(Live rp with Jezebel. Thank you for the play!)

Down the stones of the marketplace was a fountain, and not far from it were kiosks which sold a number of things. Some seemed to be for tourists, teenagers, or someone on a tight budget. Other items were food, or miracles that were certainly being sold for less than they were worth. Some of the reputable shops did that sort of business with the kiosks to broaden their exposure, especially if their shop was on a street that didn?t warrant as much foot traffic.

In a bright aqua vest over his clean black t-shirt, the Dark Man occasionally watched over such kiosks. The work was infrequent, irrational, but the money still had a weight he needed. With Penny in classes, Ame was strapped to his back in a cloth sling, a floppy green cotton hat atop his head to keep the sun off of him. Tag tried to pace in whatever shade was available, even if sunscreen had been applied to the boy?s fair skin. Too often did women rush to him, intent on warning him that children would burn more easily than expected. The sun was a fire, one they should be kept safe from.

The toes of his aqua shoes curled up, like that of a strange elf. His pants were long and loose just before bunching up at his ankles, looking wrinkled up at the mouth like a balloon which had been tightly secured. The owner of the kiosk had something of an Arabic theme, but the application was awkward and somehow insincere. He didn?t know why, just that the weight of the vest was wrong.

When Ame gurgled impatiently for lunch, he took him from the sling at his back and cradled him at his chest, bouncing to soothe him until the kiosk owner appeared. Tag shouldered his bag and the owner smiled, briskly, to one of his many employers. There were nods between them and he went to the nearby sandwich shop, buying something to drink. It wasn?t glamorous, changing diapers and bottle feeding a boy that spit up whatever was given to him a quarter of the time. The formula ended up everywhere. The disgruntled murmurs of the child were eased by the air conditioning of the shop, the change and the food. It was still nearly twenty minutes before his bad attitude was resolved. Children were like that, their moods were temperamental and glacial at the same time.

He spread a baby blanket on the floor, a few of his son?s favorite toys on there as well. Acrame wled to them, happy for the familiar objects. He stood now, walking with the assistance of a wall or chair. Occasionally he took steps into the world, as monumental as a moon landing.

In the final calm of the moment, Tag tried. Texting felt difficult. It felt like an old memory that left him discouraged. Penny had rolled her eyes, but then again she didn?t understand. Her youth made sympathy difficult, he knew.

Text to Jezebel: Dear Jezebel. This is Tag Sentry. I was working in the marketplace today and thought you might want company for lunch. It would be me and my son, but he is very young. Please join us if you want. Thank you, Tag.

It was the kind of warm early afternoon that drew Jezebel outdoors, into the waiting embrace of the sun. In a pair of short shorts and a breezy baby doll tank top, more honey gold skin was exposed to its seductive rays than normal while she ran her errands. Her spun-copper, fire licked locks were pulled up in a braided bun, a few tendrils pulled deliberately free to frame her face, to keep the hairstyle from seeming severe. Dark sunglasses dominated her face in a tortoise-shell frame that hid irises of liquid gold.

There was a shopping bag in pale blue canvas slung over one shoulder, and the harlot paused on her glidepath from one shop to the next. A vibrating pulse against her left hip had her dipping one hand under the gauzy fall of her shirt, delving into the pocket of her shorts to retrieve her cellphone. It didn?t go off very often - there were only a handful of people who had the number, and most of them were accounted for already.

Stepping into the shadow of a storefront awning, Jezebel slid her sunglasses up on her forehead and read the incoming message. Her smile spread slowly, gone soft and runny in the noonday heat. Everything about it was charming, from calling her ?dear? to using what was ostensibly his last name. His ?very young son? more or less sealed the deal. She hit reply, then typed in a quick message:

Text to Tag: It is lovely to hear from you. I?m in the marketplace already, and would be glad to join you and your young son. Thank you for the invitation. Where shall I find you?

Text to Jezebel Thank you for the message. We are at Adele?s Deli, it is not far from the fountain. Tag.

His informal response seemed to say ?tag, you?re it? instead of merely being a signature. The deli was not busy, but this wasn?t the sort of day that was. The owner of the Kiosk prefered to work the busy shifts, believing that his charm and candor would sell far more items than Tag would. Still, everyone needed time off, and good help was hard to find. Tag may not have sold a staggering amount of inventory, but items never went missing and all the money at the end of the day could be accounted for. Often, being responsible was something met with shrugs and eye rolls. In reality? It was rare to meet anyone who maintained it, even for the benefit of a single trinket.

His hands dropped, catching Ame under the arms so he could walk more smoothly. His first steps had happened already, he was on the way to becoming dangerously mobile. He said the words in a sing-song voice, ?O namae wa nan desu ka? Ammmmeee?.Ame. O namae wa nan desu ka? Ammmeee? ameee.? His boy smiled and cried out as if he understood, walking and then bouncing and, eventually, insisting that he sit because all of the walking business had become less amusing than the scattering of toys on his blanket. Tag relented, letting the boy crawl and rediscover the toys he already knew.

A charmed smile pulled at full lips, spreading them across her teeth as she read the next incoming message. It was the kind of smile you wore when someone you liked did something adorable. Swiping the pad of her thumb over the message, the touch was a caress, almost like she could reach him through his words.

Jezebel slipped the phone back into her pocket and pulled her sunglasses back down onto her nose, raking her fingers through heavy fiery strands once, both to resettle them into place and for the artificial breeze it lifted across the back of her neck. She glanced up at the closest street sign, orienting herself, and then approached a passerby with a polite question about the location of the deli. Touching the stranger lightly on the arm when the directions were shared, she smiled warmly as she turned away, leaving the woman puzzled and just a little bit dazed, a pleased smile on her face.

She wasn?t far. One block and then another, a right turn and then the sign. She pushed the door open, a blast of refrigerator air slapping her playfully in the face, and lifted her sunglasses up onto the top of her head once more as she stepped inside. She looked around once, letting her eyes adjust to the relative gloom of artificial lighting.

Ame roamed the world his baby blanket allowed for, intrigued by all the items that were different. He was happy not to be a sack-bundled at Tag?s back anymore, observing the world as a man in a straight jacket might. Now items could be shoved into his mouth and his arms and legs could stretch and feel for everything.

That is, until Tag reached down, reorienting him. The world, apparently, was flat, and existed on that square of cloth.

She entered just as he was making that first correction. Ame tended to look confused, sometimes minorly perturbed, that the world had been turned around. Usually a shake of a toy caused his attention to return to those more entertaining things instead of how the square of blanket never disappeared from underneath him, no matter how he crawled.

This was his warning for her. His son was young. He had been too preoccupied to check his messages for a response, but there was some surprise in the dark of his eyes at how quickly she had found the place.

?I? haven?t ordered.? The fire of her always felt like a premonition, a wave which caused him to hesitate.

?Volatile and passionate are not quite the same, Tag.? She said softly. Perhaps she was reading into his silence, the way he seemed to reflect heavily on what she?d said without quite objecting. The words were gentle, not designed to correct or admonish him, only to point out that she knew a thing or two about him that wasn?t readily available. Gardeners tended the soil, confident in their knowledge that powerful things happened under the surface, the burgeoning of life, unseen from above.

Jezebel finished the last of her sandwich as she nodded, wiping her other hand on her napkin before she stretched it out to Ame as well, an offer. ?I can take him for a moment, so you can finish your food in peace?? She offered warmly, and it went beyond polite. Her enchantment with the young child was not an act, so many polished mirrors. Her firelit eyes flickered with genuine interest.

?English has a way of being nuanced.? Nuanced. It was a word he had learned when he was trying to grasp something which was subtle. It had been the librarian at Penny?s school who had said the word first. Tag thought that it sounded French, but he could never be sure. What he knew of French came from clips of film and the rare moment that he had heard someone speak it. Beyond that, there were the countless, cheap impersonations of it.

The impulse to hold tightly onto Ame was mostly from being a parent, from that protective rise of emotion pushing through him to prevent any outside force from interacting. A parent could protect a child from everything, even from who they were. Jezebel was not a wolf, and though he felt her heat like a warning she was a low-lit fire, offering warmth instead of blisters.

He did not want to doubt the world forever, and though he was not ready, he lifted Ame from beneath his arms towards Jezebel, so that she could hold him. This was to Ame?s delight, his intention to grab at her hair was broadly forecasted with chubby, wriggling fingers and the way his black eyes fixed on her. She had welcomed the banana child into her arms and he wondered, briefly, how many traces of it she would find on herself, like the fingerprints a criminal left behind.

?Thank you.? He didn?t entirely relax, but eating was much, much easier.

Banana prints would without doubt be some of the most innocuous stains ever left on her body; Jezebel accepted the little boy and his incurrent risks with equal enthusiasm. She caught him around the middle, her warm fingers sliding up underneath his father?s as the baby?s weight changed hands. Pulling Ame into her lap, she held him close to her chest for a moment, fans of golden lash fluttering as she lowered her head to breathe in the scent of him. He was banana and sunscreen, that undefined baby smell that could trigger certain hormones and just the barest wisp of the scent of his father, which could trigger certain others.

The harlot smiled, disarmed. The baby seized a mashed banana-caked fistfull of fire red strands like gossamer silk, giving a little squeal of delight.

?Oh no, I?ve been captured!? she exclaimed in her soft, musical voice that lilted like song lyrics. Resettling the boy more loosely on her lap, one arm enveloped him protectively, the fingers of the other danced before his eyes, enticing him to let go of her hair in favor of their wiggling movement.

The child held much of her interest, but eyes of smoldering amber drifted across the table?s surface to his father. ?He?s a wonderful boy. You must be so proud.?

Ame was delighted. He wasn't hot and bored, strapped to his father's back. The air was cool and the new person amused him. His squeal of laughter threatened to tear a hole through the air. Tag chewed through his food, at times it seemed he might have smiled distantly if not for chewing. He was almost to his last bite when the great burst of energy and joy from the boy began to sour. The world had gotten considerably less enjoyable. The boy?s mouth shriveled and at that point he wanted only one person. Where was Dad?

Tag finished chewing and stood up, leaning down to reclaim him, ?I think we need to go to the bathroom.? Ame usually had a good disposition. Tag was lucky, he was not as fussy as most, and did fall into the misfortune of acid reflux from the formula. Ame?s good-nature was above average, except he did not tolerate, at all, a soggy diaper. That tended to be the reason for his howls of indignation.

?One moment,? he shouldered the diaper bag and, before Ame could get too dramatic, quickened his pace with the boy in his arms to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later they returned, the boy?s morale improved. The dark man tried to set the boy back on his blanket. For the time being, that worked. He wasn't demanding a rematch with Jezebel just yet.

Understanding in her eyes, she handed the child back to his father with no protest, only catching up a few strands of fiery silk to disentangle them from Ame?s fingers before they turned away. While they were gone, she drank from her water and picked pieces of moist banana from her hair, giving another set of patrons who came in a warm smile of greeting.

Tag returned and set his son back down on the blanket, Jezebel shifted at an angle in her chair so she was partially turned towards him and partially towards Ame. ?How long is your lunch break?? She asked, tilting her head to look over at the elder Sentry.

?An hour,? he arranged the diaper bag in the seat next to him and began digging around the bag?s pockets. Eventually he produced a colorful tube that was splashed with a neon orange color, and squirted the thick, white paste in his hand. The smell was unmistakable, synonymous with pools, coconuts and warmth. He rubbed the slippery sunscreen between his fingers and then bent down, pestering Ame by smoothing it over his arms and face. Ame found the whole moment to be an interruption of his fun, just not enough that he was willing to do more than make disgruntled noises that eased once Tag left him alone.

?Did? you enjoy the sandwich?? Jezebel must have known, for a long time, how often a gaze might pause on her. That it would say to her more than words could. She did not dismiss it as not being enough, but responded as if they were sparks which could be smothered or fed air. He appreciated that some part of her leaned back, gently, and let the sparks grow cold. There was every opportunity for her to be predatory, yet she never seemed tempted. She did not want for sex, or money, but there was a want that pulled at everyone. Somewhere, the gravity of a dead moon tugged on him. He could easily believe a fire might set him free, but that all seemed to be an exchanging of wounds.

Jezebel was a pause in the breath for many, but there was a crinkle of a boy?s grip in her red hair, marked by a hint of banana that refused to be easily wiped away. There was her own boy she had mentioned, a child she must have regarded well because her gaze on Ame did not struggle to withhold pain. She held him easily, as if all children warranted love.

Sunscreen was as foreign to her as the gazes were familiar: she knew what it was and what it was used for, but to watch it actually be put to use on someone this way was sort of fascinating. She was charmed by the way the little boy objected without really fussing, like his father was embarrassing or impeding him but not causing him actual distress.

Her gaze lifted to Tag periodically. Sometimes she caught the fleeting gaze and sometimes she didn't, but every time she did she met him with an earnest smile, and the sense was there that she was always aware of it. Her smile spread when he asked her about the sandwich. ?I enjoyed it very much, and I'm so glad that you wanted to spend your lunch hour with me.? Her soft, rhythmic laugh filled the space between them. ?I fear I haven't been a very attentive date, however, ? she went on, her gaze easing past him to Ame. ?--your son has stolen most of my attention.?

?He is more charming,? he admitted, looking down at Ame and then back to her, ?and tends to steal attention.? The corners of his mouth hinted upward, nearly a smile except that it was interrupted by checking his phone. Time was already bleeding away, ?Thank you for joining us.? To stoke the fires of Ame?s agitation came the application of a hat which he tugged on over the child's nearly bald head. With that, Tag fed him into the sling carrier, standing up to finally shift the boy to his back.

After a few cries of protest Ame decided that he had wanted a nap, anyway, and that the arrangement would do.

Date. The word struck him, but he found himself unable to say anything about it. Somewhere in the back of his throat came a guilty salt, bordered with an interested adrenaline.

?I don't know about more charming,? countered Jezebel with a laugh that was warm and uplifting, like the sun bursting through the clouds. ?But he does assert his desire for attention well.? The smolder he so feared was there in the edges of her smile, but she let it recede, never quite stoking the coal to full blown flame.

Watching him situate the boy on his back, she stepped close as Ame began to blink sleepily. She was in Tag's physical space the same way she had been when they danced,their bodies mere inches apart as she lifted one arm to reach over his shoulder. The impression of her warmth was there in the small space between them, almost tangible, as she drew a fingertip gently down the baby's cheek and crooned a few words to him in what had to have been her native tongue.

Date. Jezebel had intended it casually, but as the baby drifted off under the warmth of her touch, her gaze slipped back to his black eyed father. ?Anytime.?

She leaned into Ame. She leaned into him. As her fingertip drew along the side of his son?s face, he found himself leaning into the draw of her like a tide was bringing his feet in. Suddenly, he was aware of how close they were. Of how she sparked and smelled, of how she almost felt like a promise. The story was one he was certain many had felt before, but he was unable to discern what she felt from what she projected. He felt the hook of her, catching him under the jaw, telling him that if only he angled his head right that he could kiss her.

He couldn?t. The weight around his neck, the guilt in his mouth, caused his head to bow down and keep his dark eyes tracking the... nuances of the ground. He had done that in his youth. He had measured a thousand items on the floor and had known, intimately, the length of every tile.

Somewhere a fire was burning. He stepped to the side without expanding the distance between them, like a dance where he shifted their world in a slightly different direction. Ame had been happy for play time and distractions but now everything other than what he wanted felt annoying. Ame reached for Jezebel once and then, rediscovered the label poking out from the collar of his dad?s shirt, hegrabbed it and gave a tug.

?It was nice.? He felt the ripple of the cloth at the back of his neck and tried not to let his face falter.

The dark man stepped aside. Jezebel gave him a reassuring smile once more, full of her warmth but in its more restrained, safer capacity, the warmth she bestowed on his son. Her head tilted sidelong, following his movement, and she took a step back to accommodate him.

Re-establishing space between them, she hoped that would give him the air he needed to breathe, to grieve. Her smile was gentle, her voice soft. ?Perhaps we can have lunch again another time.?

?I?d like that. I?ll write you.? He didn?t know if he felt ease at the space reestablished between them. He thought of her warmth like a gently made promise, urging him closer. Was that how moths felt just before they were incinerated? If there was malice, he had not felt it. All that he could give her was already there, and yet she smiled. She encouraged.

His half smile for her was brief. He glanced over his shoulder when he stepped out of the deli, uncertain why he felt a sense of relief.