Page 37 of A Fae in Finance
Obviously there are no subtitles in life but I felt fairly confident that Matt had intended it as a callback to insults used for homosexuals, and would have spelled it with aY.
Blue Corey elbowed Red Matt. “Sahir, we wanted to talk to you.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack in his pocket and dangled it between his lips.
Around them the indistinct impression of people rushing by; between them the Crone with her web of magic. The illusions crackled at the edges by her fingertips, a glimpse of the Red Knight’s shoulder plate visible where the faux suit splintered into her pinky finger.
Blue Corey lit the cigarette.
I glanced around the room. Like me, the faeries were transfixed. And we all hung suspended in the illusion, the gray of the courtyard extending on into infinity; a cracked, uninhabited pavement on which the wooden tables seemed to hover.
“Of what did you wish to speak?” Sahir was permitted his own voice, it seemed, though the Crone voiced Matt and Corey.
The Crone sagged slightly to the left; the Blue Knight hefted her straight again.
“Where’s Miri?” Blue Corey asked. “We heard there might have been a misunderstanding, and she thinks she needs to stay in Faerie.”
“The lady’s intellectual capacity far surpasses yours,” Sahir said, a surprising note of anger in his voice. “And she has understood well what must be.”
Red Matt let go of the Crone to crack his knuckles. “Miri needs to come back.”
“Clearly not.” Sahir had recovered his composure and clasped his hands behind his back. Red Matt took the Crone’s arm again.
“Clearly, she does,” Red Matt argued. “You twat.” It was certainly something to watch the wizened Crone say the wordsyou twatas the Red Knight mouthed along.
Matt had spent a semester in England, and it showed.
“The lady will remain in Faerie, as is our right. She partook of our fare and slept in our bowers.”
“What are you insinuating about where Miri slept?” Blue Corey snapped, the faerie’s face contorting into a passable imitation of a human’s menacing glare. I felt my own face redden. What sweet, sweet morons. Blue Corey still had the lit cigarette between his lips. I kept looking at it, waiting for him to hold it against Sahir’s wrist.
“I insinuate nothing,” Sahir said, taking another step closer.
And to my utter shock, Blue Corey let go of the Crone and swung a fierce right hook at Sahir’s face. The illusion fractured for a moment, hanging in the air like the shards of ice in a storm. Ifeltthe stillness in the room as everyone stopped breathing.
Corey, really?
Blue Corey stepped back again and took the Crone’s arm. The illusion knit back together, the grays and blacks and fabric and concrete. I wondered how it must look to the faeries, so unlike their brown and green and blue.
Sahir moved too fast for me to see, slamming his fist into Blue Corey’s jaw. The crack sounded real, and Blue Corey recoiled, mouth gaping. The cigarette dropped to the ground.
In the crowd a few faeries cheered.
“Cease,” Sahir said, sliding his hand back to touch the wall next to Blue Corey. “What is done cannot be undone.” The motion was intimate, dangerous. He leaned in close to Blue Corey’s face, their noses nearly touching.
Red Matt stooped next to them, one hand on the floor. Somehow the Red Knight managed not to lose his grip on the Crone.
Blue Corey didn’t flinch from Sahir’s nearness. “What will you do to her?”
“I will do nothing,” Sahir breathed, though by some magic his voice carried through the room. “She is not my responsibility.”
“Then make her your responsibility,” Blue Corey said, his hand coming up to grasp Sahir’s sleeve.
Sahir tried to pull away, but Blue Corey held him.
“Why would I do that?”
“I could go to the press,” Red Matt said, “or HR.”
“Human Resources,” Sahir repeated, incredulously.
