Sotir was not surprised. He made no effort to pretend the ruse had worked – no wide eyes, no startles. He just smiled, content and a bit embarrassed, probably on their behalf.

Pan watched him from the moment he stepped through the door, but he took a while to notice her. It was then that he looked surprised. His eyes widened. He didn’t think she knew about his birthday, or that she would remember, or maybe, even care.

Pan knew the day now, and she would always remember. Without the party, she would have missed the whole event. It stung to think her mind was so bereft of little facts related to Sotir.

“Don’t frown so much,” Aria said. “It’s not a good party face.”

“Right.” Pan tried to lift her mouth into a neutral position. She wouldn’t find a way to curve it into a smile, until she made amends. “Let’s just sit down and get ready for dinner.”

Aria murmured her agreement and took a seat. Pan grasped the frame of a chair.

“Aria. Pan. Do you want to come sit at the head of the table? With me?”

Pan looked over her shoulder. Sotir had come to beg their company. Pan exchanged a glance with Aria and found Aria’s expression stoney.

“Uh, sure,” Pan said.

She followed Sotir to the top of the table, and Aria followed Pan. They sat in a row. Sotir at the head. Pan to his left, and Aria to Pan’s left. Aria bumped Pan’s arm below the table, probably to scold her for whatever scandalous colors she wore. Pan wondered how scandalous Sotir appeared.

“I didn’t know it was your birthday. I didn’t get you a present, and I ruined your cake.” Pan glanced at a new cake, sitting on a side table. “The original cake. I ruined the original cake.”

Sotir smiled, serene or, maybe, self-satisfied. “That’s alright. I didn’t tell you about my birthday. I didn’t want you to get me anything.”

Pan leaned close. “I would have.”

“I know.”

Aria cleared her throat.

Pan sat back in her chair.

“Hello, Aria. How was your job?” Sotir gave Aria his attention, broken by a short nod and half-smile to another of his friends, a man who took the seat across from Aria.

Aria fiddled with her fork. “It was fine. Exactly as expected, though I found the auras a little too green.”

Food started to pass around the table. Pan skipped a dish of reddish meat. She almost skipped a long green vegetable, but an errant thought of colon cancer made her reconsider. Aria also took the vegetable, and Sotir politely took a bit of both. Another of Sotir’s friends plopped into the seat across from Pan. Pan knew the man as Hagen, the dream invader. She didn’t like him.

“I heard about that future colony job.” Hagen spooned food onto his plate. “That’s going to be a tough one.”

“Probably tiring,” Sotir agreed. He stole a glance at Pan and let his friends carry him away in conversation.

Pan and Aria sat in silence. Aria had nothing to say because she was mad. Pan had nothing to say because she always talked to Sotir one on one. It felt strange to be sitting beside him while others surrounded her. So, she just listened and tried to think of a last-minute present.

She could give him a drawing, something she’d already finished. Pan thought through her pieces. She had nothing recent that didn’t involve ghosts, and all her old work wasn’t worthy to be transferred to Sotir’s hands. Besides, the majority of the old work centered on ghosts too. She had nothing of that nature to give.

Pan could give him a day with her, but nothing special would stem from such a gift. She gave him most of her days, at least the free portions.

Pan ate and pondered. She couldn’t see the point. She had no present, and she’d already told him so. He had said he didn’t want anything from her.

Oh, Sotir, how gracious and selfless of you.

Pan almost gave up the notion of a gift. Then, it hit her. I could…say I’ve changed my mind and would like to live with him. That would be a shining prize in Sotir’s hands, but Pan couldn’t decide if she should give it.

 

Aria picked at her food. She tried not to look between Pan and Sotir. Sotir’s aura brushed Pan’s in shades of pink and his usual cheery yellow. His colors were much too far in Pan’s business for Aria’s taste. She could understand threads of emotion between the two, but Sotir should keep the rest to himself.

Aria couldn’t decide which was worse. Pan had let herself fall for Sotir, but at least, she showed some conflict in her colors. Sotir’s appreciation of Pan was brazen. He didn’t have the slightest concern. It was enough to make Aria lose her appetite.

“Aria…?”

Aria startled. She raised her eyes and saw Sotir’s friend across the table. “Do I know you?”

“Ouch. Yeah, kind of. We’ve never worked together, but I know Uda. I’m an ice shaper, and I sometimes work with her.”

Aria felt her eyes go a bit wider. “Pollon.”

Pollon, a few years older than Aria, had always been kind to her, especially in her younger, messy-haired years, before she had adapted to the change in her sight. Uda used to tease Aria about Pollon, going so far as to suggest that Aria would love to be with him, the same way that Pan now loved to be with Sotir.

“So, you do remember me? I didn’t know that you really knew Sotir.” Pollon narrowed his eyes and showed a curious yellow.

“I work with him sometimes. We met on a big job seven years ago, helping archaeologists with a tomb. I read the remaining auras, and he read the past.” Aria could see a small flush of purple cross her aura.

She thought of the visualization she and Sotir had helped to build. It eventually became a short experience at a museum, complete with video and sound. Aria heard only the sound, but it was like the colors of mourning brought to life.

“I remember that,” Pollon said.

Aria nodded. “It was one of my favorite jobs.”

“We don’t cross paths much.” Pollon might have meant he and Sotir, but his aura suggested he and Aria were the ‘we’ in that sentence. His aura tickled the table as if asking for permission to come closer.

No, you may not. Aria felt her eyes narrow. “Why should we? Our powers don’t mix.”

Pollon’s aura retreated. “Yeah. Uda used to talk about you a lot.” Pollon shrugged. “It made me curious to see your power in action.”

Uda, in her teenage years, had sown a seed of attraction. She’d actually tried to get Pollon to like Aria, to get Aria in trouble. In some ways, it had worked. Aria thought Uda might be headed for a bad trick from Pan, and Aria wasn’t about to stop it.

“There isn’t much action to my power. There’s nothing to see,” Aria said.

“That’s not true. Read my aura for me. What’s it look like?” Pollon’s color consisted of a friendly green, a gentle blue, and a hint of rose.

“I…don’t read auras on my off time.” Aria looked at her plate and could still see some of Pollon’s aura on the table.

It receded. “Sorry. So, what do you do for fun?”

Aria froze. She didn’t know how to answer that question. She spent time with Pan mostly. She listened to music and stories read aloud. There wasn’t much else.

Pollon laughed, an awkward sound. “Don’t you do anything for fun?”

Aria raised her eyes. “Of course.” Now, she had to find a way to make her average day sound like it contained fun.

 

The cake started its rounds, and Pan had to admit it was inferior to the one she’d dropped.

She leaned close to Sotir, amid the confusion of cake-filled plates. “I’m sorry about the cake and your lack of gift. I might live with you to make up for it.”

Sotir’s eyes snapped to hers. “Make a promise of it, and I’ll hold you to it.”

Pan felt her innards do a flip. She held Sotir’s gaze, until a plate of cake hovered near. The dessert caught her eyes. Pan reached for it, but Sotir snatched the plate out of her hands.

The lights went out. A long moment of darkness followed as Pan’s eyes adjusted to the candlelight. Her cake slid into place before her.

“I didn’t want you to drop it again,” Sotir said. “Power’s out.”

“I can see that.” Pan picked up her fork. She didn’t need light to eat cake. “Why is the power out?”

Sotir gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t really care to look.”

“Let’s all finish our dessert so we can head to the lounge,” a mentor called over the flurry of annoyed and frightened voices.

“And tell ghost stories!” Someone shouted.

Pan felt the first bite of her cake had been ruined. Someone just had to suggest ghost stories.

“Sorry, Pan,” Aria whispered.

Pan grunted her muffled agreement.