Cogheart

Chapter Five: A Fresh New Face

As we ride through the streets of Cog with the gear motor on low, Iris nervously tugs my cloak over her face. I'd given her my cloak earlier as we were leaving as a disguise for her face, and she hasn't taken it off since. I keep the gear bike going at a slow speed, shuddering up the cobbled streets and watching vendors and buyers walk by. Though scared and overwhelmed, Iris seems enchanted by it all- eagerly pointing at various stalls and squealing at this and that. I catch Ambrose glancing fondly at the new girl over her shoulder a grin- but she only glares and recedes back into her seat. 

"We ought to get some food before we're back," I tell them. "We can pick up something from one of the food stalls." 

From beneath the cloak's folds, I see Iris's eyes go wide and her left one shine with excitement. "You mean it?" she whispers eagerly into my ear. "There's so many booths! How do you even decide?" 

"When Wesley's cooking is the only other option, we end up eating out a lot," Ambrose snickers. 

"Who's Wesley?" she asks. "Does he live with you?" 

"Part of the time," I reply. "He sleeps over with us a lot, but some days of the week he has to go home and live with his father and sister." 

"He's a bad cook, I take it?" she giggles. I grin. "Terrible. But don't tell him I said that." 

"He already knows," crows Ambrose. "I take care to remind him every time he uses the kitchen." 

I roll my eyes in dismay. "At least Arthur and Gwyn are nice to him about it." 

"Oh, please. Gwyn just sits there trying to contain laughter the entire time." 

I wrench the handle of the gear bike and turn into a pavilion that houses several different market stalls, the smell of greasy food, cacti juice and cooking oil already thick in the air. Smoke wafts from various stalls, and hungry teens and young adults are already forming large queues that stretch in twisting lines across the streets and sidewalks. Being a stall owner in the pavilion is a difficult spot to get, but once you have one, you're as good as wealthy. With so many craving decent food and less and less young teens gaining the ability to cook for themselves, street food stalls have become more popular than ever. 

All of a sudden, Iris grips my shoulder with her clammy, pale hands. "What is... sugar cane juice?" she squints at the board above Ambrose's all time favorite spot. "Can we try it?" she speaks with the air of a hopeful six year old begging for a toy in the window of a store.

Ambrose jumps on her suggestion, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. "Don't disappoint the guest Cecile. Why don't we go to to Estrella and Lyna's?" she bats her eyelashes innocently, knowing full well that 'guest' is a cover for 'Ambrose'. 

But with the two of them making eyes at me like abandoned puppies, I'm completely out of luck for arguing. I groan. "Fine. Lyna's it is. Ambrose, I hope you get food poisoning, choke and die. Iris, I really hope you enjoy your drink."

Ambrose blows me a mocking kiss. "My stomach is way too strong for any of these amateurs. Not sure about little miss rich over here." she slaps Iris on the back in what's supposed to be a friendly gesture, though she doesn't smile at her. "But, you know. Live and learn, I guess. Hope you can handle it!" 

Iris suddenly looks less eager than she was two seconds prior, but shrugs. "It's been a weird day. Why not?" 

"There's the spirit." Ambrose is already in line, pulling out her leather coin purse and bouncing back and forth on the heels of her feet. She knows the menu by heart, doesn't even need to read it. Neither do I. We've been coming to Mama Lina's for longer than I can remember. Though I enjoy ordering something new every time, and we make a game out of the fact that she can never guess what I want.