Cheerful Idiot wipes Graceful Orchid's vomit from his boots.

Posted on Thu May 28th, 2020 @ 3:17am by Black Market Arturo Rosso & Civilian Xiulan Song
Edited on on Sun Jun 14th, 2020 @ 4:26am

Mission: Bright and Shiny things
Location: Deck One, Xiulan's Apartment
Timeline: Current

Arturo woke up not exactly hungover after his evening of drinking and waxing philosophically with Xiulan Song, but he definitely knew he’d been at the grape… or whatever that was they’d been imbibing. He was most of the way through his morning exercise routine before he was really awake, but by the time he climbed into the shower and ate a little something, he felt a lot better. He dressed for the day as he always did, stylishly… if this were Osiris. On Greenleaf Skyplex he looked like something out of a romance novel, but even after just a short while working for Nikolai Udinov, he was earning a reputation as a very dangerous young man.

Xiulan had offered to show him around today. Arturo decided he’d surprise her by just showing up. Normally, when calling on a woman, he’d show up with flowers. But with Xiulan.. Definitely caffeine and sugar! Arturo set off, whistling a jaunty tune, a spring once again in his step as he remembered the previous evening. Stopped by Donuts Czar Us and bought 18 ponchiki. A dozen for Xiulan and six for him (if he was lucky and she scarf them all). He wisely put his six in a separate bag in an effort to keep at least a few for himself.

He found Xiulan’s apartment fairly easily and rang the doorbell, and then waited, goodies and sword cane in hand.

Xiulan required one more ring of the bell before the door would open, which it did slowly, a gaunt and bleary face revealing itself timidly as though deathly afraid of the light, with eyes sagging and bloodshot. Finally, the face was fully revealed to be that of his once beautiful Graceful Orchid, her face framed with a wild tangle of inky tresses. She no longer wore the indigo coat from the night before, but the grey pants were the exact same, and the simple tunic she had worn under the jacket was now stained with a few splashes of something alcoholic, and she smelled like the slightest spark would set her aflame. Groaning as she stepped fully into the doorway, she immediately perked up at the smell of the fresh coffee in Arturo’s hands. She immediately grabbed the cup and started chugging, regardless of the heat of the beverage, and did not stop until the cup was empty. Like magic, her face seemed revitalized and she seemed ready to take on the world.

“Ok, who are you and what do you want?” she asked.

Arturo didn’t know whether to be offended or to laugh in Xiulan’s face. She looked, and smelled, like she’d been in a fight to the death with Bacchus and lost. “Clearly,” he said. “You continued drinking after we parted ways in the early hours of the morning. Should I be offended that you don’t recognize me and storm off in a huff, taking these with me?” Arturo waved Xiulan’s bag of fresh ponchiki under her nose, then snatched it back before she could grab it. “Or are you going to invite me in and we can share them?”

In his old life, before Arturo had a personality… okay, he only had the beginnings of a personality at the moment. It was still a work in progress. But that was beside the point. In his old life, if greeted in such a manner by a woman who looked and smelled like she’d slept in an alley, one who didn’t even recognize him, he’d just make a lame excuse, turn tail, and run. But this was not his old life and the young Free Scholar was trying to be a better person, someone likeable on the inside, as well as the outside.

“Give me a break, I just got to sleep, and I can’t guess who’s outside my door without some kind of clue and all I smelled was coffee,” Xiulan said, then made a second attempt to snatch the bag of doughnuts. Unfortunately, this proved to be the wrong thing to do. It hit with no warning, one second she was reaching, the next she was doubled over retching. Coffee and alcohol and some kind of noodle soup ended up all over the floor. And on Arturo’s boots.

“My bad,” Xiulan said in a quivering voice when the retching finally stopped, steadying herself with a hand on the doorframe as she spit out the last remnants of bile and mucus.

Arturo had been about to kick himself for forgetting Xiulan was blind, but gave himself a pass when Xiulan voided the contents of her stomach (from the volume of blown chunks, it seemed she might have more than one) all over his boots. He almost got angry, but instead of angry words, laughter came out of him. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just… My God, woman, you are a treasure… and a font of vomit, apparently.” He shifted what he was carrying and steadied Xiulan with a free hand. “Here,” he said, gently. “Let me help you.” Good manners required Arturo wipe his boots off before tracking coffee and bile flavored spicy noodle soup (with added mucus) into Xiulan’s apartment. Unfortunately, good manners also dictated that he should keep Xiulan from falling into the puddle of coffee flavored spicy noodle soup (with added mucus) right outside of her door. “Let’s get you sitting down, then I’ll clean off my boots and see what I can do about this mess out here while you rest. You can lean on me. I’ve got you.”

Xiulan made a noncommittal grunting sound and offered no attempt to push him away as he supported her weight to help her stagger into her apartment. Her accommodations were small and spartan, just enough room for a bed and a tiny kitchenette, and the most prominent feature in the space was her computer against the farthest wall. No lights, no color, but music could be heard from a headset on her terminal. As for Xiulan, she was able to make it to her bed without collapsing completely, but she was shaky and her chilled skin had broken out into a clammy sweat, a mild form of shock from such a sudden and explosive evacuation. Finally safe sitting on her bed, she allowed herself to lay down and curl up into a ball on her side.

Arturo, meanwhile, set everything down in the kitchenette to free up his hands. He saw the condition Xiulan was in and was worried. He looked around and found a blanket on the floor. He shook it out and draped it over Xiulan. He sat on the bed near her for a moment and gently brushed the hair out of her face with his fingers. “There, now,” he said. “Rest while I clean up.” After a moment’s hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, then quickly got out of range and cleaned off his boots and whatever he’d tracked inside. There wasn’t a mop in the apartment, so, removing his frock coat and rolling up his sleeves, Arturo cleaned up as much of the vomit outside as best he could, washed his hands, and then returned to check on Xiulan. She seemed to be asleep. The way she was curled up, there was room at the bottom of the bed for Arturo to sit across the bed with his back resting on the wall, which he did. He closed his eyes and catnapped while Xiulan recuperated.

Xiulan didn’t stay curled up for long; within fifteen minutes, she was dead to the world and snoring loudly, her blanket now only covering her midsection as her arms and legs stretched out to claim every viable bit of real estate available on the bed, which included an unceremonious nudge to Arturo’s groin with her heel.

Arturo’s eyes shot open when Xiulan’s foot ‘nudged’ him in the groin. The sudden contact startled him, but the fact that Xiulan’s heel didn’t move away and instead remained pressed against him as she subconsciously flexed and extended her foot in her sleep was worse by far. That didn’t hurt at all, but the way they were tangled up, Arturo couldn’t figure out how to extract himself without waking her up. He was being driven insane. He tried thinking of every kind of sports ball he could imagine, but for some reason he could only bring to mind those that used long, hard, bats. For the life of him, Arturo could not reason out how exactly he’d ended up in this situation or out to get out of it! This woman was unlike any other he’d ever met!

Then the light in his brainpan started working: she’s unlike every woman he’d ever met! This was his answer! Most women were so particular about everything, even sleep, so what if… To test his theory, he grabbed her foot; no reaction. Slowly and carefully he moved the foot out of his lap and managed to slide off the bed where he could no longer be accosted by his slumbering beauty, and then just for the sake of curiosity, he took her hand, raised it as far as it could, then let go, allowing the hand to fall right onto her face. Other than a brief snort and a reshuffle of her body to get more comfortable, her sleep remained undisturbed. Amazing!

Arturo softly chuckled. He thought about waking Xiulan up, but she looked almost beautiful while she slept. Like a smelly, unkempt, hungover vision of loveliness. So he left her sleeping and went into the kitchenette and poking around. He found some broth and some noodles, and some vegetables that he could work with, so he set about making a soup. He gathered from the various toxically hot chili peppers in the cupboards, that Xiulan liked her food hot and spicy. However, Arturo had seen how well that had worked out earlier, so he compromised and put some chili pepper in the broth, but nowhere near as much as she had put in her soup earlier, judging from the smell and the fact that he’d been afraid for a moment or two that her vomit was going to eat through his boots. It was probably neutralized by the highly acidic coffee.

Food was certainly the way to reach this Graceful Orchid’s heart, for as soon as she smelled the savory broth blending with the fresh vegetables, she began to stir from her slumber. By the time the soup was simmered to perfection, her eyes began to flutter open. Xiulan’s brain was a mass of confusing realizations: Who was in her kitchen? Why were they there? Why did she taste coffee? Did she smell ponchiki? Finally, she heard enough of Arturo’s footsteps as she shuffled around to recognize who had invaded her private sanctuary?

“Arturo?” Xiulan said as she came to fully, raising herself up and propped herself on her elbow. “Why are you cooking in my apartment?” she asked, rubbing at her sleep heavy eyes with her free hand.

“Don’t you remember?” Arturo said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “I came here as we discussed. You showed me around, wined and dined me, and convinced me we should get married immediately, which we did. And we had quite the wedding night, let me tell you! You were... fantastic… amazing! So was I, according to you.”

“WHAT?!” Xiulan exclaimed, then groaned. “Ta made, I’m never drinking again…” she moaned, flopping face down on the bed and continued to grumble invectives into her bedding.

Arturo let Xiulan dangle on the hook a bit longer, then relented. “Relax,” Arturo said. “I did come here as we discussed, brought coffee and ponchiki, too. You rewarded this act of kindness by guzzling the coffee before you even knew it was I that brought it, then promptly vomited said coffee, along with whatever hazardous materials you had consumed, all over my boots. I put you to bed, cleaned up, and have made you what I dare say has turned out to be quite a good, if simple, soup. Simple, because I don’t want you to vomit on me again. HOWEVER, you will not get a taste, not a single drop of this lovely, comforting soup until AFTER you have taken off and preferably burned what you are currently wearing, showered, and brushed your teeth. The fumes from the coating of bile on the inside of your mouth at the moment would probably dissolve the bowl before you could enjoy the soup.”

Xiulan raised her head, her face scrunched up in perplexity, then she brought her hand to mouth and exhaled into her palm. She gagged slightly as she confirmed that her breath was quite noxious, then with some grumbling in Cantonese, pulled herself from the bed and trudged off to the washcloset. When she came back out, she was clean and wrapped in a towel, her still damp hair clinging to her shoulders. She tossed her dirty clothes atop the ever growing pile in the corner, then made her way to the table to sit. “Gimme,” she said simply, inhaling the delectable scent of perfectly seasoned soup. Well, not perfectly, she preferred a dollop or two of chili oil to punch it up, but it was most likely a good call on his part that she not have any after getting sick.

Seeing Xiulan wearing only a towel made Arturo’s thoughts feel fuzzy and unclear but he soldiered on. This was yet another challenge for him to meet and the young man felt no doubt that he could rise to the occasion. “Um… of course,” he said. He laddled two bowls full and brought them both, with chopsticks, to the table and set them down. “Chopsticks are to the left of your bowl. All mocking and teasing aside, please don’t eat too fast. You may not remember how ill you were, but I do.”

Xiulan took a moment to warm her hands on the bowl, breathing in and appreciating the scent of the savory broth, then lifted the bowl to her lips for a sip. Oh yeah, good stuff… “So, I seriously blew chunks on you?” she asked warily, then took another sip.

Arturo chuckled. “Excellent turn of phrase,” he said. “And yes, but think nothing of it. I’m just glad I was here when you got sick. You really didn’t look good. I was a bit worried, but once you got into bed and got a blanket over you, the shock quickly subsided and you fell asleep.”

“Oh…” Xiulan said, her bowl once again on the table and the chopsticks in her hand as she idly swirled the vegetables and noodles around the bowl. “Thanks for, uh, looking after me,” she said sheepishly, then proceeded to slurp up a mouthful of noodles.

“It was a pleasure,” Arturo said. So was seeing her like this, though it was incredibly distracting, and at the same time comforting. That Xiulan was so relaxed around him made him feel relaxed… and excited at the same time. “Ah, were you able to resolve the problem you encountered last night when we went our separate ways?”

“Eh, kinda, not really?” Xiulan replied, her brow tight with frustration. “Things kinda went sideways, and… I don’t really wanna get into it, but I lost a valuable contact because of this and I kinda punished myself for it. Didn’t mean for that punishment to spill onto you, literally…” she did her best to explain.

“Think nothing of it,” Arturo said. He reached across the table and touched Xiulan’s hand briefly. “Though perhaps next time you call me and vent your problems to me before you attempt to drink all of the rotgut on the plex. I believe that is, in part, what friends are for?”

Xiulan mulled this over as she slurped noodles. He made a point, it would be nice to be able to vent instead of slowly killing herself with booze, but she couldn’t share what she did! Also but, she didn’t have to tell him what she did in order to vent, right?

“Yeah, I guess so,” Xiulan finally conceded, then dove into her bowl for another slurp. “I’ll send for you next time things go sideways,” she then offered, then leaned back in her chair. Her skin was mostly dry by now, but there were a few beads of water dripping from her hair and racing down her shoulders and chest towards the towel. “So, did you still want that tour, or do you mind if we stay put?” she asked cautiously. She wanted to be a woman of her word and she had promised him a tour, but she felt more than a little knackered and simply wanted to stay where she was.

“You can show me around some other day,” Arturo said. “And if you’ll have me, I would be happy to keep you company. I have the day off and I’d planned to spend it with you. Here or out on the promenade makes no difference to me.”

Xiulan sighed in relief. “Thanks. I guess I’m awake enough to be decent company, but I am way too tired for a tour right now,” she admitted with a lopsided grin. “Although, I don’t know how exciting it’ll be for you to stick around, I don’t have much here… Just a boredom warning, I guess.”

Arturo chuckled. “Song Xiulan,” he said. “You are many things, but boring is not one of them.”

“Well that is somewhat a relief,” Xiulan replied, then pushed her now empty bowl away from her slightly. “Guess I should go put clothes on, unless you have any objections?” she said with a sly grin as she stood up.

“Well I have no objection to you staying as you are,” Arturo said. laughing. “But it would be rude, I suppose, to insist that you do.”

“Damn, thought for sure you’d ask me to hand over my towel,” Xuilan said with a snicker, then headed over to the plain dresser beside her bed to retrieve some clothes, then disappeared into the washcloset to dress in privacy. Despite the lack of vibrancy in any of the colors in her wardrobe, Xiulan did have an affinity for textures; the soft ruggedness of her black cloth shoes, the slubby texture of the raw silk in her pants, the motifs woven into her plum colored jacket, the sheer wispy smoothness of the layered shirt underneath, these all spoke to a person who did have an affinity for nice things, but things that one could not see. She came back out a short while later, dress and hair combed, and she sat at the table idly weaving her damp hair into a loose braid.

“So, what now?” Xiulan asked as she finished the braid and casually tossed it over her shoulder.

Arturo had to admit that, though he was disappointed that Xiulan had chosen to get dressed, she did look good. So that’s what he did.

“I admit,” he said, flashing a winning smile. “I’m disappointed that you chose to get dressed, but you do look lovely.” Then he laughed. “Here I am, trying to dazzle you with a smile. You manage so well that I keep forgetting you’re blind. It reminds me of my Nonna, my grandmother. My cousins and I all knew she was blind. What we made the mistake of assuming was that her blindness would let us get away with misbehaving. It didn’t, if that needs to be said. She was always in tune with her surroundings and knew what was done wrong, when it was done wrong, and who to punish for it. Most of us learned our lesson eventually, albeit numerous sore backsides later.”

“Nah, that’s just that psychic ability parents develop after having a couple of kids,” Xiulan said with a grin. “I didn’t have any extended family myself, but I used to hang out with this group of kids and we’d get into trouble all the time, always thought we were sneakier than we actually were, and Getti’s Nan would tan us raw when we thought we got away clean, she always knew, I don’t know how!” Xiulan laughed at the memory, shaking her head in disbelief at some of the antics she had survived.

“I’m pleased to discover that psychic senior citizens in the family are a universal constant,” Arturo replied. “So, tell me more about young misbehaving Xiulan! Show me yours and I’ll show you mine!”

“Well, I already know that you tried to sleep your way through Osiris nobility, so what else is there to know?” Xiulan asked teasingly, then shrugged, popping up from her chair to make some tea. “As for me, I was young and dumb, tried the whole rebllious thing, didn’t really work out like I hoped it would, but as I understand it, that sort of thing rarely does work… I dunno, I was angry, I guess? Single dad with a blind daughter, I was at the crux of overprotection and exceptionally high standards and it was suffocating. Sneaking out of the temple to get into trouble gave me a moment to breathe, but it was never enough…” Her voice trailed off in a wistful softness as she navigated her cupboards to find the herbs she wanted while her kettle came to a boil. She tried to hide her sigh under the sound of the kettle whistling, then a moment later she came back to the table with a couple cups of a steaming herbal blend. “That’s probably not what you wanted to hear. Sorry, guess my life just isn’t that exciting,” she said as she set a cup before Arturo then sat down across from him to sip gingerly from her own cup.

“Thank you,” Arturo said. “I also had a taskmaster for a father, one who pushed me to excel. I was his only son and he had such high hopes for me. His position had allowed him to make connections. He planned to send me to fine schools in the hopes that I would be successful, perhaps become a merchant, earn the money to buy my way all the way into polite society, or become a physician or surgeon, something that would allow me to marry above our station. As martial arts teachers, my family was respectable, yes. We could teach the children of rich families to fight like gentlemen and gentlewomen and be well paid for it. We could buy fairly nice clothing and talk like our masters and mistresses, but at the end of the day, we were nothing more than the help. My father knew this, and wanted more for me, only…” Arturo hesitated. “I have not much of a head for academics. I can read and write and cipher. I enjoy literature, poetry, and theatre, though my tastes are not always very refined or high brow. I find pleasure in the rhythm of language, but I admit that the meaning of what I’m reading or hearing is frequently lost on me. The one area I excel at is the one area my father hoped I would not pursue: the family business. Once he realized I was destined to be ‘the help’ for the rest of my days, he grew sullen and his disappointment was obvious. And then I humiliated him further through my foolish amorous adventures. I suppose that while he was not always a good father, I was perhaps not a very good son.”

“That much I can relate to,” Xiulan replied with a lopsided grin. “In the grand scheme of things, I was at the opposite end of the spectrum; on Sihnon, we were… I don’t want to say ‘revered’, but the mastery of self and discipline is elevated, so in a way we were both low and high caste at the same time, and I was under the pressure of one day carrying on the traditions of our temple. A lot of pressure… and it was just as sad and lonely as your tale, but not because of our status. I was tutored by my father, it was his way of protecting me and giving me more time to focus on mastering our family’s fighting style. And that’s why I started sneaking out. So like with you, he was not always the best father, and I was not always the best daughter.”

Arturo smiled and held up his tea cup, more for the gesture of toasting and not because he expected Xiulan to see it and clink cups with him. “To flawed parents and their flawed children,” he said, and took a sip of his tea. “So where did you go when you were sneaking out of the house? For me, it was one of two things. I either sneaked off to meet the daughters of the Osiran elite, or I sneaked off to the seedier parts of Osiris, places the less socially acceptable members of my family were known to frequent. I chased women of course, but only those who did not charge me for their company. I couldn’t afford to gamble, and besides, I knew exactly what happened to people who lost more than they came to the table with. That was not for me. I did make a bit of money fighting for people’s entertainment. Mostly grappling and stick fencing, but never with a blade. I didn’t want to kill anyone. As for anything resembling boxing? Well, really now, how could I let anyone damage my lovely face? That would have been a disservice to Osiran women everywhere!” Arturo’s tone of voice was light and playful, making it clear that his humor was self-deprecating. “That and my father would have taken a heavy fighting cane to my backside and legs until they were black and blue if he found out what I was doing. Though, in retrospect, I think he probably knew and considered it mostly harmless youthful exuberance.”

Xiulan snickered. “Mostly I hung out with some street kids, did the usual street kid thing, vandalism, some petty theft, but then sometimes I would sneak away from them to go to underground fight clubs. We’re talking the down and dirty illegal kinds, partly because I wanted to get in some real fighting experience, but also because the more taboo it was the more it excited me. My father never had the need to strike me when I came home bruised and battered, his silence as he tended to me was proof enough of his disappointment. It was weird, the disappointment stung and made me feel so low, but at the same time I was angry; how could he be disappointed, couldn’t he see how capable I was?! Anyway, in addition to mastering our family’s style, I picked up a few fighting techniques from those fight rings, and I never really lost that thrill for the fight, so even now if I hear about a fight, I’m there.”

Arturo slid a hand across the table and held one Xiulan’s hands for a moment. He gently examined it, gliding the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. “Hmmm…” he said. “I’d say you’re telling the truth, and that you heard about a fight recently. What I feel is from more than just the minor dust up a few days ago, and from more than just training, unless you’re punching the hull.”

“Eh, there might be a fight club in the warehouse district that I frequent…” Xiulan said warily. “Actually, there’s several. If you’re interested in throwing a few punches, ask around for Jaye, he’s a dockworker and he runs a clean game, he wants his fighters to be able to walk away, and stay clear of Edgar, his group likes the blood and savagery...” she admitted sheepishly.

“I am becoming familiar with people who revel in blood and savagery,” Arturo said. He was still holding Xiulan’s hand. He mentally shrugged. If she wanted him to release her hand, she’d tell him. Hopefully, she wouldn’t tell him to get out in the same breath… or even the next breath… or the one after that, really… “I will take your advice to heart. I do need somewhere to practice Abrazare and Pancratium. Those aren’t exotic meats or cheeses, by the way. Abrazare is a grappling style going back to Renaissance Italy on Earth That Was and Pancratium goes as far back as Ancient Rome… “ Arturo smiled wistfully. “That is one thing I will always be grateful for. My family kept some of our history and culture from before.” Arturo regarded Xiulan a moment. “You handled yourself very well in that fight at the doughnut shop. I would be honored, Xiulan, if you would teach me some of what your family taught you. In return, I would be happy to share what I know of my family’s arts with you. That might be a nice way for us to get to know each other better… and you’d get to hit me if I tell a bad joke or, perish the thought, say something nice about you.” Arturo’s tone was once again light and playful.

Xiulan chuckled. “Eh, your sense of humor is growing on me,” she said, then casually drew her hand back to once again lift her cup of tea to her lips for a sip. “As for trading fighting styles, I’m game; I was raised to one day be a teacher, so I guess you would be my first pupil, kinda.”

“It would be my honor, Song Sifu,” Arturo said in a formal tone, one that a student would use with a master. “And my privilege.” He sipped his tea. “So, that absolutely terrifying woman who practically threatened to geld me if my intentions were dishonorable, she called you Meimei, little sister. You are clearly not related by blood. May I know the story there? If you don’t mind telling me?”

“I don’t mind,” Xiulan answered with an easy going grin. “When we fled our temple, we left Sihnon for Londinium, and with help from a former student there, we were able to get on a colony ship bound for the Rim, as well as an escort to ensure our safety. Mack was that escort. She was just starting anew too, so she stuck with us after her job was completed and became like family to us. And she absolutely will geld you if she thinks you’ll do me wrong,” she assured her soon to be student.

Arturo grinned mischievously. “Then I will make every effort to… do you correctly,” he said, the twinkle in his eye evident in his voice. “I’ve asked around about her. She has quite the reputation in the colonies. I’ve no intention of crossing blades with the famed Mack the Knife if I can avoid doing so. Not that I need a reason to treat you well. That I would and will do often and of my own free will.”

“Well that’s no fun! What if I’m attracted to the naughty ones?” Xiulan countered playfully, not being entirely truthful; the naughty ones were a lot of fun, but she wasn’t so much attracted to them as much as the trouble she could get into by proxy, and to be more precise, she wasn’t really looking to be attracted by anyone at all… But she couldn’t help but tease this poor man who was doing his level best to be a good person.

Arturo grinned. “I didn’t say I wasn’t naughty,” he said. “Only that I would treat you well.”

“Damn, that’s smooth,” Xiulan said with an approving chuckle, then finished off her tea. She continued to hold the cup within her hands on the table for a moment, then eventually spoke up again. “So, uh, thanks again for looking after me, and, uh, sorry for pukin’ on you. Hope I didn’t ruin your boots.”

Arturo shrugged. “My clothing looks less practical than it is,” he said. “My boots will survive your vomit.” He wondered if he should go. He’d monopolized most of her afternoon, not counting the part she’d slept through. The young man bit back a sigh. He enjoyed Xiulan’s company, but crowding her wasn’t going to win him any favors. “I’ve taken up quite a bit of your time. Perhaps I should take my leave? We could get together tomorrow, or later in the week if that’s better for you.”

“Yeah, I’ll send you a wave when I’m free to show you around, and I’ll even introduce you to my brawlin’ buddies,” Xiulan replied with a nod and a lopsided grin. Odd, it was almost like she was looking forward to their next meeting...

Arturo reciprocated with an equally goofy grin, which Xiulan couldn’t see, but he didn’t care. He was happy, reassured somehow. He felt like she really did want to see him again. “Alright then,” he said. “The rest of that soup is in a container in your cooler. There are a few more servings of it and should be good for several days.” As he spoke, Arturo fixed his shirtsleeves, shrugged into his coat, put on his hat, and picked up his sword cane. “This was an enjoyable afternoon, Xiulan. I look forward to seeing you again. Until then, good afternoon.”

“Hopefully I don’t puke on you again,” Xiulan said awkwardly, then as soon as Arturo had shown himself out and she heard the door close, she slammed her head on the table with an audible thunk, the full weight of her embarrassment finally hitting her. ‘Hopefully I don’t puke on you again’, how lame was that?!?