Love under the blossoms

Gwen was sure that the woman sitting across from her thought the air was tense. She thought she had bargaining chips and that she could smooth talk her way into whatever plan that diabolical grin represented. Of course, she would not buy that though. This woman really didn't know who she was messing with. She could have all the smooth-talking language and legalese she wanted.

Gwen had an axe.

“Please sit down, miss.” The woman said. Gwen noticed that to her left there was a man in a suit. A bodyguard, she suspected, though he didn't look very threatening. He was a Ranian or, as the colloquialism of the area dictated, a Frogkin. Gwen wasn't sure why he was dressed up to look all muscular and imposing. She'd worked with many Ranians during her adventuring days, and none of them were very good at heavy lifting. They were talented magicians, but this? She wasn’t buying it.

“I’ll stand.”

“Very well. I will cut to the chase. My name is Maddison Fontaine, foremost recruiter and babysitter of talent for the Fontaine talent agency. Thanks to the kidnap of your darling friend here, we know you have received something that belongs to us.”

“Belongs to you?”

“Yes.” She produced a poster of Dorian and threw it on the table. It folded out before her. “We are looking for him.”

“Them.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It's Them. You're not looking for him, you're looking for Them.”

“Oh right.” The agent waved her hand nonchalantly. “I pay little attention to all that identity nonsense. We're not in the business of making people happy, Miss Greenbottle. As far as I'm concerned, you're either a man or a woman.”

“Except, of course, the races of the continent that have over two genders.”

“I don’t really think about them either.”

If this were a normal conversation, Gwen would gleefully point out the fact she had just used a pronoun that isn't gender specific to describe something, but this wasn't a normal situation and besides, she was pretty sure that Maddison would just word salad her way out of it anyway. “Is Gregory all right?”

“Oh, that's his name? Yes, he's fine, just your run-of-the-mill sleeping gas. He should wake up soon.” She pointed to the roof of the building where Gwen’s attention was brought to the fact that two projection orbs were hovering above her. She was recording this. “But if you are so bothered by what I've said, we can debate it if you like?”

“Hells no! I know what this is, we're going to have a chat and then you'll go home and use whatever magic you used on those orbs to edit the footage and make me look like a country bumpkin. Then you'll post it all over the message boards with a title like: Maddison Fontaine DESTROYS backwater progressive, and all the Celestials will clap and tell everybody what a patriot you are, then you're raking in the gold.”

Fontaine was taken back by this. “It will be just as easy to convince people you were a coward! It can still go up on the message boards. They will still be able to humiliate you!”

And so, it was official. Gwen had never met a more self-centred person in her entire life. It didn’t even take very long. She was beginning to think that people that desire authoritarianism might actually be the most sensitive of all.

People told her that the angels that lived in the Celestial Realm lived in their own bubble, but Gods above, this is ridiculous!

“Oh great, that's a really genius plan, love. Except, one minor detail, I don't use message boards.” She wasn't going to continue the conversation, but the look of genuine confusion on this woman's face gave her a sense of weird community justice that she hadn't felt before. “Also, I'm a small business owner who lives in a forest. Why the bloody hell would I have time to care about the comings and goings of your pretty, pathetic angel people?”

Maddison reddened. “That’s racist!”

Gwen shrugged. “I’m just going to take Gregory now. It was very easy to pick him up and fling him over her shoulder. It turned out to be much more difficult to exit the building. When she attempted to turn the handle, the blue, particle like magic that had been radiating from the place where they stood prevented her hand from moving. “Great, now I'm stuck here listening to you. Fucking brilliant.” She sat Gregory back in the chair.

“All I want to know is where Dorian is. When I have him you can leave, I will take him back to the agency and he will do what he's supposed to do. That’s all Wizards are good for these days, right? Signing things, looking pretty and making money.”

“I dare say,” came a groggy voice. “I cannot begin to tell you the lengths to which you are incorrect.”

Gwen rushed to Gregory’s side. “Oh, don’t do the whole dramatic concern thing Gwen, it doesn't suit you.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s better.” He turned his attention to Maddison. “Madam, I'm quite sure that you wanted this to turn into something incredibly dramatic, I'm sure you wanted this to be a big spectacle that you could show everyone and, I don't know, assert your dominance or whatever it is you people like to do. You’ve known Dorian Quillford Perpermin how long exactly?”

“Long enough.” Fontaine stuck up her nose in that haughty way. Like a Baroness in a play lording over the peasants.

“Well then, surely you know his occupation?”

“He’s a talent for the Fontaine talent agency.”

“No, you clueless bumbling oaf! I mean their true calling.”

Maddison was confused.

“Nothing, forget I said anything. I apologize for my behaviour. I'm very agitated, you see, it's boiling. For what it's worth, I absolutely agree with you that there are certain people that are just superior to others. I would certainly include you and I in that bracket. I mean, you're a famous talent agent and I’m a famous author. To be truthful, I don't even know why you're bothering with a wizard who is certainly past their prime.”

“Do you think I'm stupid? You're just trying to make me forget about Dorian.”

“But if I made you forget about Dorian, I wouldn't be able to leave this room, which, as I've stated just now, is something that I would really like to do. I don't really want to die of heat exhaustion. If it means I must give up that pompous flamboyant troublemaker, then that's fine. We might even be able to make a deal of it! Come on, perhaps I could write a book about how I was kidnapped by one of those dastardly queer Wizards. I'm sure that would sell well up there, wouldn't it? All I ask is that you give me some air.”

If Gregory Goode knew how to do one thing, it was play up the perceived qualities of people. He'd been doing it himself for years, so he could easily spot when somebody else was doing it too. If she wasn't such a massive supremacist sycophant, he would probably feel sympathy for her too. But it was at that point, when Fontaine slightly pushed open the door, allowing the smallest crack of non-magical light in, that he knew he had won…

“Gods, I love it when you talk all posh like that.” Dorian said as he materialized into the room. “I’m a Wizard!”

***

“You tricked me! Maddison shrieked. Ignoring her, Dorian went straight over to Gregory and kissed him on the head. “Are you all right?”

“Oh yes, I'm perfectly fine! I had my heart broken, then I was kidnapped and drugged, then I was trapped in a room and now you're invading my personal space!”

“Yep, you’re fine!”

“You bastard! You’d be nothing without me! Who picked you up off the street? You were just one of the poor! You were destitute, you had nothing! I made you what you are and not only do you have the nerve to embarrass me, even worse, you're in breach of contract!” Everyone marvelled at the businesswoman’s suddenly grotesque, veiny face.

“Contract? What contract?”

“This one!”

Flustered, the businesswoman threw the contract down on the table. “You are contracted to me for the next two hundred years. If you refuse to turn up for work any longer, you will be in breach of contract, and I will sue you for all the gold you’re worth!”

Dorian had been waiting for this moment for the longest time. While there was truth in what Maddison had said, they were also an idiot. Everybody needs something to pass the time and for them that was being famous. They knew outside of the pew pew noises that they could make from their fingers there was nothing special, not anymore. But then, on the day they fell into the almond tree café, they became someone. They became Dorian Quillford Perpermin.

Which is why what they said next gave them the greatest amount of pleasure.

“Oh but, I don't have any gold, not anymore. I used it all to make golden unicorn balloons I could ride around on. I've been living homeless in a cloud for the past 60 years. All of those suits I showed up in were rental hires. It helps not to be so self-righteous, then you have friends that will do things for you. Wow, you didn’t notice? I might need a new agent.”

Her face dropped. Dorian enjoyed watching all the life drain from this woman's body. She had used her totalitarian charisma and promise of money to get him to do whatever she wanted. But now there was no money, the charisma had also gone. To Dorian’s astonishment, she cried.

“I still have the contract! You can make me back the money! I'm going to make you do so many appearances that you will beg for death!”

“But doesn't that violate some kind of universal labour law?”

“As if we give a damn about labour laws! We control the news. There will be allegations, Dorian!”

“Oh yeah? Sick! Can I choose? I pick drug scandal!”

That smirk came back again. “Exactly, so be a good boy and come back with me.”

It was obvious to all but her, Gods, this woman could not read a room.

Dorian thought about it for all of one second before reaching over and putting their finger on the contract. To the shock of miss Fontaine, the light that sprang from the appendage began to burn the piece of paper. One moment it was there, the next it was not.”

“I will not lecture you about how to address me because I don't need to talk to you anymore. I know that you have more contracts on file but I'm quite surprised, given your vast intelligence, you forgot to do one very important thing.” Dorian had picked up Gregory in their arms.

“What’s that?”

“You forgot to turn the orbs off.”

Dorian, Gregory and Gwen left the pathetically grand interrogation shed to the sound of a woman arguing with a frog. She was crying hysterically as the Frogkin stole her purse.

***

“Well, that was fun!” The grin was back. Gregory groaned.

“You're being very loud! I'm grateful for your lovers carry out of the creepy church, but my head hurts.”

“Sorry.” Dorian said in a whisper.

“No, its… listen I…”

The hapless bespectacled man felt his cheeks go red as Dorian gently placed their hand upon them. Gregory looked up and saw that the branches now had on them bright white blossoms. One of them fell on his nose, causing Dorian to blow it away.

Looking up at the face of the person who saved him, he realized that, even though he might struggle with simple things like personal space or normal conversation. He needed to say what he wanted to say now, or he would never say it. He took a deep breath.

“This is obviously really hard for me. I've never really had a place, or a person, or anywhere that I felt I belonged. People always push me away because I was too awkward or too quiet and I hated every second. Everyone else got to have fun adventures and romance, and I got… well, I got me. I didn't think that anybody would ever be my friend, much less rescue me from a conservative news woman.”

“I agree. I was really cool. No! No! I can't do that. I have to apologize. I'm an idiot. I know you were just trying to explain your feelings and I couldn't stop being Dorian, the celebrity. I'm really really sorry I didn't take your feelings into consideration. I'm actually really new at this friend thing too and I…”

“What I’m trying to say is! Thank you for being my friend and thank you for showing me that there's a world outside my home and books. Thank you for showing me that Gwen is a person who doesn't just dispense drinks. Thank you for showing me that people are interesting and thank you for showing me what love looks like.”

“Gregory Goode! I you trying to say that I’m a paragon of virtue and social decency!”

“You know what I'm trying to say. I'm trying to say that I love you.”

Both of them paused for a moment, blushing. They were unsure what to do until growing shouts of kiss, kiss, kiss came from Gwen and the Tree. No one else was around. This didn't need to be a grand gesture, it just needed to be a gesture. One that meant that they were going to be together for as long as the Gods would allow.

Gregory pressed his lips to Dorian’s and, for the first time, under the almond blossoms, felt truly, truly happy.