After Party

Murph stretched out on the pew in his office, hiding from the latest social obligation. Earlier today, only a week after the Emergence startled and captivated humanity, their media conglomerate unveiled the next phase in their long-range plan.

Levity Highwind-Jones would be lead reporter for the Emergent , a news outlet focused on all things Amaranthine.

Two new reporters—both members of the clans—had been introduced earlier in a televised interview, and all had gone as well as it could. They'd also hired two reavers, an avian courier, and a moth chronicler.

Everyone was upstairs in the swanky reception room of the Parsnip for a combined welcome and after party.

The faint ding of the elevator was followed by Levity's familiar stride. And then her scent. Murph was learning to trust his nose more than any human should.

"Here you are," she said softly. "Why did you run off?"

"Swank," he said, not bothering to open his eyes. "Earliest on record in a bit of burlesque about a swanking trollop. First referred to a showy display, not always in good taste. Though more recently, there's a connotation of fashionability and even elegance."

"And you don't do swank?"

"I'm the farthest thing from ritzy."

"Or glitzy?"

He smiled and cracked an eye. "'Tis a fine thing, to be understood."

Levity's yellow skirt swirled as she knelt beside him. "Well, I'm the farthest thing from ditzy."

"I'm officially on the fritz."

"Nonsense, you're as ‘buirdly, steeve, an' swank as an auld mare.'"

He was too delighted by her reference to the alternate usage of swank to be offended over being compared to a lady horse. All at once, he wanted to kiss her. It felt like the right thing to do, so he reached up, brushing the curve of her cheek.

Silver eyes smiled, and she was leaning close.

He whispered, "I might be in love," against her lips.

"Surely the new editor-in-chief of the Emergent can come up with a stronger headline for that sentiment."

Murph growled. It just sort of slipped out. He really couldn't predict them, which was worrisome. But this one was well-timed. And heartfelt. Because he wanted Levity to stay where she was and to pay heed to what he had to say.

"Don't take editors lightly, Levity Highwind-Jones. I can do better. Let me up."

She sat back on her heels, head tilting to an expectant angle. Her tail lightly thumped the floor in a tattoo of encouragement.

He rolled upright on the pew, his stockinged feet hitting the floor. Tempting as it was to sneak a proper kiss, he stood and crossed to his desk, where his twelfth gift waited. Dropping onto his desk chair, he rotated her way and held out a velvet box. "For you."

She sniffed the plush and even pet it before opening. From inside, she lifted the antique silver chain from which a sphere of milky stone hung. Koogan had offered up the necklace, which was an honest-to-goodness family heirloom. Or pack heirloom, if there was such a thing.

Her smile was captivating.

He'd been accepted, and Murph could've left it there, knowing they had an understanding. But words were his way. He couldn't let this moment go unremarked.

"I'm glad. I'm gladder than glad. The most gladsome man alive." Murph gestured between them. "I never understood why it was always you, but … egads, woman. It always will be."

Levity crooked a finger. "Help me put it on."

Murph did so, dropping a shy kiss on her shoulder. He hadn't dared before this.

Letting her hair drop, Levity pulled him down beside her on the pew. "First, are we keeping this a secret?"

"No?"

"Excellent! Selfie time!"

He was only a little bit incredulous. This was Levity, and she would always be Levity.

The whole time her phone made shutter sounds, he ignored the camera, smiling at her instead. Which became as much his thing as yellow was hers.

Murph nuzzled her ear and counted himself fortunate while Levity turned him into a headline. One they could share.

Two Stories Become One

THE END