Page 60 of Marked by the Demigod

A surprised laugh bursts out of Aimes. "God. What a disaster."

They walk, arm in arm, through the hotel and casino, and out to the midday Strip. It's brutal, with the air hitting them like a convection oven and the harsh wind immediately fucking with all of Aimes's curls and...and so many people are pausing and looking at Aimes.

In a small, fucked up way, it makes sense that Vegas would have a draw of people who could tell. But it's enough that Trixie instinctively shifts closer to her as they walk down the Strip.

"Man," she says, voice a bit soft. "Your cleavage must be amazing if this is the attention you're getting."

After Dave's warning, Aimes squares her shoulders. "The heat must be getting to them, it'll die down once it’s night and all the young slutty girls come out of hiding."

"We can be some of the young slutty girls."

"I sure hope we can."

Her phone buzzes, and she lets go of Trixie's arm to dig through her purse.

KATYA GOVERNMENT (3:12 PM): Are you in Vegas? Or is there someone else I need to be worried about all the sudden?

Aimes raises an eyebrow at her phone.

AIMES (3:12 PM): Are you tracking me?

KATYA GOVERNMENT (3:13 PM): No, I had someone report a woman with curly brown hair who's a bonded mate walking down the Strip. I wanted to check.

Aimes glances around her, quick. Trixie has stopped in front of a sunglass booth and is studiously inspecting them.

AIMES (3:15 PM): Girls weekend with Trixie. A lot of not normal people here?

KATYA (3:15 PM): Biggest population center outside of New York and LA. Be careful.

Aimes shoves her phone into her purse and drags Trixie away before she buys something way too overpriced.

* * *

They spend far too longat the buffet, eating all the little oddities and trying all the weird dishes, gossiping.

Afterwards, she lets Trixie pull her into the hookah lounge, with its dim lighting and the puffs of fragrant steam everywhere.

Aimes's never been a huge fan, but she shrugs and takes in the apple-scented air. Something different. Doing something different yet something so normal soothes as much as the smoke burns down her throat.

Trixie's in her element, sitting back and getting pretty much all of the attention from normal men. They end up sitting with a collection of international students who seem utterly charmed by the fake cowgirl appeal, and Aimes lets her mind wander.

The not-smoke bites deep back into her throat, as Trixie lights up a small briquette of coal and stuffs in something she swears will taste like tropical fruits. "Convention that bad?"

The international students look moderately bummed that she's not paying them any more attention.

Aimes blinks for a second. "A librarian there was super dire, just thinking about it."

"How can a librarian be dire? It's a library, they're not supposed to be dire." Trixie crinkles her nose.

And it's like she's missing such a huge part of what libraries do that Aimes just sighs.

"There was a huge thing about FBI visits, it was drama, don't worry." She pulls out of her ass. Well, not entirely out of her ass, that was covered in the convention, but...they weren't dire about it. They dealt with it like any librarian did, with calm conviction and raised eyebrows.

"Please tell me there's always librarian drama, that sounds like the most entertaining thing," she says, dry. "Right up there with Kristopher talking about paperwork legality." She offers the hookah hose to her.

Aimes takes it, her mind racing despite the relaxed area. "It has a lot to do with people looking up questionable material, and whether that's cause for arrest. And libraries can't report that the FBI's been there to see, so...a lot of people want to get around that. It's a thing."

Trixie settles back, rolling her eyes. "Those parties must be a delight."

---