[b]Pink:[/b]

Through the checkpoint, the Costa-Silva compound is an overgrown hacienda. Functionally, that lush green wall of palms and ferns block line of sight from the exterior wall. They block sound, too, it’s quiet in the grounds. 

But it is also beautiful, and that is its own justification. The distressed stone pillars wrapped in flowering vines around the garden, the goats grazing the overgrown meadow grass instead of a neatly manicured lawn, the pistachio trees around the outer courtyard. 

It’s very un-Hermes. Even much of the park space in the district is recreational centers, arcades, libraries, tool sheds. Outside of a few Tokyo-style garden oases, nature is too understimulating and low-density for the hyper-industrial Hermes. That is to say, while this is a display of wealth, it’s not the expected one. The expectation of Hermes is in building as tall as you can afford, in expensive electronics, and in staff. In working out of a penthouse in your office building so that people can see just how many employees work under you. 

Which is why the goats (Smelly, Bitey, Atticus, and Stomp) are such a statement. In Hermes, the point of a lawn like this is that it needs to be mowed, which means needing someone to mow it. Costa-Silva doesn’t want a lawn, though - she wants [i]grass[/i], grass that’s thick and soft to fall on. Trees that are fun to climb, and fruit to reward you for climbing it. 

Bondi is bouncing with excitement as she skips around the terracotta fountain in the outer courtyard. “I could just stay here forever, couldn’t you?” 

Two men are coming out to meet you. One is older, apple-shaped with a long grey ponytail, wearing earthy colours and a sweatervest - he must be Mr Costa-Silva. It’s the other man, tall, razor-thin in a shiny white summer suit that greets you, looking up from a tablet and over the top of his thick digital sunglasses to address you.  “Ms Bondi and assistant?” 

“Yes!” Bondi doffs her top-hat with her [i]left[/i] hand. “That’s us!”

“You’ll be performing exclusively in the inner courtyard, through that archway. You have two hours to prepare your stage before the children will be ready for you, and a dressing room has been provided for you up the courtyard stairs, third door on the right. I do not want to find you anywhere else. A gold plaque has been placed on it for you, so please don’t insult my intelligence by later telling me you ‘got the wrong door’. And-”

“Sir Barrera.” Mr Costa-Silva takes his glasses off to rub his eyes. “Enough, thank you.” 

‘Barrera’ hides behind his glasses again. The only sign of his annoyance is a twitch at the corner of his lips, and then he spins on his heels and walks away, tapping at his tablet. 

“I am sorry for Lorenz. He should have told you that you can wander the gardens as much as you like, if you have the time. He’s very protective of the children, you must understand.” Mr Costa-Silva says. He flashes a smile that is simultaneously apologetic and grateful; “And I’d prefer it if you called me Mr Costa-Silva in front of them, as well. When it’s just between us, I am happy to be Luis to you.” 

He’s about to go for a handshake, but he hesitates if he should go for a left or right handed shake. 


[b]Sophie:[/b]

She barks a laugh as she puts the icepack on her ankle gratefully, kicking a shoe off. “Oh, sweetie. Yes.” She shakes her had. “Same way a kid’s a less dangerous patient. Doesn’t mean I want everyone staying in their larval stage. It just means-” She cuts herself off, halfway to tying a compression bandage over the swelling. “Almost lied and said I miss working in hospitals.”

She thinks; caring about other people doesn’t come naturally to her, but she’s smart enough to improvise when she needs to. “Those dragon scales - there’s no way to have those be able to stop a knife without being able to stop a scalpel. But stopping a knife saved me needing a scalpel just now. So, you know, that’s gotta make it worth it.”

But underneath that, the curious tone in her voice she doesn’t know to hide that betrays she’s stopping herself from asking; Why care? Isn’t it enough just to want it? 


[b]Black and White:[/b]

You get a text from Fiona;

"Crystal wants to do an exhibition for alternative body types. Like the racing Pavilion, but for people. She's kind of gone a bit insane? I don't know how to tell her I think it's a great [i]idea[/i] but I don't want to burn all our money or get chased down for the rest of our lives like rainbow salman rushdies, and I know it's a big ask, but I thought you two would be the best people for this that she'd actually listen to. You think you two could play good cop, bad cop for me?"

"Like, I feel like if Crystal's the starting point, and Black is total risk management, then maybe she'll listen to White as the negotiated compromise?" 

"I was supposed to keep this a secret, by the way. I think she wanted it to be a surprise? Which is why I kind of picked two here."