I noticed Ash was taking in the venue with proportionally less shock and awe than I was. Castles and palaces and the likes over the course of the life she lived probably had long numbed her eyes to the hypnotic allure of glimmering chandeliers and million-dollar tapestries.

Nope, no grappling with a sorta wondrous sense of futility like I was. Like the fact that the courtyard alone was probably triple the size of the whole of my property line just fills my soul with this cosmic unease of the utter scope and scale of everything else around us relative to the reality I was used to living in.

Is there like a correlation of some kind between wealth accumulated and one’s sense of self-perception? The more money you own, the bigger you start to feel? All these giant houses in a world of such tiny people... makes you think.

A kindly valet standing out front took over for Hayley on the wheel to go foraging a parking space somewhere. Shouldn’t be too hard, he’s probably just gonna go around back where they got their own multi-level parking lot stashed next to the underground subway.

The interiors of the estate was just as much a marvel to marvel to once we actually managed to clamber up the entire flight of front steps to get into it. An entire foyer as wide and grand as any you’d find in the regal halls of aristocracy.

I didn’t even know where to begin to look with every square-inch of the place playing the most blinding and chaotic tug-of-war game with my eyes; marble floorings leading an intricately tiled trail towards everywhere else, a pair of grand stairways leading up and then even higher up in steps of brightly carpeted red. Furnishings, light fixtures, decors adorn along every wall and vast empty space. Pretty much enough of everything in this one room to complete an entire three-bedroom house and then some.

Part of that decadent charm was the people that filled the vast space. Other invitation-only’s that were a lot more punctual and timely than we were.

They were spread out over the place, frolicking the way men and women of high esteem do: champagne glasses in one hand, a light snack pinched between fingers, and in their own little quaint circles of conversation.

I never felt more out of place anywhere in the world than I did being here. Toss me in a fantasy world even, I’d at least make do as a humble farmhand. Here, though... my suit and tie just felt like pieces of a costume and character I’ve been severely miscast as.

"So, what now?" I turn to Hayley, hoping she’d be my guiding light to course us safely through in this realm of many unknowns.

"For you guys? Beats me. I have some people here to talk to actually, so I’m gonna go do that first real quick."

"People? What people?"

"You think I’m just here to sing and look pretty? Look around! These are business people here. Investors, brokers. I got a business too, you know? Be nice if it was a little bigger than it is, you get me?"

Hayley then scampered off, heels clacking away in feebler and feebler echoes until it had become just another part of a single whole that was this party, but not before she called out again, probably seeing how lost I looked just standing there, "Just go explore, have fun—mingle! It’s a party, so party!"

It was a good suggestion on her part. In theory, anyway. Guy like me mingle in a crowd like this... I mean, there’s a good reason you don’t just ask a fish to climb a tree, do you?

I gave my hand at it anyway. I went and led the three of us into one of the other rooms leading out of the foyer—another big room, big surprise—and did my darndest to engage with it. Admiring the art, snacking on snacks, climbing up trees. I shot Dad a text too, telling him I was here. Until I hear from him, guess I’ll just keep climbing.

Ash followed along after me, doing the same things I was doing only much, much better. Her in that dress, wandering through marble halls that echo, a studious gaze on her face as she attempted to extract meaning out of the wild splashes of colors and jagged lines on some manic painter’s canvas hung on the wall. If beauty was in the eye of the beholder then I say she got every one of these million-dollar frames beat.

Others were starting to take notice of her presence too. I look around and more and more I see heads turning and eyes snapping in her direction. Inadvertently, Ash had made herself the centerpiece to this little art gallery... just as I feared she would.

So fascinated I was in other people’s fascination, that it took another full look around the room before I realized I lost track of Sera completely.

"A cube and a pyramid," Ash tossed her head sidewards, the greater symbolism behind two geometric shapes brushed haphazardly onto a giant sheet of paper eluding her so. "Overlapping over one another. Their merges incongruent. Edges crudely drawn. Wholly incompatible and yet... still in a close oneness in spite of the fact. Does this mean to convey that it is disparity and friction that forges the closest bond?"

After a moment of thought, Ash flung her head the other way.

"Hmm... what do you think, Master?"

Frankly, I think she was reading too much into it. It’s a cube fused with a pyramid. Maybe the artist just likes shapes.

"I think they should give each other some space, do them some good," I muttered back half-heartedly, still scouring the place for a flutter of something purple. "Any chance you saw where Sera went? I really do not want to find her later chilling around in some secret room you open with a bookshelf."

"Sera has gone to procure herself something to drink."

"By herself, smart," I sighed. "How’d you know? You saw her go?"

"I asked."

"When?"

"Just then."

Right, it keeps slipping my mind that these two do in fact share a telepathic connection to each other. Two minds conveying one another’s feelings and intents without words. Instant. Convenient. Painless, too. So unlike how our average engagements usually play out.

"Shall I go tend to her, Master?"

"No, I’ll go," I said. "You can keep wandering around first while I get us drinks as well. Maybe you’ll find a Ferrari being displayed in the next room or something."

Ash’s eyes brightened; the first time I’ve seen them glimmer like that since we got here. "That would be nice."

"Better get exploring, then," I gave her hand a soft squeeze. "I’ll find you with your drink later."

She went one way and I went the other, attempting to retrace our steps back to the last drink table we passed by. Not particularly sure why I volunteered myself. It’s not like I had to do it, Ash would’ve found her just fine.

Curiosity, perhaps. Reserve and enigmatic as she was, she was just as curious too. And her being a stranger in a strange land, curiosities are plenty to come by. I was the one that brought her here too... pretty much obligated to keep an eye on her.

Sure enough, I found Sera rifling through the entire linen-draped selections. She was standing there motionless, silent, like some violet spectre of the punchbowl, ignoring the poor server behind the table who was shackled to his role to ask only polite queries of her preferences that’ll never be answered.

I went over to lend a hand before the guy could quit on the spot out of sheer discomfort.

"I don’t think you drink any of these," I drew up right next to her, becoming second-in-line to a wide array of branded bottles ready to be made into cocktails and poured into glasses of every shape and size. "Punchbowl’s probably too strong for you too."

Sera refused to budge out of first place, still eyeing the line-up of bottles of every name and color and in the million-billion shimmers that made up their form, I could see them eyeing her back.

"You really want to drink? You sure?" I double-checked with her. "They’re not normal drinks, y’know? It’s not like a milkshake. They’re... different. It probably won’t taste good."

Every single warning I’ve instilled onto her working ears, and yet still her response to it all was but a subtle yet adamant nod.

"Alright, you only got yourself to blame," I turned to the server, the relief plain on his face to see. "Could you please make the lady something light? It’s her first time drinking, and—"

I heard a grumble. A familiar, low grumble. Apparently, I messed up somewhere. But where?

"Do you not want the drink?"

Silent. That’s good. Silence is golden, after all.

"Okay, so we’ll have the guy make you your drink, then—"

There it was again. Aloud like the creak of a squeaky door way, way past after midnight. At this point, I’m sure this guy over here must really be wondering what kind of guests his host was hosting.

"You can’t be saying both yes and no," I said to her. "Come on, give me something here."

The fabric of her hood slowly began to stretch and crease. She turned her gaze towards me—gold, bright and piercing stared back at me in the narrow gap between the shade and her veil. Telepath I may not be, but right then, I felt something click inside.

"You want me to make the drink?

Again, there was silence. And we know what we think of silence, don’t we?

"What? No, I can’t do that. I might be a barista, but I’m not that kind of barista, Sera. ’Sides, I don’t think we’re even allowed to do our drinks."

That’s when our silent observer on the other side of the table stepped back, threw his hands up and gave the universal nod of the all-clear. Awesome. Still doesn’t change the fact I’ve barely any experience with cocktails.

"Sera," I turned back to her, and nothing about her moved an inch. "Seriously?

Oh boy, does this girl seriously think she could just stare me down into submission? Give me that unblinking, eerie look, making a face that I couldn’t even see but know was definitely there and think I’d just fold like that?

The nerve.

The audacity.

The fuck...

I glanced back at the server, wriggling one sleeve after the other up to my elbows. "You got any straws over there?"