âI do live here,â they said, if a bit flatly. It was getting a little grating, Valentine mused, at how many people found their presence in the town to be displaced. They supposed they couldnât fault Grace for thinking so. For the longest time, Valentineâs turf had been big cities, brimming with skyscrapers that cut a dramatic silhouette, stretching across the river. âIâve got a more plausible case, at least. My family has lived here for a while. I suppose it was time for me to settle along with them.â Blue Harbor was hardly some rundown town, but compared to London, New York, Chicago, it was a flat blot of long, stretched-out streets, full of local shops where locals huddled accordingly. Flat and green but steady.
They tilted their head slightly at the mention of a new ventureââOh? What venture?â This was precisely the line of work so lost on them, how some people had so much money to give away that theyâd decided to make a living out of it. It was some form of redistributing wealth, they supposed. Her wife had explained the art of venture capitalism once, but their eyes had begun glazing over at the umpteenth mention of securities and exchanges, so they moved to observing her wifeâs features instead, of running their soft nails over her sun-kissed hair, and very soon, there was no talking at allâ
âthey shook their head, willing themselves to draw their attention back to Grace. The sun caught her hair in the right light, and, by God, perhaps they had a type, after all.
âHm, thatâs what my wife always used to say. As far as I recall, that translates to, âIâm a bit fucked.â Sorry for the word.â They let out a peal of laughter, hoping their words were a bit reassuring, âHm, I did alright. And you?â An arch of their brow, a bit in challenge. âI bet youâve found more hearts to break.â
