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With the edge of summer creeping around the corner, the day is objectively beautiful, the sun high in the sky and warming the ground enough for the flowers to poke their heads out from the dirt. Perfect conditions for a post-lunch workout, maybe some weightlifting or a jog considering the scenery is just that little bit prettier than it had been yesterday. Perhaps he could even ask his dormmates for a round of magical shift, all sand and sweat and reeking of a season that paints the world gold and green. Then again with Leona’s afternoon nap fast approaching chances are slim. It doesn’t matter though because there’s business Jack needs to take care of before he can think of all the better ways he could be spending his day.
Bad business. The worst kind.
“Azul Ashengrotto,” He says, as much of an acknowledgment as greeting as the smaller boy approaches with the grandeur of a con-artist, all confident and pleasant and dressed for the kill.
“What a surprise!” Azul laughs, the sound fluid and rich, “I thought you wanted as little as possible to do with your – how did you put it again? Cowardly, I believe – dorm head, yet you spit my name with just as much distaste as him.” Another two steps and he stands in front of Jack, a comfortable smile Jack knows not to trust painted on his lips.
“How have you been, Jack?”
The wind is little more than a breeze, toying with the tips of Jack’s hair and making his ears twitch. He could feel it amplified if he were on the track field now, synthetic rubber underneath his feet and the whole world in front of him. Perfect conditions to push his limits, see if he can jump farther, run faster, navigate the obstacle course better than last time.
But even days where he feels like he could beat Deuce’s record on the 100 meter sprint can easily be ruined by bad company.
The worst company.
The swish back and forth of his tail turns lazy. “I’d be better if I could go for a run right now.”
The smile stays on Azul’s face and Jack hates how he cannot read the meaning behind it. It could be good natured amusement or calculated cruelty or entirely fake and Jack would be none the wiser. It’s borderline uncanny, the way Azul hums a perfectly neutral sound, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly.
“The weather truly is exceptionally beautiful today,” Azul says, still friendly, still unreadable, “It’s a pity you volunteered to offer your services to Mostro Lounge today of all days. But not to worry, we shall be quick. I do so hate unnecessarily wasting precious time. If things go smoothly we should return in time for you to get some exercise in before dinner.”
Jack’s tail halts behind his back. “I didn’t volunteer for anything,” He says, putting on his best scowl in an attempt to make Azul understand that helping him is so far down the list of things he even remotely wants to do it’s laughable, “Ruggie-senpai sprained his ankle during morning practice.”
“He always performs well during magical shift.” Azul muses, tone light, as if they were still talking about the weather and not discussing an injured schoolmate.
“His athletic ability is outstanding among his peers. I doubt anyone else could make hanging from their broom by holding on with their feet look as stable as he does.” His tone changes then and maybe it’s admiration or maybe it’s jealousy but Jack finds himself unable to read the ebb and flow of a voice that is equal parts lie and song. Still, Azul continues, unbothered by the twitch of Jack’s tail. “Though I suppose accidents are bound to happen sooner rather than later. Quite frankly, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already, but hyenas are a sturdy bunch. It will take a lot more than a sprained ankle to get rid of someone like him.” Azul talks casually, like he’s familiar with all the details of today’s morning practice even though Jack doesn’t recall anyone spreading word beyond the reaches of Savanaclaw.
That smile hasn’t faded, and Jack still doesn’t know its true intention but it shifts ever so slightly when Azul lets his eyes fall closed, a second longer than probably necessary, a gesture Jack knows is used to make animals feel comfortable around you but he has heard stories and seen fragments, both big and small. If anything, Azul resembles an overgrown cat to him, undecided on playing nice or sinking its claws into you.
There is no show of teeth when Azul continues, “It’s very kind of you to have offered filling in for his shift at Mostro Lounge.”
Jack’s ears flatten, another scowl finding its way onto his face. “It wasn’t much of a choice,” He huffs, crossing his arms in a blatant display of dominance, finding comfort in the way Azul needs to look up to meet his eyes. A flex of powerful muscle underneath terracotta skin and a glare as cold as the first snow should do the trick. “You’d only run Ruggie-senpai to the bone in order to make up for one measly missed shift the next time you see him.”
If Azul notices Jack standing taller, shoulders more squared and jaw set, then he doesn’t show it, doesn’t even blink or shift his weight. Disinterest is not something Jack is used to, Savanaclaw always bearing its teeth at the first signs of power, harsh and brutal as it is, and the unrelenting winters in his hometown demanding attention before the last leaf has fallen. But Azul seems to be just that – unbothered, content to simply be here and let Jack show off the fruits of years’ worth of diligent training if that’s what it takes to make things run smoothly.
Now that he finds himself on the other side of that all-knowing smile part of him begins to understand why some of the farmer’s team were so shellshocked back during Bean’s Day as soon as Azul gave the sign for their imminent demise in the form of a quirk of his lips.
“I thought you hated wasting time,” Jack says, trailing his eyes away from that wretched smile, “We should go if you want to make true on me getting in another workout today.”
“Of course,” Azul says, taking two confident strides past Jack and towards the gate marking the entrance to Night Raven College, “I’ve been waiting for you to say the word.”
His ears give an instinctual twitch of distrust at so much as the thought of letting Azul out of his sights so it bothers a carnal part of him when Azul doesn’t seem to share the sentiment, openly turning his back towards Jack as he begins the routine trek of a supply run into town. If Jack’s tail stands taut at his back then that’s an entirely unrelated matter.
Distinctly he’s reminded of Bean’s Day, once again finding himself following Azul’s lead, no matter how much he fights it, being ordered around like a pup on a leash.
“How did you even get permission to leave campus?” Jack asks to break the silence between them, two seconds enough to make the hair at the nape of his neck stand straight with eeriness when he normally prefers to avoid useless chatter. “On a school day no less. Must’ve been one hell of another crooked deal of yours.”
The first step out the gate reveals a beautiful view of the town, all glittering water and apple-red roof tiling, a fifty meter drop marking the beginning of a cliffside-lined trail towards its center.
“You think so little of me.” Azul gives a low chuckle, the sound amplified by the great nothing in front of them, around them, just a step to the left. There’s something strange in the way he walks, too fluid, like wind or water, as if his body demanded to move with some sort of current Jack can neither feel nor see. It’s unsettling, Azul’s movements just a little off, familiar yet foreign – snow in summer, puddles of water in the desert.
A predator acting as prey.
“Mostro Lounge is a business beneficial both to the students of Octavinelle as well as Night Raven College as a whole.” Azul explains, one hand on his chest in mock-humbleness, “One might even call it a joint business venture, if you will. It’s in Crowley’s own best interest to allow supply runs off campus. After all, not even he can afford the prices Sam likes to charge.”
“Ramshackle’s prefect told me all about how you got your hands on that shady business of yours,” Jack remarks, a growl rumbling inside his chest at the memory of sea anemones and the well-guarded outside of a museum, “Hardly a very fair foundation you built it on.”
“My, so you’d completely trust the opinion of someone who’s only heard stories about my acquisition of Mostro Lounge rather than inquire the source itself?” Azul hums though his voice doesn’t betray any hint of anger or hurt. Perhaps he sounds amused though what about this whole situation could appear to him as amusing is beyond Jack. “Intel is always best from the source itself. At some point the details will get messed up so second-hand accounts are to be enjoyed with a grain of salt, those of a third-hand party even more so, though I assure you, I’ve done nothing but follow the rules, even if you seem quite intent I don’t.”
Jack huffs. “It’s because I know you don’t.”
“Do you now?” Azul asks, losing none of the nonchalance in his voice though there’s a strange sharpness to it now, like a wave beginning to build up, sure to reach a cusp worthy of breaking but not quite there yet, still curled and sparkling in the sun, ready to tear through the air and shatter the surface. “Apologies, Jack, but I hardly think you’re someone who gets to talk to me about fairness. After all, I always uphold my part of the contract. Whether or not people read the fine print is out of my hand. But if I do remember correctly, you were quite happily helping the other first years and your dorm leader rip the contracts that I’ve fairly acquired to shreds. Perhaps if you’d-”
“You were running them ragged.” Jack interrupts, his ears tipping forward until they’re almost flat against his head at the memory alone, saline and brackish and disgusting, “They were dead on their feet every time I saw them.”
A growl tears itself from his throat, unintentional yet no less deep as it reverberates first in his chest, then through the thin air between them. Azul takes a careful step to avoid stepping on a lone, dried-out branch lying in the way but gives no reaction otherwise.
“What a curious thing to say,” Azul muses, his motion fluid in a way it should be impossible, “In doing so I would have not only lost precious staff during a time where Mostro Lounge was already struggling in keeping up with the demand but also reflected horribly upon mine and my establishment’s reputation. I, by no means, ever would have put them through anything they couldn’t reasonably have handled.”
They reach the mountain’s edge, the stone of the trail turning into packed dirt, the sounds of their steps muffled by the grass, Azul two feet in front of him. It’s even harder to get a read on him when Azul isn’t facing him, the comfortableness he carries himself with grinding on Jack’s nerves, as if turning his back towards him was a smart idea, as if Jack didn’t pose as a threat. His ears give another twitch. The smile in Azul’s voice is as audible as it’s fake when he adds, “I simply pushed them to their limits and showed them that they could go beyond them without breaking. I thought you of all people could appreciate such a thing.”
“Appreciate it?” Jack growls, the sound nothing but a low rumble in his chest, “You made them do your dirty work. For someone as charitable as you claim to be they sure got the short end of the deal.”
“My, Jack, but they knew what they were getting into.” Azul hums, the amusement in his voice evident, “After all, they signed the contract.”
“Contract or not, there are lines one doesn’t cross.” Jack argues, his voice rougher, raw, “It’s not even about decency. It’s about morale but I suppose some people have the backbone of a chewed-out dog toy. Riddle, Leona and you just pretend to be blind to everything going on around you, so caught up in your own little world.”
“Are we now?” Azul asks, the sound of the ocean ringing in Jack’s ears, sea-salt making the skin underneath his fingernails crawl. “I believe that in each of our cases, someone else crossed that line first.” Azul says simply. He doesn’t turn around when he adds, “That includes you.”
“How have I crossed a line?” Jack almost spits, an insulted sound that comes straight from his ribcage tearing itself from his lips.
They’re closer now, Jack instinctively having taken a step closer at the sudden affront. It’s a reflex, nothing but instinct but Jack once again finds himself standing straighter, knees bent just enough he’s not losing any height, the scowl seemingly perpetually etched onto his face. Like this he can see the outline of that awful smile, too calm to be anything but menacing.
“Ramshackle’s prefect agreed to the contract.” He says easily, seafoam-colored hair swaying gently in the wind and curling around his chin, hiding his features from Jack’s glare, “You believe I keep such tight leashes on Jade and Floyd but eels can’t be kept in a tank as pets. They’ll eat anything that fits in their mouths – crabs, mackerels, sea urchins. Not even eight arms are enough to keep them in check. I’m sure you understand.” The wind turns, changing the tides, Azul’s lips curling upwards as comfortable pleasantry grows a teasing edge, a hint of cruelty tinting his lips, “After all, even despite your best efforts the lion you keep as company still bit you and everyone around him.”
“That wasn’t my fault.” Jack snarls. What comes out is so close to a bark he has to bite the inside of his mouth, gather all the words on the tip of his tongue and swallow them down as soon as they pass the first seaside townhouse. “I’ve done everything I could but lions, much like wolves, can’t be tamed. There’s nothing I could have done differently.”
“Naturally,” Azul agrees, his step light, calculating, off, “One can take a wild thing out of the wild but never the wild out of a wild thing.” His eyes narrow at Jack, some sort of twisted amusement reflected in irises the color of the sky, “We’ve seen as much during beanfest.”
“I didn’t do your bidding!” Jack snaps, his words full of bile and disgust at the memory of a day spent glued to Azul’s side, a sharp tongue holding him on a leash so tight it made it difficult to breathe, “I simply did what was best.”
Azul lets out a chuckle, low and soft before he takes a right and leads Jack farther into town, “After I told you the best course of action.”
Jack’s scowl returns tenfold.
“We only joined forces out of necessity,” He growls, aggravation making every hair on his body stand tall, “I’d never voluntarily team up with a shady cephalopunk like you.”
Another laugh, this time laced with venom though Azul doesn’t grace him with another look.
“Did you learn that term from Leona?” He asks, his reflection dancing on the surface of the water lining near every street, the ocean now a constant around them, loud and lazy and sparkling deceptively pretty, “The two of you really are too much alike.”
“Don’t compare me to him.” Jack sneers, caught somewhere between offended and plain angry. There was little Leona and him have in common, perhaps even nothing at all, save for the color of their soul – a truth Jack had to learn the hard way.
“What he did was cowardly.” He adds, frustration and irritation and all the confusion Leona makes him feel bubbling up into one pile of something akin to anger, “It was pitiful. It was unjustified.”
“Whether what Leona did was justified or not is not up to you to decide.” Azul interjects before Jack can push out the last word fully, his tone not necessarily sharper but the air around them suddenly dangerous, something stirring within the depths of the ocean, “You have no horse in this race.”
The water underneath the bridge splashes against the shore, slow, steady, unrelenting. The undeniable smell of seaweed and ocean floor stuffs itself into Jack’s nose, clinging to the back of his throat and making its way into his lungs. Every breath is humid, sea salt on his tongue, water at his feet.
A sharp click of Azul’s tongue makes his ears snap forward.
“I did-” Jack begins again but Azul cuts him off once more, the effortless smoothness of his voice finally breaking until it resembles what Jack vaguely registers to be something along the lines of rage.
“Do not speak of justice to me,” Azul snaps, the water’s surface bubbling, breaking, “In fact, do not speak of justice at all, Jack, or do you simply not see the irony of it when out of the two of you, Leona is the one who’s been fighting for justice since before the carriage spared you so much as a thought?”
The words are pushed through his nose, all irritation and annoyance as he continues with a huff that’s barely above audible, “Honestly, you meatheads never think beyond yourselves, it’s infuriating. You cannot respect me for finding loopholes for the rules to fall between yet you also refuse to acknowledge good old fashioned payback like Leona did during the interdorm magical shift tournament. Some ill-minded people might call that ignorant.”
Jack’s ears flatten against his skull. “I’m not ignorant.”
“And yet you try to wrench your way out of any situation with brawn, completely disregarding to even think about the bigger picture.” Azul sighs, one hand coming upwards to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the motion obscuring his face for a moment, “I know you’re better than this, Jack. You proved you’re capable of strategic thinking during Bean’s Day. Why do you refuse to play smart so much?”
“Play smart?” Jack echoes, somewhere between a growl and snarl that fails to make the fine hair at the nape of Azul’s neck stand on edge, “Nothing about what you did was ‘playing smart.’ All you did was scam everyone out of their magic. Don’t act like you’re above me just because I prefer to use my muscles. Nothing about a contest of strength is cheap.”
“This is not a fight club, Jack.” Azul says with a shake of his head, none of his words reaching Jack the way he wants them to, “Your brawn will never win you the war.”
“I’ve never lost a fight!” Jack snaps, angry at the mere possibility of someone like Azul thinking of him as someone to be easily disposed of, someone weak. It’s the one certainty of his life, Jack is strong. Strong enough to power through anything. It simply is a fact, clear as day even from underneath the surface. Azul has to understand that.
“Indeed,” Azul agrees, the wind still carding through his hair, making it sway in the midday sun, the ebb and flow of the ocean dancing where soft jawline dips into a silver-coated throat, “You’ve been in many fights and battles but you have yet to experience a true war.”
Something in Azul’s eyes has changed when a gloved hand drops down to rest at his side, a complex slew of emotions swirling in sky blue eyes that Jack can’t make any sense of. It lasts barely longer than a second, nothing more than a fracture of a moment, the world standing still before the wave breaks and tears everything apart.
The next time Azul looks at Jack he’s returned to normal, pretentious and inviting and friendly. Corruption lurking in the seafoam-colored specks of his irises.
“We’re here.”
Jack blinks. He hasn’t even noticed beige-white houses growing closer, surrounding them until every street looks the same, all mismatched paving and painted window frames, a thin stream of brackish water lazily moving right where road dips into what little of the ocean could be tamed.
They’re close to the harbor on the eastern side of the island, stood in front of one of the many indiscernible terracotta red roofed houses making up the town. The house spans two stories but is as mundane as ever, cream white walls made of a plaster that resembles sea salt in its graininess. Sage’s Island is everything that borders on ordinary with a slight tilt to the senseless – asymmetrical symmetry, a linear city broadening its borders, facing ocean and forest and mountains and lakes and cliffsides alike only to settle into a comfortable rhythm of everyday life, all sunwarmed ground and neighborhood chatter, none of their fast-paced mess of a schoolyear having spilled past Night Raven’s walls.
The air is warm when Jack inhales, full of the life and easiness he knows from his hometown, welcoming and friendly and honest.
“Do try to get rid of that scowl, will you?” Azul sighs, pulling Jack back to reality with another shake of his head, “You’re scaring everyone and while I do love a good intimidation, this is hardly the time and place for it.”
Jack almost argues that he isn’t scowling but he can feel the corners of his mouth and how they’re turned downwards. He remembers Vil chiding him for constantly frowning, claiming the expression will last if he puts it on for too long but at this point it’s almost a reflex. A thought and a scowl, Night Raven and a glare, Svannaclaw and a dirty look, Leona and the crushing weight of a letdown.
Maybe the expression really will last if he spends another minute with Azul, just another reminder of all the frustration condensed inside old castle walls.
Azul pulls his pen from his pocket and taps his palm with the stone at its end. The smell of magic is familiar but it’s different than the devastating heat and strength of his dorm. It’s like the air turns liquid, laps at his skin and envelops him in a watery embrace until there’s water in his lungs and he no longer knows how to breathe.
Then it’s gone and Azul’s pen disappears into his pocket with one swift motion. A gloved hand extends towards him. Jack’s scowl deepens, eyeing Azul’s open hand with a skeptical look – the black and white striped tie neatly lying across it even more so.
“Put this on,” Azul orders when Jack just keeps blinking at the tie as if it had personally offended him, “We’re here for business and I expect you to look the part too. Appearance is half the battle, and Mostro Lounge won’t stand for anything other than pristine when it comes to our precious associates.”
“Right,” Jack says, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. This, of all things, is the one thing he hoped he could avoid. It’s no use though. Azul’s the one he’s talking to and he’d see through Jack even if he told his best lie.
If only lying came as easy to him as the honesty to Sage’s Island. “You see …” And he really doesn’t want to admit it but Azul is entirely incapable of pity or decency or even a little semblance of empathy. A polished dress shoe taps against the pavement impatiently.
Another rub against the fine hair at the nape of his neck and the tapping stops.
“Don’t tell me,” Azul says, his voice the exact middle ground of irritation and amused teasing, “Could it be you chose not to wear a tie because you don’t know how to?”
Jack is fully prepared for laughter, perhaps even for Azul to use his childish incompetence as an opportunity for a contract but to his surprise the mocking never comes. Instead, Azul gives a small sigh and takes a step closer.
He needs to step on his toes to loop the tie around Jack’s neck but he’s just the right height to work without any difficulty, deft fingers moving swiftly and precise, reminding Jack of Vil whenever he makes some last-minute fixes on his or Epel’s ceremonial robe because neither of them knows how to tie a proper knot.
It takes all of his effort not to simply step away and claim he doesn’t need any help but then he’d have to work out how to tie a tie on his own and with Azul’s watchful gaze scrutinizing him there’s no way he wouldn’t embarrass himself more than he already has. So much for his so-called pride.
Leona and Ruggie are going to have a field day if they ever find out about this. He’ll need to lose the tie before he steps foot into Savannaclaw – better yet, Night Raven. Otherwise, there’s no living this down.
“There,” Azul hums after no time at all, pulling the tie tight before he takes a step back to admire his handiwork and finding it delightfully satisfactory, “Take this as gratitude for taking over Ruggie’s shift. No payment required.”
The scowl returns.
“Isn’t this just part of another scheme?” Jack huffs, replaying a longwinded lecture from Ruggie and Leona after he’d teamed up with Azul during Beanfest, “Luring someone in with kindness and before they know it, they’re in the deep end and can no longer see the shore?”
The smile on Azul’s face turns sharper. “Let’s not make our dear business partner wait any longer,” He says, amusement lacing his words, his tone just one step away from a song, “Octavinelle also does not stand for tardiness. As its prefect, I must lead by example.”
Another step and Azul stands on the two steps leading up to the main entrance, his feet slotting into dark groves from years of use perfectly.
“After you.”
Azul’s voice is smooth and melodic as he goes over future plans and stocks and everything Jack doesn’t even pretend to understand. It’s also entirely fake, each word grating on Jack’s nerves as though a banshee were screeching directly into his ears and making his toenails curl.
Instead of focusing on the conversation at hand Jack simply stands to the side, eyeing aisles upon aisles of fish and seafood lying on a bed of salted ice cubes. They’re all dead and as much reflects in their eyes, blackish grey and no sign of light behind them. Then again, fish tend to look like that, weird, creepy, so completely different from anything that lives on land it makes it impossible to believe there ever will be a common ground between sea and land.
The sound of Azul’s voice echoes in his brain again, but it’s not the current Azul spewing his musings about profitable business ventures that occupies his mind. It’s the one from twenty minutes ago, telling him he’s ignorant, telling him Leona understands justice better than he does, better than anyone else too.
Jack can’t find the right word for it. Absurdity? Ridiculousness? Silliness? Downright lunacy? Probably the latter because no matter how Jack spins it he can’t find a single version where he sees himself admitting Leona had been right all along.
There’s soft laughter and then the woman Azul has been talking to for the better part of the last twenty minutes steps behind the counter and disappears through a door leading to the back. Azul still has his back turned towards him, standing just a little taller than he did when they’d been walking down the path to town, shoulders squared, hands clasped together at his back, smile never leaving his face.
“What did you mean?” Jack finds himself asking before he can properly realize it, his voice disrupting the quiet static hum of the cooler.
Azul turns to face him. “Excuse me?”
And yeah, that probably didn’t make much sense so Jack shifts his weight from one foot to the other, letting the motion shake off some of the embarrassment of not thinking through to the end, before he repeats himself – clearer this time, “You said Leona has been fighting for justice for a long time. What did you mean by that?”
Azul shoots him an unreadable look, somewhere between confused and surprised and for a moment Azul’s mouth opens and closes as he takes Jack’s words in and Jack actually thinks Azul might enlighten him. But then pale features settle into something Jack can only describe as what it truly is, the first look he can actually read, Azul not bothering in the slightest to hide his expression.
Blatant disapproval.
“This is a business meeting, Jack.” Azul says, pushing his glasses up the bride of his nose with a sharp inhale through his nose, “Would you kindly keep personal matters strictly separated?”
Jack’s eyebrows turn downwards, “But you-”
“I told you to keep that scowl off your face, didn’t I?” Azul chides with a click of his tongue, tone stern enough to make his tail stand up straight and ears give a startled twitch. There’s more sea salt in the air than there was a second ago. Jack takes a preemptive step backwards.
“This is the second time I needed to remind you, Jack. I won’t allow you to scare my customers and I will not allow you to scare business partners either.” Azul snaps, voice barely above a whisper and not carrying any farther than past Jack’s ears, nowhere near close to the back of the store. “If you cannot follow simple instructions and be professional then kindly wait outside until I’m done.”
The door swings open before Jack can say anything for himself and the woman returns carrying a stack of documents stained brown at the edges. Before it falls shut behind her Azul is back to his usual self, his back turned towards Jack as he offers to carry the papers for her with a forthcoming smile. Jack, for his part, gets completely ignored, Azul now in front of the counter and giving a thankful nod of his head as the woman spreads out whatever papers they needed to go over.
Jack watches the backs of their heads a moment longer, Azul’s hair no longer dancing but bobbing with each movement, acting as though everything was perfectly normal and fine, as though their conversation hadn’t happened – as though he hadn’t just told Jack to sit outside like some pet dog.
The sheer audacity of it makes Jack’s blood boil.
He’s a lone wolf, not one for taking orders and certainly not someone so easily collared and leashed and muzzled. Even back during Bean’s Day, Jack did what he felt right and sometimes that just so happened to coincide with whatever plan Azul had been spinning since a little under a year. But he did not listen to anyone, still doesn’t, and never will.
Azul better understands that and quickly too because Jack has no need for someone like him, for someone shady and corrupt and so full of themselves they’d rather tear up the whole school than admit defeat.
It doesn’t really feel like victory when the door falls shut behind him
Twenty minutes feel like an eternity when there’s nothing but the lazy flow of the river to watch, the surface sparkling prettily and reflecting the sun like a distorted mirror. He can also make out the outlines of the houses, all bent and twisted and tainted a faint shade of blue. If he squints Jack can make out signs of wear and tear etched into every doorframe and the very foundation of every house, as if their pristine forms were nothing more than a coverup, hiding leaky cellar walls full of rot. The closer he looks the more he can see the fine imperfections – a crack above the door from when it’s been slammed shut too harshly, dark footprints etched into the stone stairs from dirty feet after a day of grueling work, one window boarded up.
A glance around him reveals that no house remains unblemished, all of them standing proudly on foundations that might crumble away any second now if they’re not tended to soon. All of them pretty, all of them rotten to the core.
And then there’s Royal Sword Academy towering over the south side of the island, standing tall and proud and looking so unlike anything Jack has ever seen, pretty and raw and honest.
Part of him wonders if things are easier up there, perhaps not quite as simple as they are in Savanaclaw where strength rules above everything but not as devastatingly complicated as Azul’s plans Jack can never see through on his own until it’s too late. Jamil’s schemes that have fooled an entire dorm, or Leona who-
Leona who had staged a coup d’état and gotten so close to the end.
Leona who’s been misleading him ever since Jack saw his first magical shift game when he was little.
Leona who could have been so much but chose not to.
The sound of the door opening is his cue to stop glaring daggers at snow white castle walls and everything that might or might not be buried underneath them. Azul doesn’t even grace him with a proper hello, just turns his head towards the sun and basks in its warmth while the wind once again starts its slow dance with seafoam-colored hair.
“What a truly delightful day to make such a profitable deal,” Azul hums before he glides down the final step, always in motion one way or another, and lands next to a very grumpy-looking Jack. It’s a nice moment, slow and comfortable and grinding on Jack’s nerves in a way nobody else manages to do with such precision. Probably everything Azul wants right now.
Jack is having none of it.
“I asked you a question,” He says, keeping his voice steady and professional and just above a growl, “Inside. Before I decided to leave you behind.”
“Is that what happened?” Azul asks before he lets out an amused chuckle, his hair dancing with each minute shake of his head, “I suppose it must be the truth when you say it with such conviction.”
“The question, Azul.”
“Yes, of course. I’d be more than happy to be of service now that the business part of our errand run has been dealt with.” Azul smiles, one hand coming up to his heart placatingly, “If given the right price, that is.”
The scowl is definitely going to stick. Vil is going to be so mad.
“Aren’t you the one who calls themselves as compassionate and benevolent as the Sea Witch herself?” Jack asks though they both know the story, and the uselessness of his question. It’s still worth a shot, pointless as it is.
“Like I said, it would be my pleasure to enlighten you,” As expected, Azul’s voice doesn’t even waver, smooth like the water lapping at the shore before it recedes back into the ocean, leaving no trail of it ever having been there in the first place. “But nothing worth having comes cheap in life. Rest assured though, your question is hardly one of life and death so I won’t ask of too high a price. Whether or not you want the answer is entirely up to you, of course. I’m merely extending my hand to fellow student in need.”
“Leona was right, you really are scum,” Jack huffs, his hand once again coming to rub at the base of his neck in thought. Knowing Azul, ‘not too high a price’ is still more than Jack is willing to give. But the thought is now stuck in his head and stubbornness comes much too easy.
With no little aggravation, Jack lets out a long sigh. “What do you want?”
The corners of Azul’s lips tug upwards but he remains silent, almost looking expectantly when he cocks his head to the side ever so slightly, arms crossed in front of his chest. Octavinelle really is a pain in the ass to deal with.
“I could work another shift at Mostro Lounge.” Jack offers, the grinding of his teeth making the words difficult to say. It’s hardly very alluring but Azul had been happy enough with him after he accidentally destroyed Jade’s mushrooms. By the end of the week, even Jade and Floyd had been fond of having him around, all too happy to push the more annoying tasks onto his shoulders. Jack is tough though; he can handle one more afternoon at Mostro Lounge, even when dealing with Azul and the twins combined is the closest thing to impossible he’s ever seen. They fit together seamlessly, complementing each other’s strengths and covering their shortcomings in a way that leaves no crack in their teamwork. You simply have to follow their orders unless you want a premature death. It feels exactly like what Ace and Deuce have described Riddle being right before his overblot only this time there is no working around it – just waiting tables until his time’s up.
Maybe he should rethink his offer after all.
“A most enticing offer.” Azul hums thoughtfully. His smile doesn’t fade but it turns into that of a vulture, ominous and ugly. It makes Jack’s ears stand on edge. “But that scowl of yours is something you’ll need to rid yourself of before I can accept. I simply cannot have you scaring precious customers and staff.
One week of working at our fine establishment, no scowling allowed.” Azul states, a gloved hand coming to rest against a pale jawline, “What do you say, Jack? Do we have a deal?”
Jack almost chokes on his saliva. “One week?”
Azul makes a show of dropping his shoulders, giving his head a dejected shake as that hand comes to clutch at his chest dramatically, “You did scare my lovely and very forthcoming business partner just now. Having such behavior be a reoccurring thing at Mostro Lounge would be a tragedy beyond imagination!” Azul stands straighter then, meeting Jack’s eyes with a dangerous gleam in sky blue irises, “And you want precious intel. Anything less and I’d sell myself short, Jack. Take the offer or leave it. Like I said, the choice is entirely up to you.”
The growl Jack lets out is entirely instinctive but Jack feels no need to fight it. It’s ridiculous. Azul is ridiculous. Clearly, he hasn’t learned anything at all after his overblot. Such dedication to being nothing but vile has his tail give an angry swish.
“There’s no way.” Jack presses through clenched teeth, the sound angry and dangerous and borderline offended.
Azul merely gives a shrug, the motion so completely nonchalant Jack has to swallow down the urge to bite him.
“Suit yourself.” Azul says, turning on his heel and taking elegant steps towards the entrance of the building, motioning towards a door a little farther down with a graceful flick of his wrist, “That’s the entrance to the storage room. You’ll find three boxes right next to the door. Please be careful while you carry them back to Mostro Lounge.”
And with that Azul disappears through the door again, leaving Jack to figure out the rest on his own.
If Jack needs to wait another twenty minutes for Azul to return he’s definitely going to bite him this time.
By the time they’ve made their way halfway up the mountain Jack’s resolve starts cracking.
It’s not that he needs Azul’s insight, neither his help but there’s nothing better to do on the long trek back to Night Raven and the silence stretching between them is as unrelenting as it’s unnerving, even if Azul doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it. At the very least, he might even get a laugh out of it, Azul spinning an intricate web of lies just to make his point resemble something close to sensible.
Anything to unstick the thick quiet spanning between them.
“Four days, and I’m not working the Friday shift.” Jack says, making sure he sounds as casual as possible about the whole ordeal, “Then you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Azul doesn’t look surprised in the slightest when he turns his head to shoot him a self-satisfied smile.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Jack.”
Bastard.
His grip on the carboard boxes tightens but a deep breath and pointed look from Azul makes him relax his fingers again. It’s not a bad deal, just a little inconvenience in the next upcoming week but nothing he can’t handle. Unclenching his teeth is incredibly difficult.
“Now spill.” Jack says. There’s not too much time left until they reach the gate and he’d rather not prolong their conversation if he can’t help it, Azul’s presence already gnawing at his nerves as is. “What did you mean earlier?”
“What indeed.” Azul hums, his steps careful and deliberate, “Though it greatly pains me to speak positively about Leona after everything that’s happened, it still strikes me as curious that you’d think him as someone cowardly.”
“Of course he is,” Jack huffs, “What else would he be? The way he acted – the way he acts … it’s repulsive.”
This far up the air is ever so slightly thinner, not enough to make either of them dizzy but noticeable to a nose as sensitive as that of a wolf. Still, the scent of the ocean lingers, all sea salt and brine, the waves clinging to the corners of Azul’s lips.
“Quite the curious stance,” Azul muses, voice light and fluid as he gives a thoughtful hum. “What part about fighting fate seems so cowardly to you?”
“Fighting fate?” Jack echoes, testing the words out on his own tongue and finding their connection to his dorm head to be nonexistent, “He was just acting up like an untrained pup. Magical shift is a game won with both athletic and magical prowess.” He says, the boxes in his arms a familiar weight at this point. “Leona knows that. He should have stuck to the rules and fought a fair fight.”
“A fight starts as soon as a challenge gets raised,” Azul tells him. The next time he looks Jack’s way his eyebrow is raised in surprise, “I thought those belonging to Savanaclaw were aware of such trivial information. If you want to take someone down, you don’t wait until the whistle gets blown.”
They’re high enough their view is almost entirely unobstructed in most directions – Night Raven in front of them, the ocean in the distance and everywhere around them. It grows louder, waves spilling against the cliffside giving Azul’s voice a curious edge, as though there was no distinction between the water and his lungs – one sound, unrelenting.
“The challenge was raised as soon as the interdorm tournament was announced.” Azul continues nonchalantly, the silvery seafoam color of his hair reflecting the sunlight in a way that makes it look a striking shade of white, “The fight was fair. Malleus should have considered someone finding a way to tear him from his throne. It was always bound to happen.”
The cardboard of the boxes makes an unagreeable sound when Jack’s grip tightens.
“You’re just saying that to defend yourself.” He snaps, one step away from a bark, “You started your Bean’s Day ploy over a year earlier just to have a chance of winning. That just shows how weak you are. Without your schemes you could have never won.”
“But I did win,” Azul muses, the line of his mouth drawn in a sea-salt sour smile, “If you consider planning ahead as cheating then what do you call your vigorous training? We all want to be prepared for whatever fate throws in our faces, we just have different ways of going about it.”
The sound of waves fades into the background, too much height between them and the water but the edge in Azul’s voice stays, sharp and tangy like the ocean breeze.
“Let me ask you a question, Jack: Do you think Leona has been treated fairly?”
Jack considers him for a moment but in his mind the situation is quite easy. Leona was acting like a spoiled brat, acting out whenever he feels like it, lazing the day away and wasting all of his potential just because he can. Because he won’t listen. Because he won’t see.
Because he’s too stubborn to think he might be in the wrong.
There really is only one answer, no matter how Jack spins it.
“He got what he deserved.”
“Interesting.” Azul drawls, each syllable sounding like a scheme, “So you think it’s fair that despite Leona’s skill he’ll never be the king of his homeland? You think it is fair that blood rules the land and not competence?”
Jack hasn’t even noticed the wave building up but suddenly it’s right in front of him and breaking. The tone in Azul’s voice shifts, still liquid, still indigestible, now more dangerous than ever. Jack’s grip on the boxes tightens as if he were bracing himself for the crash.
“It is not fair and you know it,” Azul answers his own question, not even waiting for Jack to come up with one of his own before he continues, all salt and anger and poise. “You just refuse to understand it. But in truth, you also can never understand it. You’ve never been caught in a stalemate. You’ve never tried to fight something that’s bigger than you. You’ve never dreamed of something worthwhile.”
“What are you talking about?” Jack snaps, the sound so sharp it might as well be a bark. “Of course I don’t have ridiculous dreams like you guys. Nobody dreams of stampeding others or running everyone dry.” He lets out a strangled huff, coated with sea salt and coarse sand and sticking to the inside of his nostrils. Relaxing his grip on the boxes becomes something he consciously needs to force his muscles to do. “Not all of us are lunatics but if you’d have principles,” Another huff, this time coupled with a pointed look at Azul, “Or any sort of morale, you wouldn’t have been beaten so easily.”
The imprints of his fingers on the carboard are permanent now. He traces calloused fingertips over them but the indents are too deep to be smoothed over. Whatever, at least there won’t be any marks on the items inside.
“You simply weren’t strong enough,” Jack settles on, “That’s why you overblotted.”
“Oh?” Azul laughs, a sound so coarse and rich Jack instinctively focuses all his senses on him. A gloved hand reaches up to push wire-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose, the features of Azul’s face obscured by deft fingers and the reflection of the sky above them. Like this, Azul looks borderline unsettling, but it’s the hint of teeth now poking out when Azul smiles that puts Jack on edge.
“So you claim you are stronger than me?” Azul asks, amusement laced with the dangerous air of a challenge. “Stronger than Leona?”
It takes all of Jack’s willpower not to stop walking, to freeze in place and assess the situation, every fiber of his body screaming at him to put distance between Azul and himself but giving even just a little underneath Azul’s watchful gaze means making a mistake Jack cannot allow himself to make. He’s seen what Azul is capable of. A split second is enough for him to change the tides and pull Jack down the deep end.
Azul takes a measured step forward until he’s just shy of crowding Jack’s personal space, his gaze stern and just as treacherous as the ocean minutes before a storm.
The scenery around them no longer moves forward.
Jack can’t tell when he stopped walking.
“Be honest, Jack.” Azul says, the smoothness of his voice such a stark contrast to the dangerous gleam in his eyes, “Do you think you could beat Leona in a fight?”
Jack swallows.
The thought is ridiculous. He’s a lone wolf, that much is true but loyalty runs in his blood no matter how hard he tries to deny it. Leona is the one who inspired his love for magical shift, the one who showed him what true power looks like, the one who sparked a fire in the pit of his stomach that can’t be extinguished.
Leona is his dorm head, has been since Jack first entered Night Raven. Even if Jack despises the thought, part of him will always be loyal to Leona. Just considering to fight against him goes against his very core.
But Leona’s the one who reached inside his ribcage and tore out all of what he made bloom inside Jack by the fistful. Jack admires Leona as much as he despises him. Part of him can never forgive Leona.
But it was him who won Bean’s Day, him who captured Leona, and him who lasted until the end during Vargas’ Camp. If it ever came down to it, perhaps he could –
“Be honest, Jack.” Azul’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, the gravel underneath his feet crunching when he leans up to look directly into Jack’s eyes. Ocean meets land, and Jack can feel the tide change, always changing, never on his side.
Sky blue eyes narrow. “Do you consider yourself capable enough to overthrow him and take his place as Savanaclaw’s dorm head? Do you think you could beat him at magical shift? During a practical magic exam? Do you think you stand a chance against him in any subject at all?”
The sound of the ocean returns, waves in the middle of the forest, seafoam over moss, grottos underneath his feet. It’s all around them now. Jack inhales air and water equally.
“You don’t.” Azul tells him, perhaps the first truth to ever spill from his lips, all venom and bile and reality, “You know you don’t. Leona is strong and smart and he’ll have you on your knees before the fight even has begun. It will have been a fair fight too. Leona doesn’t need any schemes to take care of a small fry like you.”
Another step forward, Azul in his personal space, Jack the one with his tail tucked between his legs. “You’re disappointed. You wanted him to do better. But who are you to say what’s better? Who are you to say his best isn’t good enough? That it isn’t right? There are things we cannot do, Jack. We all have our limits. Humans, by default, are beings ruled by circumstance. Who are you to say we’re wrong for trying to fight the odds?”
Jack swallows and finds shreds of courage hidden in the gaps between his teeth. “You’re only shifting the blame away from yourself.” He says, voice steadier than he’d anticipated and full of conviction, “Circumstance has nothing to do with it.”
“What an easy thing to say.” Azul laughs, the sound light and bubbly and lacking any amusement. “Let’s pretend all of the lies you tell yourself are true – back at the interdorm magical shift tournament, if you were Leona, how would you have beaten Malleus?” He asks, the ocean in his veins neither angry nor calm and entirely unreadable, “Realistically speaking, without any schemes and plans, just pure magic and athletic ability. What would you have done in order to beat not Diasomnia but Malleus? How would you have gone about giving your team the fair fight they deserve against someone who inherently won’t allow for an even playing field?”
The words don’t even make it to the tip of Jack’s tongue this time, caught somewhere between his ribcage and lungs where they constrict around his heart and strain his muscles. There is only one definitive answer and every fiber in his body fights against it.
It’s not pity that makes Azul take the responsibility from him but something greedier, something cruel, something wretched.
“See?” Azul hums, his eyes sparkling with heartless amusement. “You can’t think of any possible way to even get close to him because there isn’t one.”
Jack hates the way Azul says it.
Azul doesn’t spit or bite or bark any of his words. Instead, he says them with cold, factual calmness - an unchangeable truth Jack cannot fight, no matter what. This is not a stalemate. The game has a clear winner, and Jack stands on the wrong side of it all.
“These are your circumstances,” Azul continues, ocean voice drowning out the sound of Jack’s blood rushing through his veins, “You are strong. Malleus is stronger. You cannot win.
Is this where things end for you?”
Perhaps there are too many differences between them – tenacity and benevolence, unfaltering strength and unmatched wit, steadfast ground and everchanging ocean – but in that moment, with Azul crowding his space, bitter sea salt on his tongue and a truth Jack doesn’t want to face dripping from his lips, Jack hates him.
The smile on Azul’s face turns wretched.
“There.” Azul says, self-satisfied and nasty.
The ocean laps against the shore and Jack doesn’t understand at all.
It’s the first time a smile reaches Azul’s eyes, slowly traveling from his lips to his irises and turning revolting somewhere along the way.
“You’re angry.” Azul says, smooth and languid and fluid and everything Jack finds impossible this moment. “I can see it in your eyes. So you do understand. You understand anger. You understand rage. You are no different from Leona and I.”
The growl Jack lets out is nothing short of harrowing.
“Do not to compare me to you cowards.”
“Do you know why people get angry, Jack?” Azul hardly pays the deep rumble tearing itself from Jack’s chest any mind when he speaks, carefully crafted nonchalance imbedded in every of his calculated moves in a way that makes it seem effortless.
Jack doesn’t and Azul knows this. Or Jack knows of a few reasons people get mad – their idol turning out to be a coward, the person you’d want for a brother to be a scrawny thief, the one he’s talking to a dirty crook. People get mad for all sorts of reasons, no more menchi katsu sandwiches, almost getting ripped off during a cheap card game, a spell not working after the tenth try, but none of these answers would satisfy someone like Azul whose words are meticulous and always hold more meaning than he lets on.
With Azul there are no right answers.
It’s infuriating, even more so when Azul remains entirely unaffected by it all, his teeth not clenched, breath not coming short, smile perpetually pleasant while the wind plays with the tips of his hair.
His eyebrows draw so deep down his forehead Jack can feel a migraine beginning to form behind his temples. Or maybe it’s been there since they walked out the gate. Maybe even before that, when he worked off his debt to Jade at Mostro Lounge, during Bean’s Day, the moment he stepped foot onto school grounds.
“There are two reasons,” Azul supplies, once more stopping Jack’s mind from wandering as he counts each one on the tip of a gloved finger, “One, a wrong has been committed and two, a right can’t be made.
This is both of them combined. These are Riddle’s circumstances. These are Leona’s circumstances. These are my circumstances.” The sound Azul makes is somewhere between humorless laugh and rough exhale but nevertheless, Azul continues, eyes still determined and stormy. “So tell me Jack, if we cannot right the wrongs inflicted upon us, and if we cannot possibly make our situation right, what else should we have done? Should we have accepted our circumstances, even if they’re unfair? Should we have turned a blind eye to the injustice around us?
Should we have died as martyrs?”
Another step forward. Any closer and Azul will stand on Jack’s feet but the situation is far from the ridiculousness such an image would paint. More than fifteen centimeters separate them in height but it’s not Azul who feels small.
“You see things as simple when they’re not, Jack.” Azul says, once again less of an accusation than fact and making Jack’s ears give an irritated twitch, “That is your problem. Right or wrong, fair or unjust, black or white – nothing truly fits just one of these categories. In your eyes, you helped your friends against some big bad they couldn’t have overcome themselves. That is your truth.”
Coral blue eyes turn different then, not soft but the way the air feels in the moments right after a storm when you’re assessing the damage and trying to figure out whether all the trees in your backyard have been uprooted.
Azul’s shoulders don’t drop when he starts walking again, standing tall and poised even if there’s dirt on his shoulders from when the wind got too rough.
It takes three heartbeats and five elegant strides before Azul continues. “But mine is that I fairly acquired their magic and labor,” He says, eyes no longer focused on Jack, staring straight at the path ahead and a little beyond, “Yet because a handful of people got upset with the rules they previously agreed to play by, everything I’ve worked for my entire life got destroyed as collateral damage so they could quit the game they signed themselves up for.”
Another huff. The storminess returns, all sharp wind and water crashing against the cliffside, sea salt underneath Jack’s fingernails, in his nose and throat and lungs and everywhere he’ll never be able to get it out from.
“They should have read the fine print. They should have consulted with others before signing a contract. They were the ones who should have known better. Those are their circumstances, self-inflicted and preventable.” Azul shakes his head then, resolution running deep in his bones as he pushes their conversation to a close unsatisfying for either of them. “But mine are that I’m on the wrong side of your story. You can never understand me, Jack. You can never understand Riddle and you can never understand Leona because you have never been wronged like we have. It’s easy to call someone a coward when your own circumstances are changed so easily. It’s easy when you’ve never dreamed of something bigger than you, of something worthwhile.”
A gloved hand runs through seafoam colored hair, stopping its eternal dance with the wind with nothing more than a flick of a pale wrist. “But what are we supposed to do against ours? Our unchangeable truths? Riddle cannot undo years of damage caused by his ruthless mother, Leona will never rule over everything the sun touches, and I –“ Azul lets out another chuckle, raw and void of any of his usual unflappable amusement. Azul’s voice no longer sounds like his own, “… I will never have enough, no matter how hard or how much I work.”
Jack doesn’t know what to do with the silence that follows. Compassion is not something he thinks he’ll ever feel for Azul, neither for Leona but the smooth steps Azul takes as they make their way back to Night Raven suddenly look deliberate in a way they didn’t before, as if walking on a rough surface needed special attention, as if his ankles might give out with one wrong step, as if he never was meant to walk on land and trying very hard not to fall.
Different as they are, there is no common ground between them, and Jack doesn’t know what to with that.
“Please don’t get this wrong now, Jack.” Azul says after another minute of walking, the trees now below them, nothing but a twenty meter drop on either side of the road and the ocean but a faint memory sticking in between the gaps of Jack’s teeth. “None of us are jealous of you.
We’re envious.” Azul spits before his tone turns softer, not gentle but tired, exhausted, with the anger still lingering in the moments he opens his eyes after a too long dream. “You have it so easy. I wish I could see things as black and white as you do. Things would be so simple then.”
Night Raven College stands in front of them now, tall and poised but if he squints Jack can make out wear and tear gnawing at its walls. It’s barely noticeable but undeniably there – all cracks and crumbling foundation, as charming as it is repulsive. The castle unchanged and yet so different, despite it all, because of it all.
Azul inhales a lungful of air.
“Let me tell you one more thing, Jack.” Azul says, the gate now in front of them, their trip finally coming to a close they both have been looking forward to for quite some time now. “As someone who’s always worked hard for everything I’ve acquired, I can confidently say: You don’t deserve what you don’t respect. You cannot say Leona is the reason you’re here at Night Raven and then neglect everything he is just because you disagree with his view of the world. You cannot blame him for setting your own expectations too high. I’m not saying your feelings are entirely unjustified, and I’m not telling you to forgive him, but I am telling you to learn how to bite your tongue. Nobody bites the hand that feeds them and comes out on top.”
Azul is the first to pass through the gate, not turning back to make sure Jack is still with him. The sound of grass crunching underneath his feet is familiar but lacks any of its usual comfort. In the distance, Jack can see the track and field club setting up hurdles on the P.E. field but right now, Jack doesn’t feel like running anymore.
“I believe you know your way back to Mostro Lounge.” Azul says, suddenly stopping in the middle of Main Street, “Kindly bring them into the back. Jade will be waiting for you there. The two of you will do a quick inventory check, then you’re free to leave. As for me, the board game club meets in ten minutes, so I’ll be saying my goodbyes here.”
“Right,” Jack says, speaking up for what feels like the first time in forever, his voice strangely tight, unsure and just this side of hesitant, “No need to worry about me, I know the way.”
“Very well then.” Azul gives Jack a curt nod of his head before he turns on his heels to leave towards the main building, “I’ll be seeing you around then.”
Jack watches his silhouette recede ever so slowly, one foot in front of the other, going his own way, even if his feet have never been meant to walk on land. An unchangeable truth changed by spite alone.
Part of Jack will never understand Azul.
“Azul!” He calls, voice carrying through the courtyard like a howl at the moon, a far cry to change the tides one more time, the waves receding, leaving seashells and pebbles and shards of sea glass and so many other signs of life in their wake.
Azul turns around, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“This is not where it ends!” Jack shouts, louder this time for no reason at all other than to show Azul he’s not the only one with determination and a sense of justice so vicious it’s vile. The cardboard underneath his fingers makes another disagreeable sound but Jack only holds on tighter.
“It better not be.” Azul says, tone more polite and pleasant than Jack’s screaming but no less loud, the ocean just as unrelenting as the ground underneath their feet.
“That would be awfully boring indeed.” He laughs, seafoam colored hair dancing in the wind, a wave constantly on the cusp of breaking. “Now go. I already told you tardiness will not be tolerated in Octavinelle and Jade so hates people slacking off during opening hours.”
Jack is almost surprised to find himself not scowling when Azul turns his back towards him for what has to be the tenth time today. One day, he’ll make Azul regret that decision.
For now though, he’d really rather not get on Jade’s bad side.
One way or another, this really is going to be a long four days.