Folding the Sky

-36-

He wasn't supposed to care.

And yet he did, in the subtlest, most visceral of ways, like a shard of glass had lodged itself somewhere in his flesh: tiny enough that he couldn't pinpoint where it was or how it had gotten there, large enough that it pained him each time he dared to move.

It was more than just uncomfortable; it was plain annoying.

A sneer flickered across Sorin's face before he could stop it. "Having fun, are we?"

"We were—he was—" Zuri stopped, closed her eyes, pushed out a sharp breath. "I can't dance."

A moment passed in which none of them spoke, but Chike let out a snort of laughter.

Zuri turned even redder, and though she opened her mouth to explain further, Aldric cleared his throat. "Everyone should know how to foxtrot, is all," he said, interlacing his hands behind his back, taking a hesitant step away from Zuri and facing Chike instead. "That's a suspiciously large bag you have there. You brought us gifts?"

"Not exactly," Chike said with a sigh, leaving Sorin at the door as he walked over to the pallets, laying the bag down atop them. He undid the zipper with a schwip, revealing the selection of shimmering suits encased within the plastic. "We do have to return them, so try not to mess them up too badly, alright? Here. I picked this one for you."

"You did? Chike, you absolute angel. I was resorting to trying to sew up some of my old pants. You've saved me from humiliation."

As Aldric and Chike huddled over the suits, Aldric's eyes lighting up almost childishly as Chike folded one of the jackets into his hands, Sorin's eyes drifted once more to Zuri. She was lingering at the bottom of the staircase, one delicate hand perched on the rusty banister, the other clutching mindlessly at her collar. Her nerves rippled off of her in waves; Sorin had the bizarre and undeniable thought that she looked...lost.

"What are you trying to tell me?" Aldric said, and Sorin and Zuri sharply looked away from each other again, a tacit conversation already over before it began. "You don't think I could pull off the color red? It's my favorite color, Chike. I take offense from that."

"It's not that," Chike replied gently. "It's just that I picked it for Sorin originally."

Sorin let out a theatrical grumble. He strode to the far corner, within which a motley of dusty, abandoned cardboard boxes and wooden crates congregated. Though he badly wanted to sink into one—small spaces, anywhere where he could feel something brush each one of his limbs, had always made him feel safe—he sat atop one instead, for sake of remaining inconspicuous. "Let him wear it, Chike. I told you already; I don't care."

Aldric humphed. "Seems he does have a kind bone in his body."

"As if I'm doing it for you," said Sorin, bearing his teeth. "I'm not going inside Mulaim, so I don't need the stupid suit anyway."

"Wait," Zuri said, dropping her hand from her collar. Her brows were furrowed dramatically, as though she were trying to make sense of a betrayal. "You never told us this. Why aren't you going in?"

Sorin and Chike shared a look, and for a moment Sorin wondered if the tailor was going to fill Zuri and Aldric in for himself. But he didn't, just shrugged, his dark eyes silently passing the baton into Sorin's hands.

Sorin crossed his legs beneath him. "It's a long story, but in a nutshell I wouldn't be able to morph all that much in that thing. If I can't morph, I'm of virtually no use, so I'll just stay in the tunnel."

"But—"

"No buts, Zuri," he said with a quick shake of his head. "I'll just be a hindrance. In this case you're better off without me."