Private Finished Harmless Fun

Even before the shouting had risen in volume, one small and mothish fae had his sharp ears aprick and attuned to the conversation.

Fenn leaned out from his bar stool, the light buzz of his wings keeping his precarious balance in check. He understood the youth’s dilemma. Either she really was older than she looked, like him, and was suffering for it, or else she’d just gotten a little excited about trying the hard stuff sooner than she was legally allowed. It wasn’t really something he had room to fault her for. He’d had his first taste of alcohol when he was about fourteen, chronologically speaking.

Maybe he should help her out. If not to be a good bad Samaritan, then because the raised voices made his head ring.

This was going to be fun. There was always a thrill associated with skirting past the rules, wasn’t there? Grinning, the tykish fae slipped the silvery MSG bracelet off his arm, and, staring hard at it, he flicked his hand. Snowflakes swirled around his wrist as a Glamoured version of the bracelet coalesced where the real one had just been.

Perfect.

After downing the last of his ale, Fenn slid off his stool and hovered over to the two heated arguers. “Sir?” he interrupted — speaking a lot more politely than he usually did. “I actually have something to hand to this young lady. It’s hers.”

And technically, to be made so by the physical action of handing it over to her, this would be true. It was hers. Temporarily. Obviously, Fenn’d want it back before he headed home for the night, but for now… best to make the tender think it was something she had misplaced, and he had found. The fae flashed the bracelet at him and gave it to the youth with a naught but a smug flick of his wings to betray his deception.

Fenn startled a bit at the prodding, wings flaring out and antennae jerking up. His puffy coat crinkled at the touch; he could feel the baggies hidden in it shift.

It was a fair question she’d asked of him. “Faerie,” he admitted with a shrug, smoothing down his fluff after his jolt. She was the touchy-touchy hands-have-little-boundaries sort, wasn’t she? “Winter-affiliated, solitary, and a little unseelie. Dunno how much you’d know about us. But if you know enough to fear, then I guess I gotta reassure you by saying I ain’t the most traditional of our kind.”

Not that Fenn was much to fear, visibly speaking.

He watched her down her drink, and wondered if he should order himself another. Maybe it was best to let the bartender forget about them for a little bit, though. “I might ask you what you are too, considering what island we’re on, and ask after what you’re doing sneaking into a bar underage as well. Maybe round it out by inquiring ‘bout your name too. You can call me Fenn.”

His wings fluttered nervously as the girl leaned in. From the “oooh, faerie!” reaction, Fenn figured she wasn’t very familiar with the traditional fae. So long as she didn’t run into any scary ones, that was probably for the better anyway. Peace of mind and all that. Somehow though, he wasn’t so sure about her ordinariness. Normies, in Fenn’s limited experience, were as rare as rooster teeth on this island. But that was her business, wasn’t it?

“Won’t lose me sleep none,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I was up to the same stuff at your age. In a more dangerous environment, even. Figure you ain’t gonna bang yourself up too badly.”

A part of him — the little bit that still threaded all the way back over the seas and over to the Underground — wondered what all she was willing to try for the sheer thrill of it. He’d brought some of the new stuff with him. Fenn’s hands flitted to his pockets. Welp. Even in new places, old habits thrived, like weeds transferee to new soil. No need to rush it though. He still smarted from the night he’d met Madison and her “nah”.

“You seem an adventurous sort, then. What else do you get up to?”

”Tck! Baby?” Fenn squeaked indignantly. His cheeks puffed out in irritation — a childish expression that didn’t really help his case. “Human years are dog years, compared to immortal lifespans. I’m like, almost thirty, chronologically speaking, so you gotta be about half my age. I’m an adult.”

More or less. Honestly, in terms of maturity, Fenn couldn’t fully place himself. Looking like a child got you treated like a child, and that tended to mess with one’s sense of self-perception.

After he was done lodging his protest, the fae piped down, listening to Evie as she implied that she styled herself a rebel, as many teenagers were wont to do. He found himself smiling. Genuinely. Her bubbly nature was a little infectious, especially considering that Fenn’d had a couple mugs already before she showed up. It helped him relax. And if his initial success in bailing her meant anything, it was liquid cockiness too.

“First time I’ve met someone else who isn’t here entirely of their own volition. Or at least, first time someone’s let it slip,” he admitted.

...didn’t that bring up new questions, though?

“You have to be careful with your words.” Fenn flashed a sharp-toothed grin. “Might trip over them if you don’t pay attention to what you’ve already put down. I thought maybe you were born here or something, but it sounds like you’re from somewhere else, which is funny. If you’re just a normie, then why’d anyone insist you gotta be here?”