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“Oh. Perfect.” She snuck a quick kiss in on his cheek. “We can practice before our younglings get here so we can whoop their butts at all the games.”
The casual words stunned him into following her. She pulled him out and onto the dock before poking her head in and telling Drevor to go have fun and comm them when he returned. He grunted in agreement before flying away – like he really was her assistant.
“Let’s go!” Sandy grabbed Rane’s hand and led him to the door.
This was the kind of place families went to. But Elffa had forced Rane’s father away before Rane could even form memories. And she was certainly not the type that would ever set foot in a place like this. It also wasn’t the kind of place where she could get him a lot of bad PR without making him do something reprehensible that was likely to end up with him in custody.
As much as he disliked her, he couldn’t deny her intelligence. She knew exactly how much trouble to get him in to keep him under her thumb without making him a ward of the government. So, he’d never been to a family friendly place like this.
Walking inside, it was almost intimidating. He didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t catching a ball or downing some kind of stimulant – or recovering from those intoxicants. He knew his way in places like those, but here…
Then, Sandy just walked up to the employee taking entrance fees and asked them how everything here worked. She didn’t even have to explain that she was a human and needed help. She just asked him for it. And he gave it to her.
In moments, they had their gaming tokens – bought by hid credz – and they were rushing onto the game floor. She was laughing like a youngling as she brought him to literally the first game that they saw.
“It’s like whack-a-mole,” she said as they stepped onto the platform.
It was actually a fighting simulation game. He put in the token, starting up the game, which surrounded them on all sides by floating targets. The goal was to strike as many as they could, as fast and as acutely as they could, before time ran out.
A child’s game. One he was much better at than her, just by reflexes alone. But one she also had way more fun playing. She was bad at it, she laughed at her own incompetence, then cheered him on when he began dominating the scoreboard.
He started the game a bit trepidatious, but when they began the second round, he was laughing along with her as they played together.
Once they finished there, they moved onto a tossing game. They had to lob light spheres into rings, trying to get more points than the other. He let her win the first time, only to get lectured about going easy on her, then purposefully lost to her again.
When she gave him a glowering look, lips pinched in her effort to not smile, he laughed and kissed the top of her head.
“Must be luck,” he said.
“Funny, my grandma would have called it bullshit.”
“She was indeed a charming and lovely female.”
Sandy broke, laughing, as, this time, he took her hand and pulled her to the next game. In this one, they controlled light swords and had to strike down enemies – working as a team instead of competitively. He destroyed their virtual opponents with a vengeance – shamelessly posing for his female as she laughed and admired him. She didn’t get nearly as many kills as he had, but it was a team game this time, and he would give every victory to her anyway, so it was all hers.
After that, the first youngling approached.
“Excuse me, Tillo Rane.”
Completely unprepared to be addressed with an honorific, Rane started in surprise before turning. He had to look down at the young boy that had approached him with a nervous smile, thin canvas in hand, his little purple crest fully up and flared out.
“Hello,” Rane said, confused.
“Sorry to bother you, but can I get your handprint!” He eagerly held up the canvas.
Rane blinked. He had given out handprints before. It was a very common thing to ask for when you met someone famous. It had just been so long since anyone had asked for his like this. Especially a youngling.
A few steps back, appearing a bit uncertain and uncomfortable, were his parents. The mother was biting her lip while the father looked at him with a slight glare. It didn’t appear they’d really wanted their son to approach, but the excitement on the boy’s face told him that he’d been determined.
Rane looked at Sandy, uncertain as well, but she just smiled and motioned for him to do it.
Coming down on one knee he pressed his hand against the canvas. The fabric was a special kind, designed to take and hold the prints of others and, once set, wouldn’t let them be replaced or covered by another.
The canvas warmed under his palm, taking his print. It was a very quick process. When he picked up his hand, his print was left behind in bright, golden lines.
The boy gasped, staring at the canvas in awe. Like he’d just received the greatest gift. The sight sparked something warm and wonderful in his chest. Something he’d long forgotten. How great it was to speak with people that didn’t hate him. That even admired him.
“What’s your name?” He asked the youngling, eager to prolong that feeling.
