Chapter Text
In the fading golden light, the first few stars were peaking out. This high in the mountains, far from any cities, they seemed so much brighter than usual. Beacons, really, Jigen thought, as he gazed up at them, cradled within the bowl of distant, shadowy peaks all around them. Something about it just soothed his soul, and soon there would be so many that you could almost scoop a spoon through them.
“Man, every time I come here, I end up thinking that I could stay forever and never get tired of it....”
“Micronations are where it’s at, man,” Lupin agreed from his seat nearby. “But you’re just a sucker for stars and alpine meadows, admit it.”
“They’re so bright and healthy here,” Jigen acknowledged, gaze falling from the darkening sky to the landscape across the water and its many trees. “That’s rare, these days.”
“The stars are healthy?”
“The fields, dumbass,” Jigen spat, but when he looked back it was to find Lupin smirking at him softly. Jigen cracked a grin back in spite of himself. “But yes, also the stars. They look like they did thousands of years ago. No smog, just light. Light you can navigate across the globe by, no matter how lost you feel.” He invited the clean, crisp air into his lungs and then sighed it out, his shoulders loosening. “Places like this…they can show you the way through any problem if you just give it time, you know?”
“Tell me you’re not going to start talking about ley lines and crap,” Lupin said, following his gaze upward. “I didn’t pack my magic crystals.”
“Oh shut up,” Jigen snorted. “That’s more your line, making me chase after some damn religious relic, only to find it pilots a spaceship or something.”
They both took a moment to chuckle at this, but Lupin’s smile was a little quieter as he kept his head tilted back.
It presented Jigen with a good view of his throat—long, jagged scar and all. It was mostly vertical, and went a little past his adam’s apple all the way down onto his chest. He hadn’t bothered masking it with makeup because, pretty soon, there’d be a tight collar over it in the cool night air to come.
But above all that, Lupin’s attentive eyes reflected the golden sky and the glimmer of a twilight Venus.
A few moments later, Lupin smirked at himself humbly and went back to work. Jigen nodded and let it be.
Across the lake’s placid surface, Jigen dipped twin oars into the water to his own slow rhythm. Shallow waves rippled outward into the setting sun, gold to blue to purple as they dispersed.
It’d been a while since he’d been on a lake, and certainly a while with a cogent Lupin in tow. And even longer since he’d been in a damn rowboat. But he didn’t mind. Exercise was good for him, especially in his old age. He was, what, almost fifty now? He’d honestly stopped counting a while ago. He’d never expected to live this long, so he never knew whether counting his age was a blessing or a jinx.
His boss, much younger than him but still nearing middle-aged and growing a healthy crop of comely crow’s feet for it, was currently sitting at the other end of the wooden canoe, feverishly bent over heavy fabric that draped all around the bottom of the boat. He was sewing by hand at a frantic pace and squinting while he did it; each time he pulled the thread up, the needle glinted in the light like a shooting star’s flash.
“You didn’t bring your glasses,” Jigen noted.
“Left ‘um in the car. A job's no place for fragile things.”
“Pretty soon you’re gonna lose the light,” Jigen continued, looking up with a quirked eyebrow. Most of the sky was already a deep navy blue, and the sun had long set. “Five minutes, maybe, before it’s too dark to work anymore.”
“I know, I know,” Lupin muttered, jabbing the needle down. There were pins in his mouth, slowly being collected as he finished attacking the decorative golden trim. “That’s what the lamp is for, though.” He pointed at the camping lantern, sitting dark between them.
“The lamp is for not getting shot when we arrive,” Jigen clarified. “Though it feels odd, to be arriving somewhere at night with an actual light.”
Lupin pulled the pins out of his mouth and succinctly dropped them into the tiny pin box hidden somewhere next to him. “What, as opposed to skulking around in the dark like the last time we were here?” he quipped.
“Yup.”
There had been scuba suits that time. And an anti-tank rifle. And Goemon. Compared to that, this was quite literally a stroll through the park--or rather, a row.
“Heh…those were good times, weren’t they?” Lupin’s voice asked, mirroring Jigen’s thoughts.
He came out of his reverie only to see Lupin fall into his own. His boss paused his desperate attempt at tailoring and rested his chin in his palm, gazing distantly at the far shore.
There were green forests on those hills, quickly turning black in the twilight. But behind himself, Jigen knew, there was also a castle, and a sprawling Roman ruin of a town, glittering in white marble like it was brand new.
“Oh wow,” Lupin said suddenly, turning an alert gaze past Jigen’s shoulder. “The lights just came on.”
“Is it pretty?”
“Very.” Lupin said dreamily. “Like fairy lights.”
Jigen paused his (admittedly leisurely) rowing and looked over his shoulder, and a whistle of admiration drifted out of him.
The pearlescent ruins—which were really more like a working city than a ruin, they were so whole—towered out of the lake with angel-white arches, buttresses, and statues for many blocks, and every bit of it was strung with lights. There were typical path lamps on the edges of buildings and down the walkways, but for the party tonight, it looked like they’d brought in hundreds of hanging-lantern string lights to illuminate the plazas and walkways.
“Like the stars reflected on her crown that night,” Lupin whispered.
Jigen raised an eyebrow, surprised that he had even had time to notice that—and wondering when, exactly, it had been. Still, seemed Lupin didn’t quite remember the fact that they’d stolen it—or maybe he just didn’t think it mattered. Jigen’s face asked the former question, but Lupin quickly hid back in his work.
“C’mon, don’t work much longer, you’ll hurt your eyes.”
Lupin shrugged and turned on the lantern. Stationed between the two of them, it illuminated his legs, which were draped in fabric like a blanket (on top of the actual camping blanket). Which was probably good, really; it was getting a little chilly. Still, the light caught the ocean of sequins, rhinestones, and gold thread and sent them shimmering.
Jigen just shook his head and took up the oars again, adjusting his pace to how much work Lupin appeared to have left. “I can’t believe we’re still putting our costumes together as we’re arriving,” he lamented. “How far we’ve fallen.”
“I know,” Lupin replied, biting the thread off and then holding up the jacket he’d been working on. He shook it off, and the light sparked off it like a wave in the sunset. “But this was so last-minute. Normally with a heist, I set the timeline.”
“Well...”
“And our time-sensitive stuff, we don’t usually need outfits this special.”
“That’s true,” Jigen hedged, looking down at himself. He was covered in cowboy gear—or at least, what people associated with cowboy gear. It’d never really be this clean, or pristine, or full of fringe, but still—it’d been a while since he’d been in this much leather and an external vest that had nothing to do with deflecting bullets.
And one could not forget the chaps. They did not help very much with the hard-ass bench of an old boat, but they did stop the breeze from getting through.
Still, if he pretended hard enough, the worn-smooth oars under his hands almost felt like horse reins. He closed his eyes and for a moment just let himself feel the breeze, thinking of a long-ago place.
Ahh, good times, the ol’ ranching days.
He opened his eyes just as Lupin shook the costume one last time. A bead promptly popped off, right into the water. “Ah, shit.” Lupin leaned over to follow it.
“Leave it.”
Lupin's fingers stopped just as they reached the water's surface and a short splash came up to meet them. He grimaced.
“Noo, fishie, that’s not biodegradable....”
“Tragic,” Jigen remarked dryly.
Lupin sighed, but admitting defeat, shook his head and put the heavy jacket over his shoulders. Nothing else came off as far as Jigen could tell, but it wasn’t like they had the time to mess with it anyway. They were only a few minutes from the dock; if the staff saw them doing last-minute repairs, it wouldn’t get them thrown out, but it might make their job harder. After all, it wouldn’t exactly be becoming of the heir of the Duke of Pepperwall to be sewing his own garments for a society party.
Unless he was a particularly eccentric hobbyist. Which, to be honest, Lupin was pretty damn good at playing.
Well, the old Lupin was, anyway....
“The rest should be fine,” Lupin said abruptly, probably thinking along the same lines. “But this....”
He picked up the massive hat resting in the bottom of the boat near his feet. Then he rummaged around in the wicker crafting basket behind him and produced a small, blue-plastic object with a metal tip.
“Really?” Jigen hissed. “You brought a glue gun?! On a wooden boat?”
“Battery powered,” Lupin advised with an infomercial grin.
“Wait, what...”
Lupin turned the knob and went to work.
“Anyway, I guess we’ve both gained a little weight,” Lupin added, getting the hat in his lap. “I had to change a lot of seams. Thus doing the trim only now....”
Jigen frowned, looking his partner up and down. “…Physical therapy not withstanding.”
Honestly, Lupin almost swam in the coat sitting over his shoulders. It wasn’t buttoned up of course, and he assumed it would fit when put on properly, but he looked barely there underneath it.
Now, Lupin had never been anything close to massive to begin with, but he had certainly been toned for his size, especially his abs and legs. Jigen couldn’t really say that was true at the moment; his wrists were visibly thinner than they should be, as was just about everything else about him other than his face. That, for some reason, retained its look more or less.
Of course, he’d also seen him weigh an almost deathly small amount, but…he didn’t really want to think about that.
Lupin, for his part, was silent at this statement, quickly and expertly gluing a band of ornate ribbon to his hat. Apparently he hadn’t lost that skill, after everything.
Still, as Jigen looked him over, nearly lost under all the costumery and blankets, Jigen thought he saw him shivering. “Lupin, you’ve lost weight, you know?”
Lupin looked up, his eyes catching the light. “Ah? Have I?”
He looked so innocent like that, but Jigen didn’t buy it for a second. He frowned. “You’re still not up to the weight you should be, so do me a favor and eat something tonight. Eat until you collapse.”
“Of course I will, what do you take me for, not a freeloader?” Lupin said, hand waving hard in dismissal and forcing a big smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. When Jigen raised a dubious eyebrow, Lupin quickly ducked back down. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get my appetite back once I run around like I used to.”
Jigen narrowed his eyes, but when Lupin just kept staring at his lap, he looked off, tisking.
When he chanced a glance back, his friend had ducked down a bit farther than necessary to continue his work, shoulders hunched. Maybe it was just the light, but Jigen thought his cheeks looked red.
A hundred things tumbled through Jigen’s mind at all this, but he’d learned over the last two years what he could get away with bringing up and what he couldn’t, without a shouting match occurring.
So instead, he brought in the oars and gazed at the castle towering behind him. The tall white spires with blue tops stood gracefully in the middle of the lake, something like a flock of swans with little French nun-hats.
“We sure did good work here,” he found himself saying. “It’s nice not to have to see another burned-down palace.”
“…Yeah,” Lupin agreed quietly.
“D’you suppose…we did enough, though?”
“Honestly?” Lupin asked, looking up at him. When Jigen caught his eyes, again big and innocent, Lupin looked away. His profile was pensive, and he bit his lip. “Probably not.” Lupin shook his head and went back to his hat, worrying his materials as he figured out how to arrange the feathers into it. “But I hope so.”
Jigen looked his partner up and down. Lupin was starting to do that nervous tick where he endlessly bounced his leg. “The princess is still in charge, right?” he asked, attempting to draw the thoughts out of him.
“Yeah,” Lupin said, turning the feathers this way and that without much success. “She’s held onto power. She’s got the people behind her, so that helped.”
Jigen eyed him, but Lupin was too busy being busy to let him see his true feelings about that.
“Here, let me see it,” Jigen said, gently pulling the hat out of Lupin’s hands. The man looked up, rather surprised, but when Jigen put the hat on Lupin’s head and then superimposed possible feather locations, Lupin smiled like a little kid getting a reward from his dad.
It was so rare to see Lupin smile these days, and so lightheartedly. Not since…
“Here,” Jigen decided. He pulled the massive hat off Lupin’s head and held the feathers in place for him. “Put them here.”
“Roger.” With his old craftman’s smile back, Lupin expertly got the last of the glue in place.
So many smiles… I really hope this was good idea. So far, so good, I guess....
“There!” Lupin said, successfully gluing the feathers down without burning either of their fingers. As Jigen sat back in his spot, Lupin situated the massive 1600s hat on his head in its full glory. “How do I look?”
“Ridiculous, dandy, and expensive.”
“Perfect! Gosh, I didn’t know you knew so many adjectives, Jigen.”
“Oh shut it.”
They laughed—laughed richly and warmly. Jigen couldn’t remember the last time their voices had harmonized in the night to such a cadence, let alone not had someone start brooding afterwards.
Still, when he looked, Lupin’s smile, bright and unbroken in the lamplight, completely outshined any of his scars.
“What a beautiful sight,” Jigen said after a while, gazing out at the Roman town, now that they were nearly upon it.
“Yeah....” Lupin agreed, following his line of sight and sighing. “This has been a monumental tourist attraction for them. Really helped get the country back on its feet after losing the illegal income.”
Jigen made a solemn noise.
“The princess was smart, too,” Lupin said, going back to examining the colorful feathers and baubles on his hat in the lamplight. “Had scientists examine it six ways from Sunday first, so that it could be registered in as many international care funds as possible. She also asked for small donations to local charities as the price for the privilege, which helped keep the country’s social services flowing even though the coffers were being…ah, adjusted.”
“...Shrewd.”
“Yeah. She’s more of a ‘let the good come free and it’ll shake out,’ type of person, so I suspect the advisors had a hand in the cost-sharing scheme. Which there’s some sense to, really. It doesn’t matter how good of a leader you are, if your people are unpaid and can’t eat, you’re getting ousted.”
Jigen made another solemn grunt out of the back of his throat. “Unless you can blame the previous guy.”
“Yeah, but even that will only work so long. But! The scientific teams can absorb moderate fees, if they’re not too bad. Sure beats countries where they actively extort you to stay alive in archeological sites.”
A chuckle bubbled up out of both of them at that, no doubt remembering any number of previous heists somewhere in the desert.
“But it’s barely anything for the public to visit,” Lupin continued thoughtfully. “Not bad for balancing the budget and keeping the place in good repair. Now that it’s uncovered, it’s going to take some substantial upkeep. Something like Venice, probably, which is hella expensive now that the sea’s rising.”
“They can control the water level here, though, right?” Jigen asked, looking around at it. He hadn’t thought of it before, but that had to be one hell of an issue, now that the lake basically had a new river attached to it.
“Mostly,” Lupin said, his voice suddenly turning grave. “This was their reservoir for drinking water previously, so that caused some problems; and the flood downriver wrecked the fields, too….” Lupin shivered, shaking his head and bringing his hand to his face. “God, that was a lot of water.”
Jigen frowned. They hadn’t left downriver; they’d gone north, over and out of the country.
“Luckily, it was still early Spring,” Lupin continued his story with a sigh, “so most of the fields hadn’t been planted yet. And it left some good alluvial deposits, so that was a positive. But….”
He shrugged, but rubbed his neck. His leg had stopped bouncing, and his tone had dropped to a whisper. That combination meant only one thing.
“…Did anyone die?”
“Some did,” Lupin admitted, pursing his lips. “Especially in the next country downstream. It happened right at sunset, remember? But luckily, again, at least for Cagliostro, almost everyone was up here for the wedding. The largest casualties in the country were livestock, and elderly that were staying home and couldn’t travel.”
Jigen grimaced. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Lupin said, staring at his hands as they sat folded between his legs. “I was not…expecting the whole levy to break apart.”
Jigen sighed and picked up the oars again, determined to get to their destination before this got too heavy. “Don’t blame yourself, though. Blame the people who forgot how the mechanism worked. And the ones who forced your hand.”
Lupin shrugged a shoulder and idly brushed at one of the long ostrich feathers on his hat. Jigen could see the look on his face: Yeah, but I was going to do it anyway, just to see what happened. Even if it hadn’t been under duress. And if it’d been any other day, like in the original plan…
And no doubt, that thought was going to make his mind go to another particular death they’d been trying not to deal with for the last two years.
“Hey,” Jigen said. “That’s thieving work. You never know what’s going to happen.”
Lupin looked up at him momentarily, but only on the way to resting his chin in his hand again as he silently gazed at the distant shore. He nodded, but it was mostly lost in the gentle waves.
After a few quiet minutes of watching the distant party coming to life beyond the upcoming dock, which was still a few minutes out, Jigen asked, “Since you seem to have been doing the research on it…let me ask you.”
Lupin glanced at him, though he didn’t move otherwise. “Mm?”
“How’s the country fairing politically, anyway?” Jigen leaned forward and lowered his voice, minimizing the chances of being overheard just in case the wind was blowing the right direction. “Didn’t look too bad on the way in…. We uncovered the counterfeit money scheme and you deposed—or rather, disposed—of the “evil count,” but...weren’t all of his guys still in the country? She’s lucky there was no coup, yeah?”
“Yeah.... I think Zenigata helped with that, actually,” Lupin admitted. “And I gave her some instructions, too.”
“You...did?”
This was news to him.
Lupin shrugged and touched at his neck. He glanced at Jigen, and then stared down at the dark water.
“I…may have left her a little communication device. To use ‘in case of emergencies that need your loyal thief.’”
Jigen stared, mouth agape. Lupin looked off guiltily.
Jigen stared harder, gaping wider—and nearer.
“What?” Lupin asked suspiciously, leaning back a little.
“Are you serious?” Jigen hissed.
“It was in a button,” Lupin muttered, clasping both hands behind his neck this time as he looked back at Jigen dubiously. “A little rose-shaped button.”
“Oh my God,” Jigen said. “Why are you two a walking fairy tale?”
“Because I like fairy tales, okay?” Lupin grumbled, doubling down on looking to-and-fro embarrassedly. “And she’s, like, a real princess in a real castle? What better chance was I going to get?”
“Oh my dear Lord,” Jigen continued, tipping his head back. “What if Zenigata had found that? Or someone else exploited it?”
“Then I would have known to come help her, but honestly, you don’t need to worry—it would have been way too much work to track us down; it uses a dummy barrier and wifi.”
Jigen let out a long breath. He really wished he’d known about this, the last few years. Could have come in handy more than a time or two, when Lupin was moping around. “So...you two have been...internet penpals, all this time?”
“Kinda.”
Except…if it were all this time...?
Jigen narrowed his eyes as Lupin’s knee started to bounce again.
Lupin suddenly sighed, putting down his hat on that knee. He touched a bit of the ostrich feather idly. His sigh made it waver.
“Until...”
Jigen’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t!”
Lupin glanced at him, then nodded, lips pursed and nodding glumly. “...Yeah.”
“You stopped talking to her after...? That was almost two years ago, she must think you’re dead!”
Lupin flipped on the hat. It was enormous and piratical and fluffed in the slight summer evening breeze.
“She must have cried over you!”
“Cried a lot,” Lupin agreed.
“You...” Jigen swore. “You kept it on? You heard it?”
“...I did.”
“And yet you didn’t ever tell her ‘I survived, don’t tell anyone, please don't cry’?! Not even once?!”
Lupin had no answer to this. He stayed silent, eyes hidden.
Jigen took a breath and shook his head. “That’s cold even for you, Lupin.”
“...I know,” Lupin replied.
Jigen pursed his lips. “I mean, it’s one thing when it’s me, who’s in this business as a lifer. But a kid? When were you thinking you’d contact her again?”
“...Jigen,” Lupin reprimanded softly. “Everyone thinks I’m dead, and I didn’t plan on changing that.”
It was Jigen’s turn to go silent. Lupin looked at him almost desperately, but Jigen didn’t have much to say to that. They’ve been over this many times, and it never seemed to get any better.
“I’ll be here for you, you know,” Jigen promised. “I’m not going anywhere just because of a little thing like a missing limb or two.”
“Little thing…” Lupin just looked at him sadly, that same dead look in his eyes.
“Hey!” Jigen said with pepp, quickly changing tactics. “I brought soup! Your favorite, it’s got lots of mushy carrots!”
But Lupin’s gaze, once so sharp and proud, just dripped hollow tears into the bowl. “She loved this soup.”
Jigen nodded, took a long breath as he gazed at the sky, and then offered, “I’m not gonna judge you for it, but if you surprise her with it, she might...hate you.”
“That’s certainly a possibility,” Lupin admitted, looking up at the sky too, making it hard to see his face. “But I just have to wish upon the stars of Cagliostro, don’t I?” He murmured. “And trust in the heart I’ve still got up my sleeve.”
‘My heart’…
Lupin hadn’t spoken of that in a long while. Jigen still wasn’t sure if all this was a good idea in the end, but if it got Lupin even a fraction of an inch closer to his old confidence, he’d be happy for it.
It’ll be worth it, he told himself. You’re just worried for him.
And for the princess too, if he was honest about it. Lupin was in a fragile enough state, but if she thought Lupin was dead, then he suddenly showed up alive and well, only to leave the next night... It’d actually make it worse for her. Much worse.
“Hey, Lupin...”
“Maybe she’s still got some of the romantic bits I planted in her, and now she can give them back to me, if they’ve blossomed….”
Jigen’s mouth snapped shut.
Lupin hiccupped and touched at his eyes. “Ah, row slower, or the water splashing will smear my makeup.”
Jigen was hardly even rowing at this point. But he played along and did as he was told. After all, that was all he’d ever done, wasn’t it? That was his job—support Lupin in whatever way he needed so that they could both make it out with the loot.
And this time, the loot…
After Lupin hid his face in his hands and they both pretended he wasn’t weeping, Jigen rubbed his leg against Lupin’s remaining one.
Lupin immediately tensed, but it stopped him from crying, so Jigen doubled down. He pulled the oars in and set his hands on Lupin’s knees.
“Jigen, you’re going to make it worse, what are you doing,” Lupin pleaded, but it was a sad, thankful note, rather than real protest.
When Jigen touched him like this, he knew it gave him ghost vibes. But this was also a good way to keep him grounded without patronizing him.
But this time, Lupin only got tighter. Jigen made a point of continuing to breathe slowly, trying to synchronize their breathing, but Lupin was forgetting to breathe entirely.
After a few moments of drifting like that, Jigen sighed and put his hands on Lupin’s skinny shoulders. “C’mere, dammit.” He pulled his friend in against his chest and sheltered him under his arms.
Lupin complied without a word, but he didn’t try to embrace Jigen back; he merely lay against him, quiet and still and shivering.
“I still see you as a whole man,” Jigen whispered to him, against the top of his head. “And I think she will too. But if you don’t want to, we can turn back. No shame. Some other time, maybe—”
“No no, I want to do this…”
Lupin rubbed his face against Jigen’s vest and then patted his back. As he sat up and pulled away, he forced a smile for his partner. His tears were gold and blue, the castle reflected in them upside down and in miniature.
“God, why am I so nervous?” Lupin asked, wiping at his eyes. “What the hell even am I anymore, if I can’t even get up the nerve to ask a twenty-something girl to dance?”
“A girl you like. A lot,” Jigen said quietly, after a moment. “A girl with a lot of bodyguards, from whom you no longer have the ability to run away reliably.”
Lupin’s reply was a pained expression.
“Is it hurting you?” Jigen asked clinically.
“No, I...think we’ve got it pretty well put together. But thank you.” Lupin sniffled resolutely, then hocked a lugie over the side of the boat.
Charming, Jigen thought, watching a fish eagerly appear to eat it.
I wonder if it’s that same fish….
But before he could rib Lupin on it, Lupin turned back and announced with a broad, cheesy smile, “Besides. Can’t let all that fantastic partner-dancing on your part go to waste, can I?”
Jigen hadn’t, in fact, minded the dress rehearsal’s giant dress as much as he’d feared. It was just...a new experience, he told himself. New.
And interesting.
But mostly...new. That was all.
And frilly.
And he’d never speak of it again.
“Ah hem, an’way,” Jigen began, pulling out a thick (far more thick than was reasonable in this day and age, but which people adored anyway) drawl from Texas, “Seems we’ve arraived, yer highniss.”
Lupin chortled. He never had been able to resist that, and it made Jigen smile back.
This moment—was a job well done.
Tonight felt like the era Before, and that was the whole point, he supposed. Cagliostro had been good to them, and probably still needed them six ways from Sunday. It was most likely the best place to make a new start.
It’d been so long since he’d seen Lupin smile genuinely. For Jigen’s part, this night was the culmination of a lot of long nights holding him while he cried from nightmares, and days trying to entice him to eat while he sat around staring out windows for hours on end.
For Lupin’s part, it was much, much more than that, though Jigen wasn’t going to jinx it by thinking about the details.
In any event, Jigen had been happy for the spark this party had offered them, even if it involved frantic all-nighters to put plans together. (Which were, really, nothing compared to the danger of what they used to do, but they were both out of practice anymore, and Jigen, frankly, was getting close to once and for all being “too old for this.”)
Still, his old accent was annoying to have to produce, but only because he was so good at it that it brought him more attention than he was accustomed to.
But maybe I’m just going to be relegated to manservant after this, huh? If all goes right. So what’s my dignity matter, anyway. Time to be a hick again one last time, self. For your boss.
Jigen pulled in the oars as they docked. There were a group of people checking in dignitaries, and while they had been expecting some boats, they were clearly expecting motorized ones. Their canoe barely went up to the wood of the dock. But that was style for you.
And when it came to style, where there was a will, there was a way. Jigen flipped on his own hat—his normal hat style, really, just with bigger wings—and hopped onto the dock without the help of attendants. As he gave them the guide rope, the heavy spurs on his heels clicked and clacked—invigorating memories of a longaway time in a longaway place.
“Well, leht’s geht this hat and leathir party awn, yeh haaw!” he said, shaking the last bit out with pumped fists like it was a real joy. It was gutteral and even hurt a bit, it was so loud.
“What have I done,” he heard Lupin whisper behind him. Everyone around them had startled silent and gone as still as the statues.
But Jigen only smirked, readjusting his hat as he reached down for Lupin. Well, at least now yer not thinkin about yer damn deficiencies—ah, crap, now I’m thinking in it, too! Augh!
His friend grabbed his hand and lifted out of the boat, light as a fairy from the old stories. He didn’t even wobble when he got onto the dock, and, standing hand-in-hand facing Jigen, Lupin smiled triumphantly.
When he looked up, pleased, his sparkling eyes caught Jigen’s, and he instantly looked down again.
“Thank you,” he whispered, gripping Jigen’s fingers under the lights and streamers and stars. “For getting me here tonight.”
Jigen knew that meant a lot more than the surface words. But he just smiled and gripped Lupin’s hands back. “No problem. Now go have fun.”
Lupin smiled and his slender hands slipped out of Jigen’s.
After that, Jigen quickly helped him into his heavy three-quarters colonial English overcoat and fancy hat. The breeches and everything else from the waist down were already on, including the period-accurate high-heeled shoes.
When they were done, Lupin moved ahead to speak to the attendant; Jigen stayed back, picking up their Carnival masks and making sure everything was in order with the boat.
When he was done, he looked at the clear stars, now so numerous they cluttered the view overhead, and then at the lights around them, mirroring the heavens as they reflected in the water. The whole sky was a moody navy blue now, but it did set off Lupin’s red and gold costume nicely.
He watched Lupin’s slender back as his friend, done checking in under their assumed names with a black-suited maître D’, surveyed the landscape—feathered pirate hat, gold embroidery, lace cuffs, engraved cane and all. He looked straight and tall and elegant, and, most importantly, like he was excited. Not necessarily invincible anymore, and maybe not even whole. But he at least looked like he was fully here, and for the moment, ready to stay that way.
Ready to finally leave Jigen's protective arms behind.
Oh well, Jigen decided, as he wiped at his eyes under his mask and pretended it was just because there was something in them. It’s a night for memories anyway, isn’t it? Might as well make some new ones…
Lupin, almost ready to disappear around the corner of a large motor boat, leaned back on his cane and motioned Jigen over with his head.
“You ready to steal a princess?” he whispered with a grin when Jigen joined him at his side.
“Oh yes,” Jigen said, matching it with his own toothy smile. “I’ve even got my lasso.”
“Do you really?” Lupin asked, blinking rapidly.
“Indeed.” Jigen patted his hip and the length of rope there, which everyone else no doubt thought was ceremonial, or a quaint prop at best. “And I know how to use it.”
“Hah. Well good.” Lupin affixed his mask to his face, but underneath, Jigen could see the stars reflected in his determined eyes. “We’re going to need it.”