In his grocery store, Yeung-Sung swayed to a psychedelic tune as he waited for customers to approach his till. He swung his hips left and right, waved his arms loose, his back a sapling. When the song was in full groove he pulsed out with his shoulders, when the ending melody played, he climbed his fingers across the countertop like it was a piano. Among the handful of coloners wandering the aisles, one in front of Yeung-Sung gave him a queer look. Shrugging at him, he began to hum as he caught the gist of the next song.

Down the aisle, Woo-Yi finished a transaction with a smile. The lady clutched her bag of carrots tight, putting her empty basket on top of the stack as she exited.

“Boss?” Woo-Yi asked

Yeung-Sung turned to her.

“What’s up? I’m not gonna stop, if that’s what you’re about to ask.”

She looked as if he was about to answer, then peered behind him, out through the front window. Unsticking her elbows from the counter, she went to leave the till area.

“I’m gonna,” she mumbled, “gonna sort out aisle two.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Yeung-Sung said. “Oh, stock up veg again while you’re at it.”

Woo-Yi paused. He caught her sliding glance with another shrug. She sighed, so deep Yeung-Sung could see the plates of her shoulder-blades shifting.

He was on to playing some funky air-guitar when the next customer came. He pounded down some meats, beer and corn chips down.

“Hey-ee, men-ee,” he said, a chalk block of a smile in his mouth. “These-ee please.”

The customer stepped back, moving in a similar uncaring way. Recognizing this, Yeung-Sung nodded and continued in the same manner, scanning the filaments of each item while wobbling to the beat.

“A special night for you?” Yeung-Sung asked.

“Oh sim, man-ee. Got to enjoy-ee the last few days-ee of the colony.”

“Right. Enjoy yourself -”

Yeung-Sung kept the bag of chips in his hand, dumbfounded. “Wait. What?”

“O men-ee, you are still having the free?

“Hallo?”

“Oh, yes, I am. One item is free. I’ll pay for it.”

The man puckered his lips and nodded happily. “Sweet. You can do the chips?”

Hesitating, he reached a hand back for his phone, “Uh-huh, no problem.”

A few days, that’s pessimistic.

The phone wasn’t were he thought it was… “Ah, sorry. One moment.”

He turned to the alcohol shelf behind him. I know tensions are high, but there’s no way it’ll all just “end” in a few days. He was certain that he hadn’t put it there, but upon searching a bit he found it behind two vodka bottles. Swiping open Airgead he coughed and proceeded to scan the chip’s filament.

“There you go. Thanks for stopping by.” Holding the bag out, he waited ‘til the Brazilian went to grab it before drawing it back.

“Um, quick question,” he blurted out. Leaning over closer to him, Yeung-Sung brought his voice down to a whisper and asked, “You’re not with the Duner’s are you?”

“Naen Fudendo!” he spat, nearly snorting. “The Debaters, my friend-eh.”

He snatched his groceries, hiking them up so they sat comfortably in is arms and made to leave. “But-ee, honestly it doesn’t matter. Jordan make-ee this impossible game and see how long it take-ee us to figure it out. That’s the experiment-chee and everybody soon will know this.”

He laughed as he began his saunter out. “PM is crying already.”

Now that’s interesting. He doesn’t seem like the type, but if he really is a Debater then… it really might be over.

Yeung-Sung served several more customers indiscriminately, his thoughts occupied by this idea. Will it actually just fail and blow over? More importantly, is it possible that Airgead is just a front? I mean, this was never going to work. And the incompetence of half the GLI staff can be easily explained by them having been actors.

Hmm… Is that why he really hates me? Because I saw through his charisma, saw the bullshit he was trying to pass of as “saving the world”? Not because I remind him of his lost wife and kid.

A purring voice punctured his thought.

“Boss?”

“Yah?” Yeung-Sung broke out of his musing He scrambled, looking every way, eventually noticing the simmering sun, the empty store. “It’s time to close, isn’t it?”

Woo-Yi stood in front of the counter with her arms folded over her hips. Her bangs flicked up like earphone cords when she nodded.

Pulling out his phone, Yeung-Sung began to close the shop’s system. He looked up. “Well, you can clean up.”

He glanced at her when he she didn’t answer. “You coming to the Wick after?”

Looking down, frowning at footprints on the floor she said,

“Maybe…”

Yeung-Sung read the Wick chat while waiting outside for Woo-Yi to finish. Tabbing out to the marketplace, he was happy to see that his newest potions were selling well, half the stock gone in the past couple days. He had several warnings from PM in his mailbox about selling items to the gauntlet AI, but after the first one, he left them unopened until he was sick of seeing the red notifications, forgetting them and checking his inbox several times a day only to be disappointed.

The front door made its jittery whoosh as it closed for the last time and he looked up. Woo-Yi grunted, grappling with the last inch of the door to get it in its lock position. After clicking it in place, she unfurled the cardigan under her arm and stuffed herself quickly into it. Its black wool was embroidered with an assortment of bright flowers on the shoulders.

Daisies and…tulips?

“What shop is that from again?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

He pointed. “The cardigan”

Woo-Yi swept back a bang, pinching the fabric forward and looked at a droopy flower.

“The cardigan is from Anna’s. The flowers are mine.”

Seeing Yeung-Sung’s reaction she drew the cardigan tightly around her, crossing her arms over it. “What? You think I can’t do anything for myself?”

“No, not all, what I meant is…”

“I don’t care what you meant.”

The snap of tension stunned Yeung-Sung as Woo-Yi began striding away.

“I’ve done everything for you since we started. I don’t know why I continue, why I bother…,” her voice sank.

“Hey, is that what this is about?” Yeung-Sung ran after her. “I didn’t expect you to actually do any of those things.”

He swerved out in front of her and tried to block her path but she went around him. “But you didn’t sass me back, so, eh- I just went with it.” He scratched his neck. “Perhaps I took advantage of you today. A little.”

He looked up and she was already half-way into an estate.

“Hey! I’ll- I’ll make it up to you. C’mon, come to the Wick with me.”

He walked into a backhand. “Ow! You know I haven’t fully recovered, right?”

Woo-Yi scowled back at him with her hand outstretched, the sleeve of her cardigan arced out in a wingspan.

“A little?”

Yeung-Sung felt for any splits in his skin. “Sorry, Woo-Yi” he said, exposing his face again. He flinched as she popped her hand up, but after a moment he realized that she wasn’t going to hit him. He hoped, anyway. Even still, he was wary as she walked with it swinging up and down in stiff motions, and danced around on his feet at every sharp turn.

Will there ever be a point where I can be comfortable around this woman?