Not Even a Smart Fruit
The back room turned out to be a cozy sitting area behind the shop, mismatched chairs and a kettle already warming.
They talked until the first pot went cold and Simone made another. The university, the shop, the plushie orders that kept Simone up past midnight, Bram's day job, which he described with the enthusiasm of a man reading terms and conditions aloud. It felt less like catching up with old teammates than like a family dinner that had simply been postponed for a few years.
"Okay, I have to ask," Arista said, pointing her cup at them both. "The first time you met in person. Bram. Green hair, the whole trickster aesthetic. What happened?"
Bram groaned. Simone lit up.
"He walked past me three times," Simone said.
"I was early," Bram said. "I was looking for green."
"He was forty minutes early. I sat in the window and watched a very large man scan every head in that café for green hair."
"It was a reasonable search criterion."
"It was not."
"And then?" Arista asked.
"And then she waved," Bram said. "I looked right at her and I just..." He gestured vaguely at the entire length of Simone. "She was a person. A regular, normal person, with brown hair, and she was really, really pretty, and my brain stopped."
"He stopped walking," Simone said. "Mid-step. A waitress had to go around him."
"I said the first thing that came to mind."
"He said, 'You're not green.'"
Arista pressed her fist against her mouth.
"Then he heard how that sounded," Simone went on, relentless, "and tried to fix it. 'No, I mean, you look great. Normal. Great normal.'"
"Great normal," Arista repeated.
"I'm not allowed to forget it."
"It took me about ten minutes to reboot," Bram admitted. "After that it didn't change anything."
"Twelve," Simone said. "A lot of dates later, he proposed."
"And the wedding?" Arista asked. "Tell me there's a story."
"There are several," Bram said. "The best one is my mother-in-law asking how we met."
"He told her, 'She built me a wingsuit, and then I was launched out of a catapult,'" Simone said.
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"It was technically accurate."
"It did not help." Simone's voice softened. "We set a place for you, you know. A card that said 'Strawberry.' We didn't have anything else to write."
Arista's cup stopped halfway to her mouth.
Bram winced. "I know."
"I know you know," Simone said, and Bram reached for the teapot. "My cousin sat next to your empty chair all night and drank your glass as well as her own. She said you were the best company at the table."
"Then I'm sorry I missed it," Arista said, laughing.
"You're forgiven. Mostly."
"Your turn," Bram said. "The university. Is it everything you hoped?"
"Better. And worse." Arista set her cup down. "I found a forge."
"A real one?" Simone asked.
"A farrier named B.B. lets me use his on Tuesdays. I tried to convince him to make horseshoes out of tungsten. He said no. I compromised and offered to make only the bottom part out of tungsten, and he still wouldn't budge."
Bram laughed so hard he had to put his tea down. "Of course you did."
"It would last forever!"
"Did he say why not?" Simone asked.
"He said the horse has to carry it." Arista sighed. "It's a good point. Don't tell him I said that."
"And classes?" Simone asked.
"Engineering Design is wonderful. Differential equations are trying to kill me. And the professor in Engineering Ethics keeps giving me looks."
"What kind of looks?"
"The kind where someone is running a risk assessment on you in real time. Every time he asks for a real example of a safety failure, I have to pick one carefully."
"Which one do you pick?" Bram asked.
"I can't use the railgun. I definitely can't use the mounting rope in the dome ceiling."
Bram closed his eyes. "Thank you."
"So I used the pressure tests." Arista shrugged. "Apparently pushing somebody off a ship to see if they can survive the water pressure isn't very ethical, even when you know they can respawn."
Bram opened one eye. "That was me."
"You were a representative sample."
"I did not consent to that experiment."
"Only the first time," Arista said, a little too happily.
"That is still not how consent works!"
"That's what the professor said," Arista said. "Almost word for word. That's when the looks started."
"I like him," Bram said.
"Oh," Simone said, wiping her eyes and picking up her phone. "We made a list. Baby names. Want to see?"
"Please." Arista scooted closer as Simone pulled up the notes app.
It was a long list, mostly sensible, with several entries struck through in a way that suggested heated negotiation. Thoth had been crossed out twice, with a note beside it: no dragons.
Arista read it again. Her jaw dropped. "...Why isn't Strawberry on here?!"
Bram nearly choked on his tea.
"I am not naming my child after a fruit," Simone said, deadpan, though her eyes were bright with laughter. "Not even a smart fruit."
"She's not just a fruit," Arista protested. "She's a legacy! A metro! A roller coaster spanning three realms!"
"She is, very specifically, a fruit," Simone said. "A wonderful, chaotic, world-altering fruit. Still a fruit."
"I want it on record that I did suggest it," Bram said. "Briefly. She vetoed it faster than the dragon."
"You suggested both in the same conversation. I had one veto available and I had to prioritize."
Arista laughed. "Fine. Not Strawberry. But whatever you pick—" she glanced at the screen and noticed Simone tilting the phone away "—I already know it's going to be perfect."
"The list is a starting point," Simone said, tucking the phone away with a private little smile. "We're waiting to meet them before we decide. Feels right."
"That's sweet," Arista said.
"Don't tell Bram I said that. He'll get insufferable."
"I'm already insufferable about it," Bram said, refilling everyone's tea.
"I'm really happy for you two," Arista said. "Both of you."
"We're happy you found us," Simone said.
Arista smiled as an old memory surfaced at exactly the right moment. "...You know, I just thought of something. Remember when you told me to race you to the golem continent?"
Simone tilted her head. "...Yes?"
"You said, 'See you on the other side.'" Arista gestured at the shop, the tea, the two of them, the baby on the way. "I suppose you were right."
Simone squeezed her hand once, gently. "...I suppose I was."