"Fine," I mutter. "Casino. But if I lose all my kebab money I’m blaming you specifically."
[System: Yeah, that’s the spirit. Now get up on the roof]
Wait, what?
[System: gliding practice. Can’t be showing up to a casino flapping around like a pigeon with a head injury; gotta look smooth, gotta look cool, gotta look like a bloke who belongs there]
I’m already regretting every choice that led me to this exact hallway at this exact moment, but somehow tail is moving toward the stairs anyway, because that’s just how it works with Old Mate: he suggests something insane, and my body just goes along with it before ...my brain can catch up to it and rebut the suggestion.
Up on the roof, the wind’s picking up a bit, cold against my scales, and I slither near the edge, looking down at what feels like an unreasonable amount of concrete below.
i mean, it’s not the first time he’s done this to me, but I’d rather we didn’t do it again.
This is abuse. This is genuinely, actually abuse.
[System: noted mate, filing it under ’character development’]
That’s not what abuse means.
[System: yeah nah it kind of is though]
I don’t even get the chance to argue further because a gust of wind hits me square in the back, way too convenient to be actual weather, and I know immediately that’s Old Mate cheating somehow, using ...whatever magic nonsense a koala can possess, and then I’m airborne whether I like it or not.
FLY, I scream, wings snapping open on pure instinct, "FLY FLY PLEASE GLIDE!"
And they do, barely. Enough that I level out instead of turning into a Matt-shaped stain on the pavement, gliding down in a wobbly arc that probably looks more like a dying paper aeroplane than a graceful predator of the skies, but hey, I’m alive, so I’m calling that a win.
The landing does not go as smoothly as the glide.
I come in too fast, wings flailing, and just as I brace for the concrete to introduce itself to my face, something warm and solid slams into me, and I collapse sideways into it, the impact jarring but infinitely better than the pavement.
Hi Hana.
She doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t ask why I just fell out of the sky into her arms like a confused bird. Just steadies me with one hand like this happens every day, glances up like she definitely did not just witness her charge nearly eat concrete, and looks at me with that same unreadable professional calm she always has.
"Young lord," she bows.
And okay, I don’t know what it is about that specific phrase in that specific tone, low and even and completely straight-faced, but something about it goes straight through me like a bullet, and I have to physically will myself not to react to it while I’m literally still tangled up against her.
I let out a low hiss, recoiling slightly, trying to look like a guy who meant to do that. "Yeah, hey Hana. What’s up."
She doesn’t ask about the fact that I just dropped out of the sky like a malfunctioning kite, just tilts her head slightly.
"Young lord, where are you off to?"
"Casino," I state, like it’s a totally normal answer.
She nods once, no follow-up questions, no judgment, just a small wave of her hand like she’s flagging down a waiter, and somewhere down the road an engine purrs to life out of absolutely nowhere, headlights sweeping the dark as one of my dad’s limos glides up to the curb like it’s been sitting there the whole time waiting for exactly this moment.
I don’t ask how, and honestly, fuck it, I don’t wanna know why. I’ve decided that questioning anything of father’s mafia is a losing game, so I just slither toward the car like a man who definitely has his life together.
[System: mate, mate, you just fell off a roof, got caught by your babysitter, and now you’re getting into a limo that appeared out of thin air. You’re a legend, an absolute fucking legend.]
I’m aware.
[System: this is the best day I’ve had in ages]
Glad one of us is enjoying it.
The inside of the limo is stupidly nice, all leather and mood lighting and a little fridge full of drinks I’m definitely not old enough to drink in this life, but who cares now, and I slither in and immediately realise there’s barely any actual seating, just this long curved bench that wraps around the whole back half of the car.
Takes me a second to get it.
Oh, yep, right. Long tail and coiled body. This thing probably wasn’t built with normal human hips in mind; it’s built for someone who needs space to loop themselves around instead of just sitting down like a regular person.
I let out a little laugh in my head and settle in. My tail coils under me naturally, then immediately uncoils. It feels weird. I coil it again. That feels worse. I keep adjusting, caught in a loop, completely unable to figure out how this body is supposed to work.
Hana sits across from me, perfectly still, hands folded, not even glancing at my tail-origami situation happening two feet away from her.
Okay, alright, a casino. Let’s think about this like an adult.
So what am I actually supposed to do there?
In my old life, before all the scales and venom glands, I think I bought a scratch ticket like twice. Maybe three times, never won anything more than three dollars, which just felt like the universe laughing at me for even trying.
[System: yeah nah that tracks, you got broke loser energy stamped right through you like a stick of rock]
I want to tell you to shut up, but I think you might be right.
[System: ’course I’m right, I’m always right, that’s the whole bit]
So what do I actually do, I ask, watching the lights of the underground city go past through the tinted window. Do I just slither in and start flicking money onto a table with my tail and hope for the best?
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