After a few minutes of sitting on the curb and feeling miserable, Alice feels her phone buzz. Hauling herself back to her feet, she leans against the side of the bus stop and checks her notifications. Blinking at the top sits a new text message from an unsaved number -- but upon opening the message, Alice’s message logs flash up a history of brief messages with this number. A quick scroll through confirms it -- this is Oliver’s old number, though his contact was deleted when Alice got her new phone. Apparently he (She? They? He for now.) still doesn’t do things halfway -- the newest message was two full paragraphs long.

"Hello, Alice, this is Oliver. I apologize thoroughly for my reaction earlier; please understand that I bear you personally no ill will, but was simply shocked by the twin circumstances of meeting an old colleague as well as my secret identity failing on me. Rest assured that I am, indeed, pleased to know that you are well, and that I could help provide support when needed.

I don’t doubt that you have questions formed by seeing my alter ego; as I am given to understand that secrecy in such matters seldom ends well, I would disclose any and all relevant information to you. In exchange, I ask that you keep such matters confidential, at least for the time being. You may ask any relevant questions via text, or we may meet in person at a neutral location to discuss face-to-face. Thank you.”

That sure sounded like him, alright. Even as far back as elementary school, he wrote as though he had a thesaurus in his lap at all times, flicking back and forth to find the most polite way to get his point across. Even when talking aloud, that style of communication tended to bleed in. Alice scans the text over a few times, making absolutely certain that she understands the meaning, before typing up a reply.

“Hi, Oliver, it’s good to hear from you! I’m in the same boat -- I was surprised to see you, but am very thankful for your help. If you don’t mind, could we meet at this coffeehouse in about 20 minutes?” [Attached Link: Google Maps Destination (Blue Jay Cafe, Portland)]

Oliver’s way of talking always tended to be contagious -- after all, Alice certainly doesn’t want to come off as rude to him, especially not with how he reacted earlier. For a moment, she hesitates, her finger hovering over the Send button, but ultimately curiosity won out. Besides, Alice muses, if this truly were a breach of privacy, he wouldn’t have offered to share “any and all” details with her -- ah, and he wouldn’t have responded “Certainly, see you soon” just now. Standing back up straight, Alice looks both ways to check for traffic, and sets off to the coffee shop.

Sixteen minutes later, Alice steps through a set of heavy oak doors, setting a little bell jingling. Her concerns about being early were apparently unfounded -- at the furthest table from the entrance, in a casual polo and jeans, sits Oliver, nervously lifting a hand to wave to her.

He looks almost the same as back in high school -- still wearing his hair long, still scrunching his eyes at the corners when he smiles, still a little on the huskier side, still slouching and drawing his shoulders in to make his already short frame look even smaller. Alice returns the greeting, and steps in line to grab a drink, and maybe a snack too.

“Thank you for being willing to chat,” Alice leads, nodding to Oliver as she settles into the over-upholstered chair. “I want to start by saying thank you -- can we split my muffin or something?”

Oliver lifts a hand and shakes his head. “I’m flattered, but if I insisted on payment for every time I helped someone, it wouldn’t be volunteering, now would it? If you want to repay me, help someone else out.” Was he always this much of a bleeding heart? He seems more confident than she remembered. Noticing Alice’s curiosity, he smiles softly. “And I’d like to start by thanking you for not immediately posting online about what you saw.”

Now it’s Alice’s turn to act modest. “The bar is so low. I’d have to be pretty coldhearted to air out someone’s business like that.” Besides, if she was angling for that, she could get more clout by ingratiating herself to him first.

“Even so.” Oliver shrugs and sips his coffee. “There are plenty who lack that restraint. At the very least, I’d like to show my appreciation by answering any questions I can.” Putting his coffee down, he motions for Alice to go ahead.

“Right. Well…” Alice’s mind races. Weeks of digging and here the answers are, right in front of her! “Let’s start from the top. You are Sky Horizon, yes? That’s always you in the suit?”

Oliver’s eyes widen just a hair at the title, and he looks back and forth to make sure nobody is looking at them, but he nods. “That’s precisely right. Back in high school, I made that suit from scratch for the purposes of a Halloween costume, but ended up continuing work on it as a passion project throughout college. Nowadays, I spend some time each day doing, effectively, volunteer work around the area.”

Alice nods, filing that information away right next to the screen-crush she’d unintentionally cultivated for the masked heroine. “Why?”

Oliver shrugs. “As in, why do I volunteer? Because I enjoy it, of course. When I’m able to help someone, I get so excited that I can’t help but crack a smile… not that you can see it, with the mask on.” That last bit sets him chuckling at himself.

“Yeah, no, that part makes sense -- why do you need a superhero suit to volunteer? It seems like a ton of extra effort.” Alice winces. “Er, if that’s not too blunt.”

“Ah.” Oliver pauses for a moment, smile fading. “I… suppose I don’t particularly need the suit, really. I could claim that it helps add excitement to peoples’ days, or that people are more likely to accept help from someone with a heroic look to them, but realistically…” He shrugs, looking away to intently examine the kitschy signs plastered all over the cafe. “It… it’s selfishness on my part, I admit. I likely wouldn’t feel quite so motivated to get out and help if it weren’t for the suit, so it does make a difference, but the difference is purely personal preference.”

Alice nods along. “OK, I see.” Oliver seemed uncomfortable answering that -- no point in pushing him. “In that case…” She freezes. “Wait, side question. What are your pronouns?”

Oliver tilts his head, genuinely curious. “Pronouns? Like I, me, my?”

“Like gendered-wise. I prefer people to refer to me by ‘she’ and ‘her’. Do you have a preference…?”

“I… suppose not, no? I’ve grown used to people calling me by ‘he’ -- Oh. Ohhhh, because Sky Horizon looks and sounds-” Oliver and Alice both nod vigorously. “I can see why that might confuse you. Simply put, well… I believe that the world needs more female superheroes. As I don’t particularly need my alter ego to be a deep reflection of myself, I may as well be the change I want to see in the world.”

“Huh.” For the life of her, Alice can’t tell if Oliver is being genuine or making up an excuse. Turning over what she knew of Oliver in high school in her head, she picks at her muffin and considers a diplomatic response. “It sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into that.” Even if he is being evasive, some of the things he could be making excuses for are none of her business.

“I suppose.” Oliver takes another gentle sip of his coffee. “But then, I’ve put a lot of thought into every part of my work. So, to answer your earlier question, I myself am fine with ‘he’ and ‘his’, but prefer ‘she’ while in the suit, if that makes sense.”

“It does, thank you!” Satisfied with a way to refer to him, and relieved she didn’t put him on the spot, Alice pops a hunk of muffin in her mouth. “So, jumping off of that, how does the suit do all that to your body? Not just getting taller and skinnier, but you’re faster, stronger…”

“Not so fast or strong as to exit the realm of human possibility, mind you.”

“You took a bus to the head.”

Oliver grimaces at that. “Fair point. Does the term “Quorium” mean anything to you?”

Alice pauses, squinting from mental review -- or at least pretending to. She’s never heard the word in her life, but no point seeming stupid in front of Oliver. “I’ve heard it once or twice in a science journal or something. What does it mean?”

Oliver dabs at his mouth with a napkin. “To summarize, it’s a highly powerful, highly experimental, highly volatile power source. This may be presumptuous, but I’m actually a bit surprised you haven’t heard of it -- there was an industrial accident involving it in this very city just two years ago.”

“You shouldn’t be too surprised -- I’ve only been in town for five or six weeks.” Alice winks conspiratorially. “I’m out of the loop on the Portland lore.”

“Oh, I see!” Oliver smiles broadly. “Well, it’s good to have you here. Where are you staying?”

The question sucks the wind right out of Alice’s sails. “Oh, you know. I have a place over on, ah, Eighth and Walnut.”

Oliver’s smile drops, replaced with confusion. “I don’t know where either of those are.”

“Well, you know how it is.” Alice shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “It’s a big city. You probably just haven’t been on that side of town before.” She cannot get into it right now. This conversation is not about her.

“It is a big city, I’ll grant you…” Oliver gives her an askance look, all but stabbing her in the heart. “But I spend nearly all of my days exploring it. Is… everything alright, Alice?”

“That—”

“Ah!” Oliver lifts his hands up and scoots his chair back. “I’m sorry if I’m prying.”

Alice leans back, sighs deeply, and looks around the room before finally meeting his eyes. “I… don’t have anywhere to stay right now. I’m kind of stuck.”

Oliver blinks once. “My sympathies. Could I help?”

Alice looks back at him like he grew a second head. “Help?” She was expecting something more like pity, or platitudes. 

 “Well, certainly. Would you be comfortable, ah, ‘crashing on my couch’ until you have more stable accommodations?”

Alice recoils. “What? Just like that?” An honest-to-god place to stay. The biggest leak in her finances, plugged. It’s everything she could ask for and more, right now. All by someone who she knows is going to refuse payment.

“Just like that.” Oliver nods flatly. “If and only if you’re okay with it, mind, I would hate to pressure you.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I trust you, just…” Alice looks away, blinking back emotion. “We just met. Why would you offer something like that just off the cuff?”

Oliver looks at her like she said something strange. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”