The Art of Broken Pieces

60 Porgs (Dark Spoon Rising)

Masks came next, and Invigio insisted upon sending them to his particular friend, to whose shop he transferred the designs of their masquerade garb. By the time they arrived at the shop, the mask-maker had set out five choices for each of them. A quick scan of their faces for customized padding, and they were ejected onto the street with compliments and a promise that their parcels would arrive at the villa in perfect time for the masquerade.

Their errands summarily completed for the day, Rey found herself twisting her fingers inside her pants pockets almost nervously. They walked the marble-tiled streets, passing beneath well-manicured vines and trees restrained in silver baskets. The scent of flowers wove through the air, along with the carefree threads of chatter and laughter from the nearby cafes.

Her eyes fell on the lush patio of a nearby cafe, and her head turned as the seductive curl of steam from simmering meat seemed to crook a finger at her. A few more steps, and there was a sweet, spiced smell that sent her head swiveling the other direction. Ever the scavenger, she found herself wondering where and what her next meal would be, and whether any of the things snaring her attention now were safe to eat.

As the path curved around the side of the hill, the shops to their left dropped away, revealing a long sprawl of icy green grass that culminated on a bluff overlooking the largest of the canals, and the jumble of sparkling rooftops and spires of Aurelia proper. The whole space was stitched with a patchwork of blankets and lounging people. The occasional droid picked its way toward the people, delivering baskets of steaming food, plush folded furs to ward off the chill breeze.

She stopped to watch, confused. "Why are they eating on the ground?" she asked. It was what she'd always done—what any person poor enough to scavenge for their next bite had done. Even the resistance, just after Crait, had seen everyone crouched anywhere they fit on the Falcon, scarfing rations like beggar children. Most of the people on those blankets were as well-dressed as the people still threading through. "If they can afford those clothes, I assume they can afford to eat at somewhere with tables."

Ben glanced at her, trying for a moment to decide if she were being serious, or facetious. Realizing she really didn't understand, he paused, leaning against the walkway railing.

"It's about an idea of casual luxury." He said with a shrug. It's more... private somehow, more intimate than tables and chairs. It's the kind of thing that families do when they have the time and want to get away." He hesitated, thoughts of family difficult for them both.

"I've never quite seen it commercialized though..." He took her hand and looped her arm through his as he led her towards the archway that seemed to designate the hillside as a discreet venue. "Shall we, Mrs Tahn?"

Rey grinned. "Maybe I'll be better at pretending to be a rich person who's pretending to be poor," she said, letting herself be pulled closer by the gravity of his large form. His arm felt nice under her hands, fingers just barely brushing the slim patch of skin between his shirt cuff and the edge of his glove. She traced her fingertips along the thick vein that looped around his wrist bone, wishing she could pull off his glove and push up his sleeve, and follow its track. She wanted to walk her fingers down into his palm.

Rey shook herself from the wandering thoughts as they approached the host droid. There was surprise filtering through the bond, and she wasn't sure if it was at the vague petting, or because some of her desires had leaked through their bond.

Rey certainly wasn't making it easy to hold onto the hurt and anger that Ben still stubbornly wanted to feel. In only a matter of days things had shifted so completely between them that Ben's footing felt unstable, muddied. He still burned with slow anger about her relationship with Poe Dameron--both wanted to know more about it and know nothing at all. He still remembered the feel of her skin and the shattering betrayal of finding her in another's bed. But he also had felt the intensity of the sadness and confusion and... truth that she had thrown at him after the auction. He had felt her desperation for him, and in every day since something had been growing that he both craved and could not bring himself to trust.