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The bar in the Reverie Hotel was a place where fantasies were bottled, shaken, and served over ice. Crystal glasses chimed like distant bells; wall sconces glowed gold. The air tasted of wealth and luxury.
At the polished counter, hunched on a stool, Stelle peered into a glass of something vividly blue, dotted with tiny edible stars that swirled lazily in the liquid. Her intense focus was on fishing out the stars one by one, placing them in her mouth, crunching down, then repeating the process.
The straw was still dry; she hadn’t taken a sip yet. Her odd little game was apparently too arresting to even consider that part of the experience.
“Well, well. Look what the Sweet Dreams Troupe dragged in.”
Stelle dropped another star on her tongue. She didn’t answer as the atmosphere shifted, an ambiguous sensation of “dream logic” insinuating a spotlight shining down on her head.
Or maybe that was just the vibe she picked up from the man that slid into the stool beside her.
The sugar star on her tongue melted. That one tasted like cinnamon. She poked her fingers back into the drink.
“Not even going to say hello?” Aventurine leaned his elbows on the bar top, mirroring her posture but infusing it with a theatrical flair that was entirely his own. “Well, never mind that. More importantly—isn’t it past your bedtime? I’d hate to be the one to report a minor to the Bloodhound Family. They take the rules very seriously.”
Stelle regarded him, gaze flat. “Rules are meant to be broken,” she said, a monotone counterpoint to his teasing.
“Oh, yes. How could I forget?” Aventurine flicked his fingers, summoning the bartender. “In that case, let me buy you another drink. Something a little more sophisticated, perhaps?”
Stelle’s nose scrunched up. Her pointer finger and thumb were stained faintly blue from repeated dunkings, but she stuck them back in to agitate the round ice cubes, speeding up the swirling stars. “I like my drink.”
“Of course you do.” Aventurine rested his chin on his hand. The scent of ozone and crisp new credits clung to him. “But you have to be open to new experiences. Take a few risks. Isn’t that what adventuring is all about?”
Stelle’s nose remained scrunched. She wasn’t buying it. There was no reason to trust him. They were, after all, opposing players in the game playing out over Penacony’s glittering streets.
But she wasn’t leaving, either.
“Tell you what,” he suggested after a few seconds passed, his smile softening with a secret just for the two of them. “We’ll make a wager. One that doesn’t rely on luck so much as your honesty.”
Dan Heng would never. March 7th probably wouldn’t either.
But Stelle gave him a chance to at least explain. She didn’t have to agree—and Aventurine could be kind of funny sometimes.
Threatening at others, too. She didn’t much like that.
Aventurine received his drink from the bartender. As far as she’d noticed, he hadn’t even given an order. How did the bartender know what to give him?
“Those are starbursts, aren’t they?” Aventurine shook his glass, the ice tumbling together. “If I recall correctly from the pamphlet, they come in over a hundred different flavors. Some of which aren’t too pleasant, regardless of one’s personal tastes.”
Stelle eyed him. She almost felt the urge to sulk. He knew what game she was playing. That made it… less fun, somehow.
But her face remained unexpressive.
“My wager? The next one you eat will taste like honey.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.” Aventurine tipped his glass back, throat flexing as he swallowed. “As I said; your honesty is key here. I certainly can’t know if you choose to lie to me, can I?”
Stelle’s gaze remained on him, unmoved. "And what do you win if you're right?" she asked, her voice as level as the surface of her untouched drink.
“My prize?” Aventurine tapped a finger against his lips—a gesture that drew her eye, despite herself. “Nothing so gauche as credits, my dear Trailblazer. If the star tastes of honey, you simply have to admit that I was right. And perhaps,” he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur that felt louder than the bar's din, “you’ll concede that taking a risk on my recommendation isn't the worst idea you’ve had all day.”
It was an entirely unreasonable, lopsided wager. She had nothing to gain. He had an ego to feed. Logically, she should get up and leave. Find Himeko or Welt, grab a snack, go back to her room, and see if there was anything interesting in the trash can. (There usually was.)
But Aventurine finally wasn’t trying to win her over with threats or money, just curiosity, and she liked that a lot better.
Without another word, her blue-stained fingers dipped back into the glass. She bypassed several closer, more convenient stars, seeking one near the bottom, as if its position somehow made the choice more random, more hers. She fished it out, a tiny, glittering speck that dripped cerulean onto the polished wood of the bar.
She met his odd, colorful gaze and popped the star into her mouth.
The sugar shell cracked, and the flavor flooded her tongue.
It was honey.
…Stelle squinted.
“Oh? Not a pleasant flavor?” Aventurine inquired, picking up a napkin and offering it to her. “Spit it out, then. No reason to torture yourself, surely?”
The IPC was cunning, Stelle reminded herself. And this one was the most cunning of them all.
She swallowed. “It was cinnamon,” she lied.
Aventurine clicked his tongue. “Ah, is that so? Pity for me, then.” His tone was light, casual, even a hint rueful.
Was that it? Was he pretending? Or did he believe her?
She couldn’t tell. She also couldn’t tell how she felt about it, other than just… vaguely guilty. There was a prickle in the back of her throat, like the star had lodged there.
Stelle coughed. “You can buy me a drink,” she decreed, compromising between backtracking to admit the truth, while also deciding that one drink couldn’t be too bad.
Aventurine’s smile returned. He signaled the bartender with an elegant flick of his wrist. “A Sweet Surrender for the lady,” he said, then leaned closer to her. Not enough to be threatening, but just enough to make the moment theirs alone.
“They make it with a touch of honey,” he confided. “I have a feeling you’ll like how it pairs with cinnamon.”