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"The Brighton Lineage is at a loss," Kent Brighton says from across the table. The Brink is bustling this afternoon, so the ambient noise ensures he, Grand, and Echo won't be overheard. "Our most prized artifact, the Gem of Deluges, was stolen two months ago. We thought it might have been put on the Catapult and shot out of the system, but now it looks like the culprits, some petty brigands—" Kent makes a disgusted face, "—are going to be showing it off at a party in the next week before auctioning it to the highest bidder."
"And you need us to… what?" Grand asks, though he's pretty sure he knows where this is going. "Go to the party and steal it back for you?"
"Yes, exactly that. I can provide cover identities," Kent says as he slides a sheaf of paper toward them. "And a distraction."
Echo takes the papers and thumbs through them while Grand leans over to read them, too. Echo angles their shoulders in such a way as to make doing so impossible.
"This sounds pretty simple, but why ask for us? Why can't you just… steal it back yourselves?" Echo asks, setting the papers aside.
Grand snags them and skims for himself: the papers document what they know of the thieves, including a dossier of their ringleader, Xander Hooke. There are schematics of the party venue, and a brief write-up of the gem—an item that is less a "gem" and more a data crystal containing precise data about every ship in the fleet, among other—redacted—things.
When he glances back up, Kent has folded his hands in front of himself and is smiling. "Why, because you're Gig's friends and I trust you! Of course, I trust Gig and Even as well, but… It's difficult to pass either of them off as anyone but who they are. You two could be anybody! And besides, you've worked together before, so it won't be difficult for you to work together again."
"And the distraction?" Echo presses.
Kent doesn't duck his head in time to hide the flush rising to his cheeks. "Yes, well. As I said, it's impossible to pass Gig off as anyone else, so he won't be going under an assumed identity."
So Gig is going to be there. Well, he'll be some kind of a distraction alright. Grand's attention goes back to the papers. On closer reading, he notices the cover identities: a pair of moderately well-off oddity collectors from Skein, Aster and Milari Cruse.
"Why—why a married couple?" he asks.
Echo snorts. "What, something wrong with being married to me?"
"What? No!" Grand backpedals and holds up his hands in a placating gesture. The last thing he wants to do is pick a fight with Echo about this. But… "It's just, I don't know. Weird. Why can't we go in separately? Wouldn't that be better?"
"We could only secure two invites," says Kent, eyes downcast. "We're using one for Gig, so to get the both of you in, one of you needs to be a 'plus one.' The best way to manage that is a close partnership, like a marriage."
Still a little skeptical, Grand says, "I guess that makes sense…"
"I swear that there's no other way to get you in without arousing suspicion." Kent's eyes don't leave his hands, still folded together on the table. "Perimeter security will be too tight for there to be any hope of an infiltration without an invitation."
Grand takes a steadying breath. He can do this. He can pretend to be Echo's spouse. No problem. "Okay," he says, "so what kind of dress code are we looking at here?"
Kent coughs. "Well…"
*
Grand's closet taunts him. It's full to the brim with items he would wear for any and all occasions, but he can't tell if anything would fit Milari Cruse. If he were going to be of interest to Echo—Aster—he'd need to be adventurous, right? Oddity collectors were, in his experience, either stuffy or eccentric. Boring or wild.
He picks out a long-sleeved shirt printed with holographic tropical flowers and a pair of yellow-purple-and-green plaid slacks. He's not sure what kind of statement Milari is trying to make with this outfit, but he's sure it's the statement of a definitely-not-boring person.
When he steps out of his bunk to show Tender Milari's outfit, he finds Echo already in the common area, dressed in what Grand can only assume is their nicest crop top—it's embroidered with a dragon snaking around the left side—a pair of athletic pants, and combat boots polished to a neat shine. It's not a bad look. Maybe not great for an oddity collector, but Grand has to admit that they look good.
They always look good, a tiny voice in the back of his head supplies, but Grand clamps down on that thought before it can go any further.
Tender, on the other hand, looks… less than pleased.
"There's no way I'm letting either of you go to the party dressed like that," she says with her hands on her hips.
"What's wrong with it?" Echo replies at the same time Grand protests, "I'm perfectly respectable!"
She waves a dismissive hand. "We don't have enough time for me to even start on why this is all wrong. Give me a few minutes and I'll have something more in line with what you said the dress code was."
Grand glances down at himself, then over at Echo. "Well, I think we look great."
Tender rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "You have no taste. I'm serious, stay here and I'll have something for you that's worth wearing." With that, she leaves Grand and Echo alone in the common room of The World Without End as she goes to find?—make?—new clothing for them.
Grand breaks the silence first. "I don't get what her problem is. The invite said 'evening attire' and this is definitely 'evening attire.'"
"I don't want to wear something restrictive in case something happens," Echo says. And Grand can hardly fault them for that. It seems like wherever they go, something always happens, even when they aren't trying to commit a heist in a place full of less-than-savory characters. It only makes sense for them to want to be ready for anything.
"I don't get what her problem is," Grand repeats, shaking his head.
"Whatever," says Echo. "No sense in arguing now."
True to her word, Tender returns five minutes later with several items slung over her arms. "C'mon, Echo," she says. "You first." She doesn't wait for a response before grabbing them by the hand and dragging them back to the escape pod serving as her room.
With nothing else to do, Grand claims one of the couches nearest the door headed in the direction of Tender's room. The habit to sketch in the air when he's bored is still with him, so he sits on his hands while he waits.
Echo steps back into the common room. "Your turn," they tell him.
Grand looks up at their words and freezes. Tender has dressed them in a cropped white button-down shirt with a similarly cropped pastel pink vest. Over that, she's put them in a pink-trimmed white bolero jacket and a pink bow-tie. The whole outfit is topped off with a pair of white slacks with pink piping down the legs, white gloves, and a pair of sensible white shoes. His brain helpfully reminds him, they always look good, but he's too stunned to try to deny it this time.
"Oh, uh," he stammers after a moment. Heat creeps into his cheeks and he looks away. "That's, um—that's a good look."
"It's not bad," Echo says again. "Tender wants to get you dressed now that I'm done."
"Oh! Yeah. Right." Grand pushes himself off the sofa. He stares for another few seconds, too stunned to get his limbs to move. He's just thankful his jaw isn't hanging open. How had he not realized that Echo would look this nice in formalwear?
"I think she meant 'right now,'" Echo chides, snapping Grand out of it.
"Right! Right. Yeah." Without looking back up at Echo, Grand brushes past them and heads back to Tender's room.
When he enters, she shoves a piece of clothing into his hands. "Here. Put this on." Then she turns her back to him so he can change.
He holds up the garment. As it turns out, Tender has chosen to clothe him in a floor-length cocktail gown made out of black sequined fabric. It has a deep-V neckline and a slit on one side that goes almost all the way up to his hip.
It's nowhere near what he would've picked, and he's not sure what sort of a statement that Milari is trying to make with it. But it is a statement; the sort of statement some rich oddity collector might make. When Tender turns back around, she's grinning. "Perfect!"
She plants her hands on his shoulders and turns him back toward the door. "Now let's make sure you look good standing next to each other." Her hands go to the small of his back as she ushers him out.
Echo stares at him for a long moment when he returns, and Grand can feel the first prickles of a flush rising up his neck again. He tries to fight it down and is only mildly successful. God, he hopes Echo doesn't notice.
They clear their throat. "That's. That's a good look, too."
"Thanks," Grand mumbles. "It's, uh, not what I'm used to."
"It's fabulous is what it is," Tender corrects him. "You both look great, and you look great together ."
Grand shrugs. It's definitely not the ensemble either of them would have picked, but he can't find it in himself to say that Tender is wrong.
*
The party takes place near a little town called Esper-by-the-Leaves on Gift-3, but they have to take a shuttle to arrive at the venue, a palatial mansion with more statues and topiaries in the front lawn than can possibly be tasteful. Most of them are shaped into varying geometric forms, with the exception of the two nearest the entrance. These are trimmed into the distinct shapes of people—one person, specifically: Xander Hooke.
It's not the least subtle thing Grand has seen a party's host do, but it's up there.
A queue snakes out from the front doors of the mansion, perhaps twenty people long and hemmed in on both sides by conspicuous security. Most of the people in front of them are dressed in subdued tones, but a few are dressed in vivid colors. Grand is forced to admit that Tender's instincts were right. They would've had no hope of blending in without her help.
The line moves slowly, as people trickle through a security checkpoint set up right before the door. They'd known there would be something like that, and Echo had left Elegy back on the ship so as not to cause a fuss, but Grand…
Well. The specialized thigh holster he wore chafes a little bit, but the slit up the side of his dress keeps his gun from ruining the lines of it. It had cost him a pretty penny and required him to call in a couple of favors, but it keeps the gun invisible to the naked eye, and supposedly to scanners like the one at the checkpoint.
It's hard not to be nervous as they approach. Echo looks as cool and level-headed as always, but Grand can't help but shift from foot to foot. If the guards pick up his gun, it's all over.
Soon, it's their turn. Echo goes first, and the machine remains quiet. What do they need a weapon for when their whole body is a weapon? They turn to Grand, waiting.
After a moment's hesitation, Grand steps through.
"Thank you for your cooperation," the guard says. "Enjoy the party."
Grand lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and flashes a wary smile. "Thanks. We will."
Echo hooks their arm through Grand's and smiles at the guard. "Have a good one," they add before tugging Grand in the direction of the door. He doesn't relax, exactly, but some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. There's still one last hurdle.
The doorperson—a portly gentleman with green hair and matching rabbit ears—nods in their direction once they've reached the front of the line. "May I see your invitation?"
"Yeah. Right. Of course." Grand fumbles for a moment, having forgotten that he has no pockets to put the invitation in.
Echo pats his arm. "I've got it, dear, " they say. Grand stops dead at the way they emphasize the word, his stomach doing a lazy flip. Oh no.
They reach into their own pocket and hand the invitation—a garishly printed slip of stiff plastic with a retro mag-strip—to the doorperson. He turns it over in his hands to inspect it before swiping it through an ancient-looking reader. "Please provide your biometric data."
The moment of truth, where they see how well Kent and the Lineage Brighton have crafted their cover identities. Both Echo and Grand place their hands on the side of the reader.
It beeps, and the doorperson smiles. "Perfect, thank you. Welcome, Mx. and Mr. Cruse." He steps aside to let the pair of them past. "Please, enjoy the festivities."
As they step into the foyer, a booming voice echoes around them, "Please welcome Mx. Aster Cruse and Mr. Milari Cruse!"
Grand winces. Echo mouths 'subtle.'
They make their way to the main event space arm-in-arm, Echo a solid presence at Grand's side that makes it hard to concentrate. He'd never realized how warm Echo could be, not even on those nights back on Quire where they'd had to share a tent to keep from freezing. Yet here they are, and it's almost all Grand can think about.
The way they'd said the word 'dear' rattles around there, too.
When they clear the long hall and enter the ballroom, though, Grand's attention snaps up to what lies ahead of them.
While the exterior of the mansion is tacky and tasteless, the party itself is a garish parody of By-and-By sensibilities from a hundred years ago. It's a retro function aping an aesthetic that hadn't actually existed outside of fashion and interior design magazines. And it reminds Grand of that last party he'd attended before he'd finally gotten sick of it all.
To Echo, he mouths 'subtle,' and Echo snorts.
Together, they make their way into the crowd. Most of the party-goers remain disinterested in them, making it easy to skirt the dance floor unnoticed.
The disembodied voice continues to announce guests as they try to get the lay of the land. Towering ice sculptures, again of Mx. Hooke, stand in attendance in all four corners of the hall (Echelon Hue, it announces). Twin ramps draped in pink velvet rugs lead down to the dancefloor itself (Mariana Leeway, which is followed by a smattering of cheers). The wait staff drift in and out of partygoers' orbits wearing pink velvet outfits of their own (Carter's Garrison). An honest-to-goodness chamber orchestra provides live music for the whole affair (Allister Jackdaw and Martyr's Songbird, followed by a long, loud boo).
"Please welcome," the voice announces, "Mr. Gig Kephart and Mr. Kent Brighton!"
"What the hell does Kent think he's doing coming in here without a cover?" Echo growls.
Grand shakes his head. "I don't know, but does it matter? He's not our problem, and I bet he'll cause a better distraction as himself."
"Whatever. You're right. Gotta keep our eyes on the prize." Echo tightens their grip on his arm and flashes a wicked grin. "Let's do this. Darling. "
*
They find a good vantage point near one of the long buffet tables serving hors d'oeuvres. A cursory examination turns up tighter security than Kent's documents had led them to believe: at least ten plain-clothes guards that Grand could see, on top of ten others that were clumped near the Gem of Deluges. Grand swears under his breath. It isn't insurmountable, but it won't be easy.
The gem is at least on prominent display, resting on a pillar in what looks like nothing more than a glass case.
Hooke clearly expects their guests to behave with all the visible security around. Or maybe they fancy themself untouchable. It's a stupid assumption either way, but Grand isn't going to complain.
"We've still got an hour before the distraction is supposed to happen," Echo says. "Wanna split up and case the place?"
"We should mingle a little so we don't look suspicious," says Grand. "If you don't talk to people, you look out of place. Trust me, I've been to enough parties to know."
Rolling their eyes, Echo says, "Sounds like something shitty society types do."
"Well, yeah. We're supposed to be 'shitty society types.'"
"I've got a better idea," Echo says.
A passing member of the wait staff presses a flute of sparkling wine into Grand's hand, and he takes it on instinct. "What were you thinking?"
Echo shrugs. "Might as well go for the buffet while we're here."
"Sure," Grand says, sipping absently at the champagne. "I'll stay here and… uh, keep lookout, I guess?" As if Echo needs guarding while they investigate the buffet. He winces, but Echo doesn't seem to notice.
They leave Grand with his champagne, which he downs and gives the empty flute to another passing member of the wait staff. The alcohol is probably a bad idea, but… Well, a little liquid courage to get him through the evening might be in order.
As he scans the crowd, a pretty woman in an elegant teal suit and lacy cravat meets his eyes and smiles the sort of smile most at home on apex predators. He's seen the look often enough to recognize it for what it is: someone looking to pick off another person they view as vulnerable.
"My, what's such a handsome individual as yourself doing here all alone?" she purrs as she sashays up to Grand.
"I'm just waiting for my—for my spouse," Grand says, stumbling over the word. "They went to get some food before the auction starts."
The woman clicks her tongue. "Rather irresponsible of them to leave you on your lonesome among people who enjoy collecting pretty things."
Over the woman's head, he locks eyes with Echo and prays they understand.
Thankfully, they set aside their plate and make their way back towards Grand and the woman.
"There you are, dear! I got a little worried that I lost you!" Echo calls. They cut through the crowd and slide easily up to Grand's side. They slip their arm through Grand's as if it were a perfectly natural thing to do ( It's natural for Aster, he thinks).
The woman sizes Echo up before putting on a polite—if strained—smile. "Ah, such a pleasure to meet other discerning collectors," the woman says, extending a hand. "Cardinal's Sunrise."
"I'm Aster, and this is my husband, Milari." Echo leans heavily on the word 'husband' while their own expression turns dangerously cheerful.
"Pleasure," says Grand as he shakes Sunrise's hand. Her grip is firm, and her smile is sharp.
"I'm always so curious about the collections of others," she continues with a sort of self-satisfied tone to her voice. "Tell me, what's your favorite item?"
Grand smirks. He's been through this kind of contest before. "We appreciate the interest, Ms. Sunrise, but our collection is private. I'm sure you understand."
"Besides," adds Echo, "we all know where this 'gem' came from. I don't want anything we have to be next up."
The smile falls from Sunrise's face, replaced by a scowl. "Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying, you don't advertise items you plan on keeping," Echo says. "Isn't that right, dear?"
That last syllable makes Grand's thoughts stumble, and Echo has to nudge him in the ribs to get him to focus back on what's in front of him. He clears his throat. "Don't mind my spouse, they're just very protective." Which isn't a lie, with all the times Echo has leapt to their friends' defense. To his defense.
Sunrise sniffs and turns away. "Well. Enjoy your 'private collection.’ Good evening."
As she walks away, Echo tries and fails to smother a snicker. "Oh my god, is everyone here like that?"
"Probably," Grand says. "I don't want to talk to anyone else to find out. It's too much like the parties I used to go to back when I was on Memorius."
*
They stick together after that. A few partygoers stop to make small talk with them, and the subjects are generally the same: What's your collection like; how did you start collecting; what's your favorite piece in your collection? Grand's heard the same things among art collectors, back when he used to run in those circles. Some of them even had the same hungry expressions. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if some of them were here.
One couple, a pair of elderly-looking gentlemen, makes small talk with Grand and Echo—introducing themselves as Lore and Missive Lilywise. Lore is a willowy man, while Missive looks like he has finely toned muscles under the lines of his expensive suit.
Lore smiles at them. "So, how did you meet? Missive and I ran into each other at several parties like these in our youth until we decided to run into each other outside of them, but that's hardly interesting. No, you look like you have a story to tell."
Grand blanches. Neither of them had prepared for the eventuality of being asked this question. His mind races as he tries to come up with something convincing, something fitting of Aster and Milari.
Before he can flounder further, Echo gives his arm a squeeze. "Work trip. We'd never met before and I kind of hated him at first. But he grew on me until I kind of liked him. When he almost died, I realized I didn't want a world where he wasn't there. Then we didn't see each other for a year after the trip and when we met again…" They trail off and glance up at him with an expression that borders on adoration.
"Yeah," Grand says around the lump that has formed in his throat. "If it weren't for them, I'd be dead. And when I saw them again, I realized it was a mistake to have ever left. So here we are."
Echo's face goes unreadable for a moment after Grand says this, and he worries that he's said the wrong thing. But their expression settles back into a veneer of polite interest and the moment passes.
"That does sound daring," Missive says. "Ah, but if you'll excuse us, I do believe the dance floor calls." He grins at both of them then sweeps Lore into his arms and guides him away.
"Now's our chance. We need to get closer to the gem before anyone else tries to talk to us," Echo says, standing on their tiptoes to murmur into Grand's ear. Their breath tickles on his skin, and he has to fight down a shiver.
"If we just walk over, it'll look weird," Grand says.
"You got any better ideas?" Echo counters.
The music shifts from something forgettable to something more spritely. He glances over at where the gem sits, the wide dance floor between them, and the figures of Missive and Lore. A half-baked plan forms in Grand's mind, and it's too tenacious for him to shake it. "Yeah, I've got an idea."
He takes Echo's hands in his and puts one on his own shoulder while continuing to hold the other. In for a penny, right? "Just—just follow my lead," he whispers.
"What—"
But before he can lose his nerve, Grand puts his other hand on their waist and sweeps them onto the dance floor.
For the first few moments, Echo's movements lag behind Grand's, but it doesn't take long before they match him step for step. Their motions are fluid even though they don't know the dance. Of course, aren't the martial arts a little like dancing? And it's not like Echo isn't smart. It only makes sense that they'd catch on quickly.
Grand keeps them close as his steps lead them on a wide arc around the floor, aiming for a secluded alcove on the other side of the large hall. Though, this close to Echo… he finds it difficult to keep his eyes on where they're headed.
The ballroom is massive, with vaulted ceilings to keep it cool even when it's full of people, so Grand can hardly blame the warmth suffusing him on the air temperature. A part of him can't help but imagine that they aren't here on a mission, that they're here to enjoy themselves. A part of him can't help but want this song to continue forever.
But it doesn't. He's timed it well, and they step off the dance floor and into the alcove just as the music shifts again.
"I didn't know you could dance," Echo says, a little breathless. Grand's hand hasn't left their waist, nor has he let go of their other hand. Their face is a little pink, but they don't pull away.
Grand shrugs. "I mean, you go to enough parties and you kind of pick it up."
"Good thinking," Echo says. "Now we just have to wait for Kent and Gig's distraction."
"Yeah." Grand glances over Echo's shoulder as Echo peers around him, both of them scanning for any sign of incoming guards. As he's about to report the coast being clear, Echo swears.
"Someone's coming," they hiss.
Grand tenses. They can't risk an altercation before Kent and Gig have even had an opportunity to pull off their distraction, and they can't risk security ushering them away when they've found the best position they're going to get. He scowls, racking his brain for some sort of solution.
A beat later, Echo locks eyes with him.
"Okay, act cool," they whisper. They reach up to cup Grand's face with the hand that had been on his shoulder. Grand freezes. "Follow my lead, okay?"
"Okay," he breathes, because he's not sure he could say no to them while they're so close.
Echo leans up, and Grand sees it in slow motion. There's an eternity between them as Echo tugs Grand's face closer, an inevitability bearing down until finally Echo's lips meet his.
All thought flees Grand's mind, and his world narrows down to that point of contact then blooms out to where Echo still touches his cheek, to where Echo is pressed against him. Where Echo's kiss had seemed to be in slow motion, this moment feels crystallized in time.
Without thinking (thought is still beyond him), Grand's hand on Echo's waist slides to their lower back, and his other hand reaches for Echo's shoulder. It's as much to steady himself as it is to look the part of someone caught in his lover's embrace.
The guard they'd seen comes up behind them and clears her throat. "Honored guests, please reserve such conduct for any sort of after-party lodgings you have res—"
She stops short.
Kent had said they'd know the distraction when they saw it, and he is one hundred percent right. The commotion starts on the other end of the banquet hall, but the noise of it carries clear across the room. Kent yells indistinctly while Gig tries to yell over top of him.
"For fuck's sake," the guard grumbles. She tilts her head to one side as she listens to whoever is on the other side of her earpiece, then she starts back towards the dance floor.
A rumble rushes through the mansion, followed by another, then another. Now, more than just Kent and Gig are yelling, and the guard who'd caught them has switched from ambling in the direction of the ruckus to rushing toward it. Other guards follow suit though they're harried by the crowd growing more nervous with each subsequent rumble.
Finally, the rumbling stops as the ceiling is ripped away by four mechanical arms.
"Now's our chance," Echo hisses in Grand's ear.
There's a second of hesitation. It's comfortable being in Echo's personal space like this, breathless and warm. But the second passes as Echo steps away. Grand swallows. "Right," he says. "Let's go."
*
On the one hand, a pair of robots menacing the guests is wonderful for drawing half of security out into the open. On the other hand, a giant robot attack is a great way to get the rest of security to close ranks around their target.
One of the security guards raises a hand. "Honored guests, I'm going to need you to proceed to one of the other exits in an orderly fashion."
"Sorry, not gonna happen," says Echo. They fall into one of their martial arts stances. "Just let us have the gem and we'll be on our way."
Then, all hell breaks loose.
It's difficult for Grand to track the action around him. They're outnumbered to be sure, but they're not out-matched. He and Echo fall into a rhythm, trading blows with their opponents—well, mostly Grand trades blows. Echo dodges the bulk of them with a fluid grace that nearly distracts Grand until he takes a fist to his jaw. Then he pays attention to his own situation.
One of the guards rushes him. He catches the man in the solar plexus and brings his knee up to meet the man's face as he doubles over. As he crumples to the ground in a heap, a distant part of Grand imagines that none of this is good for the fabric of his dress. Hopefully Tender wasn't expecting to get it back undamaged.
Next to him, Echo dispatches two more security guards, striking lightning fast at pressure points as they, too, fall to the ground. In the time it takes Grand to deal with the next guard that tries to take him down, Echo has dealt with the rest.
"Good job," Echo tells him, flashing a tired smile. There's a little blood on the cuffs of their jacket, one of their gloves has split at the seam, and their left cheek is already bruising, but they don't look much worse for wear.
That's when Grand catches sight of her: behind Echo, one of the guards they'd disabled—thought they disabled—pulls a knife from somewhere on her person and lunges at Echo's back.
There isn't time to warn them. By the time they react, it'll be too late. So he does the only thing he can think to do.
The gun's report reverberates through the room like rolling thunder, and the guard drops to one knee as she clutches her shoulder. The tactical knife falls from her hand with a clatter. Grand's ears ring, but his hand doesn't shake as he keeps his weapon trained on the guard. "Don't make me shoot you again," he says. His voice sounds distorted to his own ears.
They'll be ringing for days, he's sure of it—a minor inconvenience when compared with the fact that Echo could've gotten stabbed.
The guard holds up both the hand not applying pressure to her wound. "Fuck, I'm not getting paid enough for this," she wheezes. "Take it, I don't give a shit."
"On it," Echo says. They reach into their pocket and take out something that looks like an old-fashioned glass cutter before launching themself at the pillar. Grand can't make sense of the way they move, only that they do so with a fluid grace he could never hope to match. They climb to the top and cling there with their legs and one arm while they take the glass cutter and open a hole in the case. The gem fits easily in the palm of their hand, and they stuff it into their pocket before jumping back down.
Echo brushes their hands off on their pants and glances back at Grand. "Let's get out of here."
*
The unfortunate side effect of stealing from a person whose party has just been almost literally crashed is that catching a shuttle back to your ship is… difficult.
Thankfully, Kent finds them in the confusion. "Well done!" he whoops. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble?"
"If you had those mechs waiting, what'd you need us for?" Grand huffs.
"Drone mechs are hardly capable of the fine work necessary for taking back the Gem of Deluges!" Kent says, indignant. "Besides, we could only piggyback the control signal off of Gig's stream suppressor for so long. Come on, we've got transportation waiting."
"Why'd you bother to show up if you were just going to attack with giant robots anyway? We could've used the other invite," Echo grumbles.
"We needed to be on the inside to make sure nothing important got damaged," Kent says with a scowl. "Xander Hooke may not care about the rules of engagement, but the Brighton Lineage still does."
He leads them out of the mansion and out to the back lawn. There, waiting, is a small skiff. "Here we are. It's going to be cramped, but we can return to town and get you back on your way."
The skiff's boarding ramp lowers just in time for the group to run up it, and it snaps shut behind them as soon as Grand—bringing up the rear—has boarded. Inside there is a pilot's chair and a bench barely big enough for two people, let alone three.
Kent claims the pilot's chair and starts lift-off procedures before Gig, Echo, and Grand have had a chance to sit down. The three of them scramble to arrange themselves and strap in before the skiff takes off. Grand ends up squished in the middle, with Echo and Gig nearly in his lap.
Echo remains silent as they fly back to Esper proper, but Gig fills the quiet with bright chatter about all the footage he has to work with from the party. "It'll be a great exposé," he says with a grin.
"Yeah, it'll be great," Grand says dully. The job is over, and now he has to pretend that acting like Echo's partner didn't have any effect on him. Gig doesn't seem to notice the lack of enthusiasm and continues cheerfully on about what he plans to cut together.
After what feels like an eternity, but which is probably only the same twenty minutes that it took for them to get there, Kent brings the skiff down at a landing pad just at the outskirts of Esper-by-the-Leaves. Nearby, The World Without End waits for them.
Echo hands the Gem of Deluges to Kent before they disembark, and Kent wishes them well. "Your payment will be in your accounts shortly!" he assures them as they leave. Echo brushes past Grand and Gig without saying a word.
"See ya 'round, buddy!" Gig says to Kent, clapping him on the shoulder and squeezing.
Grand sees Kent's cheeks go pink, but he doesn't stick around to see what, if anything, Kent chooses to say. Instead, he trails behind Echo as they make their way to the open hangar bay of The World Without End.
Once they're on board, Echo starts shedding their outfit. First the gloves, then the tie, then the jacket, then the vest. They leave these things in a pile next to their fishing net hammock while they rummage through their things for a change of clothes.
"What do you want, Mag?" Echo asks with a tired voice when they look up. "Shouldn't you get changed and get that back to Tender?"
Grand looks down at his dress, rumpled as it is with its skirt torn and sequins missing. "Not sure she's gonna want this back," he says in an attempt at levity. His tone falls short and lands somewhere in the realm of listless.
Echo snorts. "Yeah. Guess mine isn't doing so hot either." They lapse back into silence for a moment before reaching out and taking one of Grand's hands. "Hey. Thanks. For what you did back there."
"You would've done the same," Grand demurs, glancing away. Echo's fingers are warm around his, and he imagines he can feel the scrape of the calluses formed by a lifetime of training with Elegy. Almost instinctively, he gives Echo's fingers a faint squeeze.
"No," Echo says. "Well, I mean that, too. But that's not what I'm talking about. Tonight kinda put some stuff into perspective."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Echo shakes their head as if to clear it. "Listen, Mag, I—fuck, this is so dumb."
Before Grand can process what's happening, Echo's tugged him into their personal space. Echo's other hand cups his jaw in a mirror of what had happened in the secluded alcove a mere hour before. He blinks down at them, throat almost too dry to speak. The only thing he can manage is a dumbfounded, "Wh—" before Echo cuts him off.
"Listen. I'm only gonna say this once. I like you a lot, and I want to know what it'd be like for me to kiss you without some stupid thing we've gotta steal." Their expression is fierce and determined. "Sound good?"
Still not quite able to form words, Grand just nods.