or else it will hurt most once they are ripped right out of your hands. Not that it's what a family who has lost their home wants to hear, so you offer with kindness what you have come to deliver, and shut your heart off as you hop back on your moped, unable to do more for the grieving. 

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"Well if it isn't my favorite wage slave! Remind me again what you do for fun? Don't you ever get the day off?" And that would be the guy that likes to bother you on occasion. Dark hair, orders right before closing time, chatty. You hadn't even finished counting up your bags, but he must've been coming in to pick up his food and caught you right before you departed for tonight's rounds. "Don't get me wrong, I like the look, makes the wrinkles look intentional. 'Just wondering is all, since I only ever see you putting in the hours." Not like he'd see you if you weren't. Of course, you couldn't say that, but he still shrugged, happy to skip onto the sidewalk, putting off entering in favor of waiting for a reaction from you. 

Some people are just like that. You think you almost laughed at the wrinkles comment, almost. He, with his monologuing, probably expects you to finally cave and say something snappy these days, but silence speaks volumes, or so they say. You close up the cooler and hop on your seat, knowing he's watching the red lights on your glorified street scooter flicker on, exhaust floating up from the rusty pipe and tinting the air with the faint remnants of stale gasoline. You'd think the guy would take the hint, but he still tries so hard every time.

One of these days you'll bite. 

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Maybe today was just a rough one, you thought, flipping through a free magazine filled with nothing but adverts and useless coupons. A lot has been happening in the city lately, and the stress must have finally been starting to get to you. 

Laying on the floor, you considered propping the balcony window open to let some air in, but that might be enough invitation for something to make its way in. You tried to weigh your options, but ultimately the lack of AC was starting to become a problem, and a little bit of smog wasn't going to hurt. Besides, you were more worried about the bugs than you were someone actually trying to rob you, since anyone could tell from just a glance inside that you were broke as hell. Still, you didn't like the idea of getting bit up in your sleep. 

Though, there was no saying when the freaky shit would start up again. You've been living here for long enough that you've adapted to this day-to-day way of living that everyone else seems to follow, and yet none of it seems right. You're pretty sure life wasn't always plagued by this weird haze of attacks and loss and knowing something is off without being able to see what, but when did it start?

And what did you do to deserve it?

All you could remember ever wanting was a normal, easy life.  

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It's just a blurry photo, you rationalize, tapping the plastic desk a few times. It's nothing to worry about, there's nothing scary about it. 

You sighed, propping your hand on your fist. 

It's just a hoax, just a photoshopped nothing picked up by the press because they were desperate for a story. The photo quality was laughable. Props to whoever snapped it though, they managed to capture something like that despite all odds being stacked against them. 

The kid two computers down from you was playing some generic run-of-the-mill shooter game, and it seems like he's been losing, badly. Man, he sucks. You sit back, listening to him furiously click the mouse and curse under his breath. For all you knew, he could have been some creature in disguise too. Anyone could.

But you haven't done anything wrong, You're just a normal person, working a normal job to stay afloat, and they'd know that if they looked into your history.

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You're not always so cynical! Despite that being the default for most everyone with access to the internet and the news these days, sometimes you actually manage to enjoy yourself! 

For one, it's not so bad zipping through the streets once the sun's gone down and the skyline lights up. Usually, you go from the poorer part of town to the height of the nightlife city districts. The smells of the many street food vendors and loud music blasting from the shops accompany you and a few other vehicles forced to stop at the occasional red light, and the roads down here go on and on for miles. The street fashion varies among pedestrians, but every once in a while you manage to catch a glimpse of someone highly decorated for the world to see. There's also the occasional decked-out motorcycle, and the riders down here usually dress in sleek leather while revving their engines, ready to blast off into the night along the highway. 

Then there's also the few perks of being a delivery driver. You get regulars, nice people who offer a kind smile or a tea on the house. You can never get enough of those. Actually, hey, now that you think about it, a lot of them are probably minimum wage workers and bottom-of-the-barrel civil servants themselves. Little guys don't go ragging on the other little guys, well most of them don't anyway, but when they do it's more understandable and relatable than when some big honcho decides to make punching bags out of the peasantry. 

So it's true, that not everyone is bad. Yes, some of the suburbs aren't all that glorious, nothing like the large chunk of skyscraper blocks that make up the main central downtown area, but you know that good people live in those raggedy neighborhoods and that they're deserving of a warm cooked meal, so you're surprisingly dedicated to your job and that means showing up right on time. 

And yeah, maybe you don't do anything other than work, but you have to do it now so that you could thank yourself later. One day, you're going to get out of the slums, you're going to feel safe walking on the street, and you're going to be doing something more important with your life. You can just feel it. 

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The one night you open the balcony door for some air. The one, fucking, night. There's a person in your house, you're not sure how he's entered, but it's pretty likely that some creep noticed the door left unlocked and let himself in. If that was the case, he took the effort to climb the terrace just to get in. 

You don't like having to resort to violence, but you are not losing your life today. A shadow stands in the dark, shoulders squared, attention settling on you. An arm is pulled from a pocket, lifting, in your direction, and you take your stance. There's a chance he has a gun. 

Beside you is the light switch. You don't hesitate to flick it. 

A red pole drops to the ground, you hadn't even realized he'd had it. You swiftly move to pick it up, and it's incredibly heavy, but you manage to pull it away before he has a chance to use it, and you hold it like a bat, ready to swing. 

"Hey, whoa whoa whoa, wait!" He's eying you and the weapon you still from him like he's the one that's terrified and not the other way around.  "It's me! It's me! From the other day! I'm-" Whatever he wanted to say, the words died in his throat. He's pointing, at your hands, and smiling, probably to mock you! Smiling! And you have no idea who this guy is! What do you say?? You were just a delivery driver!! Doesn't silence speak volumes?!?! 

If he wanted to leave a review, he could have done so on the app!! 

"Hold on!! I'm not here to hurt you!! Would you just hear me--" He dogged your terrified swing by a slim centimeter, screaming "OoooOOOOUuT!" His voice cracked as he lept several feet into the air, bumping into the door's metal latch and losing his footing. Not here to hurt you your ass!! Something hit the concrete, and it sounded like it cracked open. Wait a minute...

Was that his skull?! Was he going to bleed all over your floor?! Were you going to have to hide a body?!?! Can intruders sue for damages done whilst trespassing on your rented property??!?! Could you be evicted for this?!?!!?!?!? Was this... really happening. Really???

Noooo!!! Your money!!!!! There's a dead guy on the floor, and it's going to cost you all your hard-earned money!!!! All you wanted was a normal liiiiiife!!

You fell to your knees, arms outstretched toward the invisible heavens. Why hath you been forsaken on this day...?

"I'm okay!! I'm okay!!" He waved his arms up. "Please let me explain! Just calm down!!"  

Bold of him to think you were worried about him!!

"OoOoof-!" There go his ribs. In your defense, this was an intruder, and your livelihood was at stake! "That-" He wheezed, "ᵃᵇᶜᵈᵉᶠᵍʰᶦʲᵏˡᵐⁿᵒᵖᑫʳˢᵗᵘᵛʷˣʸᶻ" Oh good, he was dying for real this time! Now he couldn't sue you!! 

"Just let me explain, p l e a s e--" He raised his hands in desperate surrender. "I-" kick "owch- know!!-" kick "-t h e  p i c t u r e." 

The what. 

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With a glass of tap water pressed against his cheek to calm down the swelling, you've been sitting across from each other in the empty living room for a while now, staring each other down. There's still a crack in your floor, a crack he was very much inexplicably responsible for. His head must've been really hard if it damaged the concrete on his way down. 

"So you-" "No." "But why-" 

He shifted a little, wincing, lowering the lukewarm cup of water from his face, but still smiling. "But, what about the picture?" That fucking picture. Why couldn't he just believe it wasn't you! That it was a lie, just an article making stuff up for the sake of views! 

"Defamation! Photoshop! I don't know!" Why come all the way to a stranger's home to hound them about a photo, on a work night of all things?!!

"It's pretty clearly you." He crossed his arms over his knees. "Besides, I'm definitely sure of it now." What did he mean by that? You didn't do anything, you just beat the piss out of an intruder like any other normal person would do! 

He pointed over to the pole- staff- bar- thingie? And propped his unswollen cheek on his knee. Whatever he thought you'd glean from that, you obviously didn't, in fact, you had no idea what he meant by it at all. 

"I don't know what you hoped to gain from coming here-" Diplomacy! A regular old delivery driver could manage that, right? "But I'm not interested! If you could please, I don't know, leave me alone?" Not break into peoples' houses? While on the subject, perhaps consider never coming back?

"Yeeeaaah. So about that." He hit himself in the forehead, ignoring the bruising. "Ssssooorrry for coming here unannounced. At night. While you were sleeping! Haha- haha, ha! I didn't really think things through, but on second thought, I can see how that might not have been the best possible way of going about things." Yeah- well- what-

"Buuuut--! I really want to make it up to you! I'll even pay for the damages to your floor! So will you please please pleeaaase hear me out?" Oh great, now he's making a face, a sad, pathetic, wincing, pleading face. Was that supposed to be persuasive or something?

"Beeesiiides I know your secret, sooooo..." Blackmail, really? What kind of negotiation is this? Break into someone's home, threaten them, pretend that you're buddies even though he's literally a complete stranger?

Ugh. Fine. Not like you know how else to get out of this. 

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The light of morning was peaking in through the door, now securely locked and likely not to be left open for quite some time. You've been staring at the crack in the floor for a while now, sleepless, anticipating a difficult day shift. You couldn't have known that this would happen, but you're starting to regret picking up extra hours now that you've been left to the horror of your own devices. 

He left, said he'd let you think about it and apologized again. The thing was, you weren't sure how much free will he'd be giving you in this decision, but he left with a looming promise. 

I'll be back. 

He didn't say when, or how, just that he'd be showing up. He left without even telling you his name. He acted like everyone was supposed to know who he was, and that kind of lunacy you wanted nothing to do with. The worst part is that you're starting to have somewhat of an idea of who he might be, and none of the currently available options made you feel any more confident in this encounter. 

It's going to be dangerous driving when you're so severely sleep-deprived, and morning shifts only mean rush hours and bumpers stacked on top of each other in wall-to-wall traffic. You can't call in, not without a phone, and not without taking a serious hit to your finances. You can't afford to be sick. You can't afford to miss days. You're going to have to drug yourself to high heaven with copious amounts of caffeine and suck it up. 

You've been so purposely out of the loop. Said that, if it happens to you again, it happens to you again. Left it to fate, and now fate delivered something much, much worse. 

But you're not what he thinks you are, what he thinks you are. You're normal, you're human, you're an everyday citizen of the city and you don't have any freaky powers, just bills, and responsibility. If you had freaky powers, you wouldn't have ever been struggling in the first place. You wouldn't be here. That photo was a coincidence, a doppelganger, a sick, cruel joke. 

Gods, this is all you're going to be able to think about for who knows how long. If the stress wasn't getting to you before, it certainly was now. 

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Of all people to hand you a cup of coffee, it was that guy, the one with the dark hair that likes to tease. He even had it ready, almost as if he were waiting for you. 

"Rough night?" He waved it in front of you, waiting for you to take it. "Sorry, 'just uh, you're not looking too hot there." 

Not looking too hot. You wondered just what it was about your disaster shitshow that ticked him off to that. Nonetheless, you accepted his offer and lifted up the pull tab on the lid to drink whatever horrible coffee he usually ordered for himself. Dark hair... At this point, you're considering being wary of dark-haired men after the guy from last night crashed your party. This one liked to probe, the other, well, you didn't know what his deal was, but they both shared some sort of vibe if you were being completely honest. You didn't know if that should worry you or not. 

To your surprise, it was something sweet and creamy, nothing like you would have pegged him for. 

"Now that's a new one." The corner of his mouth upturned, a smug grin forming on his usually smiling face. Instead of elaborating like he usually would, he took a step back, nodding as he glanced back, once, before walking away.

That was weird. 

Still, you had work to do. Placing his oh so generous gift in the cupholder attached to the handlebars, you hopped on the back of your moped. Better to arrive earlier than later with these sorts of things, but noting the traffic, you'd probably make it to all your stops just on time. 

Wonder what his deal was. Maybe he just had somewhere to be, after all, you don't usually see him this early. 

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Chapter Text

Fist on the throttle, the moped is roaring in all its well-aged fury. Exhaust whips back in a ribbon trail as you zip past reflective road markers with impressive speed, a line of pulsing red glowing in the dust as the wind screams in your ears for you to slow down. The stars are your companions that stand by and watch, peaking out behind the wafting, hazy clouds of smog, a tell-tale sign of civilization not far from here. Despite the hazard, the air out here is minty and fresh, it lightens the gravity holding you down and douses your skin in icy, burning alertness.

Today might be the day, but none of that matters when you're free from all burdens for an ephemeral moment.

Trees flank you on either side, new growth bouncing back from last the land was perturbed, but the light of the flashing street lamps possess the stalks and branches, casting shadows that seem to spring to life and outstretch toward your trailing wheels. They merge with the unleveled tar that was meant to fill the craters in the asphalt and wait to ambush your bike which if caught, would sputter out beneath you in slippery, fatal outcry. Unfortunately for them, you're accustomed to worse conditions, and your vehicle remains steady and confident, treading over potholes with relative ease. 

This borrowed automobile was your Bai Long Ma, your trusty steed on this never-ending journey to nowhere. 

But for now, you come to a slow stop and spin yourself around. No matter how far you go, the city always, always pulls you back in. 

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He's not waiting for you today.

The streets are packed in disarray with redirected drivers following the latest crater dug smack dab in the middle of the city, but as they always are, construction workers are already stationed at their posts. Repairs aren't expected to take longer than a week with the current technology, all thanks to the recent high demand for it. However, some part of you wondered, if the civil committees invested their trillions of dollars into combatting the attacks and not sweeping up the carnage, the need would have ever been raised in the first place. Still, it was impressive that they managed to put up the skeletons of toppled over and demolished skyscrapers in just a few days. 

Without an appearance from your friendly critic, however, you couldn't help but feel like your routine had been set off.

You hated to say it, but you were becoming too dependent on his snide remarks for comfort. This was the game of here, resisting change meant nothing but bad fortune, the same went for the course of your day. If you let it get to you, something worse would come for you. Sowing the seeds, or whatever. You still hadn't yet had an opportunity to thank him for the coffee, his timing was incredible, almost as if he had a sixth sense about him or something. 

On second thought, you really hope not. It's just the paranoia catching up to you, it has to be. 

The leather on your seat is warm from the sun, and the cooler bounces behind you, the contents each wrapped up in their individual bags that crinkle every time you hit a bump. If you had the money, you'd probably be ordering today as well. It seems to be a good day for it. 

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Great day for it. There's a group of kids just out of school drawing with chalk along and picking blades of grass to whistle with. You listen to their half-successful attempts and lean your head against the bench, amused and content. The ice in your drink has been melting, and the sweat dripping down the sides falls onto your lap, leaving a rim mark on your work pants. On that thought, it's supposed to rain in a few days, and you're looking forward to the storms, the plants really need it, the city really needs it. The rain sweeps away the debris that would usually tear up the tires on your bike, and clears away some of the smog that accumulates in the more densely populated parts of downtown. 

School. Sometimes during the week, you forget that children have school, and it always makes you laugh when you remember. 

The kids glance your way but don't seem to mind coexisting in the same space as you. They tell each other stories and play their games, content to enjoy their simple life with their friends. The leaves of the trees rattle in the slight breeze before it sweeps through the path, picking up a little girl's hair. She drops her chalk to push it out of her face and, without realizing it, smeared powder all over her nose. It's cute, and once the boys see it, they suddenly get the idea to take their chalk-covered fingers and paint on each other's faces. They start shrieking and running around, living in their own little world. It looks fun. 

A man with glasses sits next to you, dropping a book in his lap. You're caught off guard and scoot closer to the armrest, and he realizes he must have startled you because he's suddenly looking at you with an apologetic smile. 

"Hey there." He lifts his hand to wave. "Nice weather today." 

You weren't hoping to have to keep up with any small talk, but he doesn't press you for a response. Instead, he turns to look in the direction the kids ran off to. More curious about the book in his lap, you catch a few Hanzi but struggle to decipher them before diverting your attention away so as not to stare. 

The air out here isn't perfect, but it's notably cleaner than along the streets, getting caught in the exhaust wafting off the cars stuck at another light. The streets aren't very far, so you can still hear loud music blasting from the occasional passing car, and the motorcyclists out revving their engines for the fun of it. It's a peaceful scene, a rare moment of normalcy. 

Until you hear the footsteps coming from behind. "Tang, we gotta--"

The guy next to you, Tang presumably, stands up and blocks the new guy from view. "Well well well, MK!" Something about the way he swerved to put himself against the back of the bench seemed forced as if he'd been puffing out his shoulders in order to appear more confident, or larger.

"Tang...?" Perhaps more of an obstacle. 

He's tapping his nail on the wood, his finger-wagging in a way that's hidden behind his back. Before you can fully figure out what he means, there's the butt end of a very familiar-looking pole close to smacking your cheek. It... went right through him. 

Once the puff of smoke clears, the two of you lock eyes, and you can only realize just a bit too late that it was a warning. 

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Bound. The skin on your arms is raw from brush burns and bruises, but even worse is not being able to reposition your body and having to deal with the singe of scratching rope against the sensitive spots. He claims your captivity is for safety reasons, but you wonder who's safety he is more concerned with. 

Come time for sundown, there's a very good chance you'll be reported as missing. At the very least, you'll be missing your shift, and the complaints filed for undelivered food are sure to tip off someone in management. You have never missed a day, as you are well aware you cannot afford it, and when they find the moped abandoned in the parking lot, they will know all that they need to. 

Of course there were onlookers, but nobody, not a single person stuck a toe out of line to help you, and they'd probably deny seeing anything if questioned, not that there'd really be any real search. 'Better it's someone else' those who sat by and watched probably thought. 'Don't get involved.' as they hurried away or stuck their heads down, and the sad part was that you didn't blame them, not any of them. Missing people end up dead. 

The parks were supposed to be one of the safest places to be, and yet this volatile city couldn't even let them have that.

Looking back at how you'd gotten here, your mind could only remember vague sensations and sounds as you were slung over shoulder and carried off, bike right in front of you. You couldn't see the vehicle as he stepped into it, but the fact that it was parked next to yours only made half-consciously watching it fade out of view all the more painful. 

Once the complacent, stress-induced state you were in wore off, you found that you'd been imprisoned in some sort of... cockpit. It looked atrociously high tech, alien, magical, mechanical even, with the veins of an unknown power source exposed along the walls and floor similar to the roads constructed for hovering vehicles along the streets of this city's 'Millionaire Row'. This kind of technology isn't your normal, but it is commonplace, which either meant he somehow stole an entire technological, contraption? Or your captor had the means to afford it. Neither of which makes the outcome much better. 

Speaking of, he seemed to be standing in front of what seemed to be the control panel. He hung his head for a brief moment, acknowledging that he knew you were looking but not offering any words. Looking at him from the back, he seems so normal, so casual, like someone you'd pass by on the street, but there's something in his posture that ticks you off to there being something wrong, and that's the dip in his shoulders, there's something unusual about the way he carries himself.  Otherwise, against the wall of machinery, he sticks out like a sore thumb, like he's just a normal guy that wasn't meant to be driving one of these things. 

But anyone can be one of them. You should have never, ever for a second forgotten that. 

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"Wah, MK! What the heck?!" There's a green blade pressed to your chest, and you're trying to stay calm, but just a single touch is enough to flay some of the outer strands of the thick rope currently binding you. The ship hasn't even been docked for long, but the moment you felt the landing, the hatch opened up, and in came glowing dagger girl.

She really wasted no time in unsheathing her weapon and pressing it directly to your chest, and she might waste even less after deciding what to do with that weapon if you did anything out of line. 

"Wait, Mei! I can explain! Please dont-"

You feel the pressure increasing. "Don't what? You can't just go tying people up MK!" 

So, hold on, that actually sounds like... rational thinking. Are you hearing this right?

"You alright? Did he hurt you?" Her finger tugs away at the incision made from just grazing it against the threads. It's another one of those, tech-y things, by the looks of it.

Giving you a good look over, she stands and... squares up, putting some distance between him and yourself. "You better explain yourself MK, all of it this time." 

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 It all happened in just a second, but you just flung yourself out of an aircraft without realizing that it sat docked at least a couple feet in the air. It sounded worse than it felt, with everything so numb at this point. You just had the wind knocked out of you, and you're maybe dying, but chances are you're just suffering from a nasty aftershock. 

"You alright there, little buddy? That was quite the tumble!" A huge, huge hand grasps your shoulder to as if that'd somehow help the situation, but you don't dare look up to see who's captured you now. Suddenly, cats. 


...Cats?


"Seems my friends here can sense that you're mega stressed! That's not good!" No kidding. Doesn't nearly dying a bunch of times in one day sort of do that to you? He crouches down and goes to flip you, and you're met with the hugest, bluest, ginger-est man you've ever seen in your life. His hair is swaying 'majestically' in the slightly salty breeze as he flashes what looks like a stereotypically perfect smile at you. "Don't worry though! Everything's gonna be alright-" "SANDY!! Sandy, Sandy!" Again, you'd run but you're literally being overrun with cats, fat, heavy, furry cats. Where did all these cats come from?!!

"Huh? Oh! Looks like my bud needs me- I'll be right back- with some chillaxing tea! You're gonna love it." He pats your head so gently that you barely feel it, because he seems to be trying to come across as gentle. "What's up MK?" His burly voice shouts over the seagulls and the salty breeze as he stands and leaves you with his unexplained horde of literal cats. That's the kind of volume you'd expect from such a tough-looking guy, but his persona?

You've never actually hallucinated a windows startup error sound before now.

*Gasp!!* Fine reaction, Mei. "Oh no!! Look what you've done, MK!!!" "ME?? HOW IS THIS MY FAULT??!" You're making no efforts to move this time. 

Out of the many difficult foes you've faced today, you were defeated easily by a blue man and his massive, fluffy army of therapy cats. Or, well, technically fall damage. What an absurd way to die. 

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"Mei." You were left with her in the 'relaxation lounge' as Sandy had dubbed it. You wanted to talk, but you were also curious about... whatever it was she was doing to that poor house plant. "Hmm? Yeah? What's up?" She perked right up, flipping the pages of her book of dragon stickers, looking for one to place on top of the first layer that already lay on the terracotta pot. 

You weren't really sure how to start a conversation with her, so you sort of sat awkwardly as she waited for you to say something. There were probably a lot of questions you could have asked, but nothing came to the forefront once you had her attention, so you slunk back into a literal pile of cats and pillows, resting against the smell of sandalwood and tea. You haven't known him even an entire hour yet, but you're pretty sure everything Sandy owns is probably covered in cat hair and actual cats. How a man can manage to have so many cats and not smell like... cat, is beyond you. 

Mei shrugged, going back to her 'arts and crafts project'. 

Well, it wasn't exactly that you couldn't come up with anything to say, it was more so you didn't want to be disappointed by the answers, or lack thereof. You're not exactly used to navigating these sorts of problems, and at some point, you've come to expect not being able to trust anyone else. Look where trust got you. You let your guard down and thought nothing of a friendly stranger sitting next to you on a park bench. Really, how unreasonable was that? What's the lesson you're supposed to be learning from all of this, anyway? What, that no one is safe? Did you really need such a harsh and heavy reminder?

One of the cats batted your hand, begging for attention. It's just the stress, it's your body reacting to chemicals and that's it. But apparently, these are 'therapy cats', and how ironic that they flocked to you the moment they met you. Not the best sign, but life in the city is tough, and being kidnapped is a huge stress producer for any regular, normal, sane person. Speaking of normal, you never thought you'd be comforted by a huge blue guy, that definitely wasn't in your book of normal. 

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