The Dusk Amber Digit (Halfstreet Archives)- genre: Steam/Otherworld Teen

The dusk amber digit / pg 2

* 

'Moshe.'  

Nemik's eyes, bloodshot, meet mine with muted light, weakly locking gaze. He forces a smile, looking very small on the thin cushioned-rectangle he half-sits on, blankets jumbled at legs and waist. I move beyond the door into his other-named prison, wringing the top of the candy bag. 

'I was just telling Mother how much I'm enjoying my registry. Quite fortunate they've forced me here. Imagine the havoc a creative mind would wreak in Young Ceylon,' he smirks, pausing for effect, the reverse smile deepening when our mother rises from her perch upon the flat wood wall-diamond. 

We watch her check her timepiece without comment, and reenter the hall.  

'Collecting souls this late, then?'  

His eyes drift from the hall without having gathered her answer, reengaging me with a relaxed slouch.  

'Her sensitivity has ruined my surprise,' he continues in mock exasperation, turning on me puppy dog eyes and a toying frown.  

I can say nothing. I swallow, lips twitching at their sides to, I hope, make a soft lie.  

'You worrying over me, Moshical?'  

He finds a smile for me; influences it up and out of hiding, hitching it higher under my right cheek.  

'Better,' he winks, pointing a finger. 

'Have you eaten?' I ask, lifting the bag of crystallized raspberry sugar, passing it to him. I frown at the warmth of my mother's abandoned seat on the small diamond panel. 

'She comes bearing sugarglass,' he smiles, yielding a nod of thanks. 'You know, I'm fresh out of Loraphine Loops, but I remember them fondly. Every time I close my eyes, as it were.'  

His wink punctuates his riddle.  

My eyes seek the open door, returning to him widened.  

'Would you suppose a champion of the Loraphine's maze could bypass an ear?' He adds. 

My eyes meet the ceiling in vexation. This is the kind of arrogant ego-stroking that landed him here. 

He was risking going back? He... could go back? Without a Kem drop?  

'Your fingertips scream for a new line of work, MishMosh.'  

Reflexively, I tuck my hands into my sleeves.  

'I don't work weekends. It's time enough off.'  

The mirth leaves his eyes the moment I say it. I almost regret worrying him.  

His face pales to a wind worn walnut hue, and I notice now the darkening beneath his eyes.  

'I have an important story to tell you. One I've saved.'  

'No,' I whisper, refusing him another word. 'I won't hear your stories here.'  

'Oh but it's quick,' he reassures, even as the short curls topping his mostly shaven head coil into miniature spires.  

'Stop it. This is not the place.'  

'A secret will come for you tonight, sweet and strong, and it will take your fear.'  

'You need your strength. Stop being foolish or I will leave,' I hiss. 

'You're being silly, Moshemaiden; ever bearing words without leverage. Don't you see your warden's returned to the door? You're leaving anyway. Isn't that so, mother?'