Something complicated played over their face, but Dex couldn’t decipher it before it was gone. “I should probably get home,” they finally said, twisting one of their bracelets around their wrist.
“Okay,” he said easily, bumping their shoulder with his. “Have a good weekend.”
He’d only taken a few steps when Cya called out, “What film?”
Grinning, he half-turned toward them. “I dunno. Some teenie-bop musical with the latest tween heartthrob because”—he started to sign as he imitated his sister—“‘Oh em geez, Dex, he’s just so hot! He donates to charities that help illiterate orphans or abused animals or something, and if I ever saw him in person, I would just die, oh my gods!’” He dropped his hands to his hips, voice returning to normal. “At least, that’s what Jasmyn says.”
To his delight, an incredulous laugh burst from Cya’s throat, and they covered their mouth with a hand to silence it. His tail wagged as he chuckled along with them.
“Well, that sounds riveting,” they eventually said as they brushed flyaways out of their face. “Can’t imagine saying no to watching a tween heartthrob sing.”
“He probably has really swoopy hair and a patchy goatee too.”
A heavily-ringed hand came to rest on their chest as they deadpanned, “Well, if that doesn’t convince me, what could?”
“Oh, so that’s your type? Prepubescent-stache-chic?” He stumbled back when Cya lunged toward him, moving faster than he thought they were capable of, to smack his arm.
“Shut up! That’s horrendous,” they hissed as he burst into laughter. “Someone could hear you.”
“Hey, I’m not judging. Whatever trips your trigger—ow!” He jumped away to escape Cya’s tail, which had whipped out to strike him in the leg. “Watch it with that thing! Your rattle is deceptively hard.”
“Let that be a lesson to you not to piss me off,” they sniffed haughtily.
“Sure, sure. So you coming or what?” He gestured in the direction of the Gluttony platform as the overhead speaker announced a final call.
Conflicted, Cya worked their jaw as they contemplated, then they wobbled their shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “I guess.”
They caught the train right as the doors were closing, and he followed the Sypent to two empty seats. He tripped over a threshold strip with a yelp, collapsing clumsily into the spot beside Cya, and they bit their bottom lip as they snuffled a laugh.
“Graceful.”
“Whatever, captain fancy pants.”
Posture straight, chin high, they said, “I don’t wear pants.”
“Whoa, was that a joke?”
They inspected their nails. “Jokes are a foolish man’s humor.”
Dex pressed his mouth to the back of his hand and blew, making a wet fart noise, and Cya reared back in offense.
“Excuse you?”
“That’s the noise I’m gonna make every time you say something snobby and prepentuous,” he explained gleefully.
“You mean pretentious,” they said, and he released another fart sound much to their dismay. “You’re a disgusting child.”
“And you’re uptight,” he retorted, ignoring the warning rattle of their tail. “You gotta loosen up. Live a little. Learn to have fun.”
“I know how to have fun,” they grumbled under their breath.
“If you say so,” he said diplomatically, snickering quietly when they hissed wordlessly at him. “So what is rich people humor, then? Since you can’t make jokes.”
Tucking a chunk of hair that had fallen out of their braid behind their ear, they said, “Clever wit and disparaging comments, of course.”
“Bet you’re super fun at parties,” he murmured, snickering to himself when they huffed wordlessly and glared out the window.
They lapsed into silence, and slowly, Cya relaxed out of their stiff posture. Their arms dropped, hands landing in their lap where they twirled a gold-braided bracelet around their wrist.
