“It’s not?” Rusty asked, and Gem bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “This one?” Rusty pulled the next one off the top of the deck—a red four of cups—and Gem shook his head again. “Shit.”

Now, Toni didn’t like the Pyclon, but even he felt bad as Rusty deflated.

“Was it me?” Gem asked, covering the mic poorly with one hand. “Was it the magic word? Did I fuck it up?”

“No,” Rusty said glumly. “I must have messed up.”

“Oh,” Gem looked absolutely crestfallen as several of his hands reached toward Rusty, as if to comfort him. But he stopped himself short of touching the Pyclon, his hands dropping to his sides as he said, “Do you want me to go sit down?”

Rusty nodded, still glaring at his feet, and Gem fitted the mic back into the holder, cheeks darker than normal, clearly embarrassed on both their behalfs. But before he could step off the stage, Rusty stopped him.

“Actually, before you go, could you check your back pocket?”

For a moment, Gem frowned in confusion, but then his jaw dropped. “No!” he breathed as he patted several hands over his ass, then pulled out a card from his back pocket. “Oh my gods, it’s my card!”

With an ear-splitting shriek, Gem waved the purple three of keys exuberantly. The crowd cheered, and even Toni laughed as Rusty smirked, rubbing a hand through the fur on the back of his head as Gem bounced around, giggling excitedly.

“Rus, that was so smooth! I didn’t even feel it, and these shorts are hella tight,” Gem said, knocking Rusty in the shoulder. The Pyclon’s smirk widened into a small grin.

“It’s called sleight of hand for a reason,” he said gruffly, giving the crowd a tiny bow at Gem’s insistence. Then he waved a blase hand at Gem. “Give it up for my volunteer.”

“Thank you,” Gem gushed as he curtsied over and over. “I know. I was amazing! Thank you so much.”

As a patron, carrying an acoustic guitar, took their place on the stage, Gem shoved Rusty in the shoulder again, sending the Pyclon staggering several steps. “That was impressive.”

“Thanks. So was your”—he huffed—“pizazz?”

“I knew you liked my pizazz,” Gem preened, and Rusty rolled his eyes.

When they made it back to their seats, Glyma and Willow converged on Rusty, praising the trick, and Toni swore the Pyclon was blushing under his fur as he ducked his head and smiled uncomfortably.

“Dude, that was good,” Oliver said, reaching out to pat Rusty’s arm. “You meant to knock over the bottle, didn’t you?”

“Don’t answer that!” Gem said before Rusty could confirm—or deny—the claim. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

“Everyone knows he knocked over the bottle on purpose, so he could slip the card into your pocket,” Toni said dismissively. “It’s not that complicated of a trick.”

“But you didn’t see him do it, did you?” Jude challenged, and Toni scowled down at him. “That’s what makes it a good trick.”

“Not to mention, Rusty just touched my ass in front of a room full of people.” Flipping his hair like a model in a commercial, Gem fluttered his lashes at a Rusty. “That, in and of itself, makes this night memorable.”

“Oh, blech!” Toni gagged obnoxiously as everyone laughed.

Rusty’s face had twisted into one of deep regret and disgust. “I did not touch your ass. I just slipped the card into your pocket while everyone was distracted.”

Gem hummed. “Mmm, still counts.”

With another exasperated huff, Rusty wordlessly held out his hand, and Gem froze. His eyes jumped from Rusty’s hand to his face, then back again, and Toni swore the crests of his gray cheeks darkened again as he slowly, hesitantly placed his upper hand in Rusty’s, curling his fingers around Rusty’s claws.

As one, everyone at their table cocked their heads in bewildered shock as Rusty’s tail went ramrod straight, his eyes widening comically. “What are you doing?” he demanded in a husky growl.

“What areyoudoing?” Gem echoed.

“I want my card back?” Rusty said, and Gem’s face definitely darkened in an embarrassed blush as he released Rusty’s hand like it had burned him.

“I knew that,” he blurted. “I was just joking.”

“What?” Rusty said.