Intermission: Steady Aim

"Hey," Carmen said gently as she walked out the back door. "Are you alright?"

Fortune had paced in circles on the brown grass for several minutes now. He'd planned the gallery to be on the anniversary of Constance's death—it made sense at the time, but it was proving to be too much. The pipe in his hand was gratefully lit, the tobacco smoke holding in his lungs before he expelled it from his mouth. The burn calmed him somewhat. This specific pipe would soon shape the smoke into fantastical shapes depicting his greatest adventurous feats if he let it, but he was already reliving them. Just like he thought, it wasn’t fun.

"Not s'bad," he offered, trying to still himself. His arm shook, so he clamped his hand around his thin wrist. He crouched to draw in the dry dirt.

"I see that." She leaned against the building. "They're not happy in there, you know."

"Good." Fortune spat. He could almost taste the graywater in his mouth again. "Fuck 'em."

Carmen was not impressed. "They're giving Imber trouble."

Fortune's head snapped up. "How?"

"Nothing serious. Just being rude." She shook her head. "He says he's used to it, being a dark elf."

"No," he groaned. "He shouldn't have to be. God dammit." He stood, stretching his arms over his head, then sighed. "Just let me know when intermission's up. I'll bring my best attitude." He bared his crooked teeth in what a wolf might've called a smile.

Despite herself, Carmen smiled. "Come here."

Fortune tensed. "I'm good. Really."

"You need a hug, dude."

Pressing his lips together, Fortune shuffled over and uneasily put his forehead on Carmen's shoulder. Her brawny arms enveloped him. She smelled like wind and metal.

"I didn't know Cora was older than you."

He barked a laugh. "Weird to me, too."

She was quiet for a moment. "And I didn't know Nathaniel tried to kill you."

He hesitated. "Didn't come up." He took a deep breath. "How's he doin', anyway?"

"Don't know." Carmen shrugged. "Lena wants to respect his privacy, but Selin almost spills it every time she visits."

Fortune exhaled. "Yeah."

They stood like that for a couple more minutes, until Fortune got itchy. He lightly pushed on her shoulders, and she released him. He leaned against the wall next to her.

"Do you think this half'll be easier or harder?" she asked.

He considered that. "Harder."

"For you or them?"

"Both." It was true; the one night revolution in Mistston had been an extreme low followed by a neck-breaking high, but the rest was only steadily downhill. "Some… cosmic implications."

Carmen pointed at him affirmingly, as if embarrassed to have asked. She pushed off the wall. "Well, steady your aim. It's time."

"Get those chairs ready."

She shook her head, chuckling with exasperation. "Imber's gonna stab me."

Fortune took in the disgruntled crowd as he entered. Some of them, bafflingly, looked even more smug than before. Though the anger rose in him, he knew he couldn't stomp them down or make them pay. He decided he shouldn't.

He looked to the window for the bulk of his important audience. The dove flock had thinned out, but there were about ten left. He smiled.

"Sorry for the wait, folks." Fortune took the stage once again. "Only about an hour left, then you can head back to your porcelain pots."

Scattered laughter. Strange. He wondered if it would be the same by the time he was done.

"Well—" He clapped his hands, forever stained with paint. "Back to it."