“Hey, thanks for having me over.” Ephemera’s tone was uncharacteristically tired, stuck between a sigh and a grin as he walked in Quince’s front door. “I brought a few things. Just movie snacks and stuff, some soda... but I felt bad mooching, y’know?” He shifted to draw attention to the bag in his arms, which was very neatly packed with small boxes. “I hope you like sour candies, ‘cause I love ‘em.” Truth be told, it was easy to see that half of the packages he’d brought were brightly-colored candy boxes, all brands most popular in Aurora.
☋ Out muses visit a hotspot together (maybe they both end up there since they haven't met yet?)
Club Eisop, despite its popularity, was not Ephemera’s favorite place. Sure, he loved nightlife and clubbing itself, but this large of a place made him feel... well, not boxed in per say, but claustrophobic and stretched thin. Too many people to socialize with, too little time. Too many things happening at once for him to take.
But he’d gone at the behest of a few friends who had promised him all sorts of fun incentives. While it had been fun for the first hour, all the people he knew well had been lost in the crowd, and he was feeling a bit tired. Seeing as the bar was currently the only somewhat calm place in the entire building, he headed there and sat down. It was rare that they carded anyway, and besides, he had a fake id. [Amazing what having friends all over the triad could get you.]
To his relief, he didn’t seem to be the only one exhausted by the flashing lights and noise, as the man sitting next to him looked as if he were having the worst night of his life. Such a shame too, he was cute, and Ephemera always had liked gingers. He would bet a million credits that he’d be more handsome if he smiled. “Hey, this place is a bit much, eh?” He offered a sheepish smile. “Could I buy you a drink?”
The best moment of your life, a drabble under the cut!
Most would believe that Ciggma Khint’s favorite memory is of his graduation day. Proud parents with proud smiles, and a firm handshake as he received his diploma. Head of his class in the Academy, the makings of a perfect defense corp officer. He stood straight with head held high. All of his hard work had paid off and he’d achieved his dream, at long last. How could anything be happier than that?
But no. The best moment is a bitter-sweet one, of a tiny child in the hospital. Her records had her as Lily, but Khint had taken to calling her Amira-- princess in a language that was no longer remembered. He remembered that his father called his mother that, and that he had said that his mother had called his sister the same thing. It was a nickname that stuck and would never go away.
The toddler was sick. She had been sick since the accident that her parents had died in. Lung complications, they said. Too much smoke, too much fire. New lungs, new bionics, that would fix it, but she was too small, too young, and those things cost too much. She would not die. Little Amira was too much of a fighter, and the hospital staff as too skilled for that. But she could not leave. She could not play, or run, or dance as little girls did. She could barely even laugh at times. It broke his heart.
Khint did his best to keep a smile on her face. He brought her movies and sweets, read her bed time stories, and held her when she was upset or overwhelmed. He could not be there all the time, but he did his best, forgoing sleep and food to be by her side.
It was one of those long nights. Amira curled into his side as he read her her favorite, a story about a little ballerina. She was already looking drowsy, he was sure that soon enough, she would fall asleep. Once she did, he could, as he felt himself nodding off as well. “And then... Amira?”
The little girl had put her hand on his, expression as stern as she could make it, despite her sweet features. “No more story.”
Khint was confused, but turned the tablet off and put it away. “And why is that?”
“Because. Gonna sleeps. Daddy’s gotta sleeps too. Daddy’s tired.” She looked resolute in this, snuggling close.
There was a moment of stunned silence. He hadn’t realized that Amira had noticed his fatigue. Moreover...
“...Alright, alright... Daddy’s going to sleep too.”
That was the first time she’d called him her father, at least to his face. He could have cried, had he been any quicker to tears, but he instead settled on a smile, and a kiss to her head. “Good night.”
To say she was flattered was understatement. But she was also very confused. “I... I did?” His face wasn’t familiar to her at all either, so it was safe to assume they’d never met.
“How are the kids doing?”(if Khint has kids in this verse, or if not:) “That doesn’t mean I have the right to brag about it...who am I kidding? Yes it does!”
“Hm?” Khint looked up from his tablet, partially surprised that he was being addressed. Then again, he did know more people than he gave himself credit for. “Amira is doing well, thank you for asking.” He responded, more warmth in his voice than usual. That was always how it was when he mentioned his daughter. “She’s enjoying school. How are you doing, Nate?”
