Previous Episode | Facebook | Next Episode
Sushi gazed at the image of her that Otto had sculpted. It was undeniably her, and yet somehow more. There was an air of the elven queen about it, nobility in the eyes and mischief in the lips. It was Sushi as seen under a sky of stars, filled with joy and hope, a perfecter of beauty.
She felt herself growing ashamed of how little credit she had given Otto over the years of their friendship. His craftsmanship was remarkable. She realized that she had seen the signs of it: his lightning typing fingers, his sharp eye for 3D modeling, the elegance and delicacy of his soldering.
“It’s incredible, Otto,” she breathed. “It’s who I want to be.”
He shook his head.
“It’s who you are.” He blushed fiercely, but continued. “It’s how I see you.”
Her eyes darted to his, but there was no mockery, no falsehood, just a sincerity that made her wonder at her own doubt. She could see more in his eyes, see him wrestling with an even greater statement.
Don’t say it, she implored inside. Not yet. One day, maybe very soon. Let me get ready. Just a little longer.
Then he smiled, impish, impossible.
“Eddie,” he said. “We got any of that wine left over from the contest?”
“Oodles,” Eddie replied.
“How about we break some of it out.”
“And why the hell would we do that?”
“I thought that’s what you artist types do whenever someone looks at your art. You know. Next part of my training?”
Sushi laughed and punched him fondly. “You really are becoming an artist.”
* * *
Alex arrived to find Sushi snoozing lightly on Otto’s belly as he and Eddie debated video games, sitting on the floor with a couple of nearly empty wine bottles between them.
“Hey guys. I’m on my way to deliver our rent. Eddie, another table for you to look at downstairs if you’re interested.”
Sushi leapt to her feet, signed over her check and passed it to Alex.
“Put whatever’s left over in the common fund, or on my tab, or however we’re doing this.”
“Right. Otto?”
“About that– I had this great idea I’ve been meaning to talk with you about. Gaming tables. You make the tables, I add the gaming. Right? Customizable landscapes, hand-crafted tilesets, little drawers for your dice, fancy DM screen.”
“Sure, but–”
“We target the 18-35 year old male demographic, naturally. Disposable income. Geeks. Give it some cachet with limited editions–”
“But what about the rent that’s due today?”
Otto hesitated.
“Oh, that’s taken care of,” Eddie said smoothly. He exchanged a glance with Otto, who was looking uncertain. “Otto must not have told you yet. He’s been accepted to the Gallery At The End’s young artists’ program.”
“You don’t have a–” began Sushi, but Eddie cut her off.
“It’s the usual sort of arrangement. The fellows, as we call them, practice their craft under my hawk-like tutelage, attend gallery events, mix my drinks, keep the place tidy, dance occasionally for my amusement–”
“Now wait a–” Otto began to protest.
“Of course, there is a modest stipend to cover living expenses,” Eddie pulled out his checkbook and scrawled across it carelessly before ripping out a check and handing it to Otto.
“These dances,” Otto asked. “Nothing…undignified, I hope?”
“Oh, you’ll enjoy it immensely, Tubbs,” Eddie assured him. “We’re going to have lots of good times together, you and I.”
“Right.” Otto sighed, darting a rueful look at Sushi. “Anything for my craft.”
