“There,” Lacie states proudly smiling at the computer screen.

“Wish the only photo I could provide wasn’t in the courtyard of my work in my work uniform,” I grumble.

“A uniform can be very sexy,”

“I am sure I’ll tell Florian that when he asks why I was modeling in the courtyard,”

I don’t know about this whole dating profile thing. What happens if I find a nice Mortal Woman who finds interests in me? It’s not like Eras would keep me in the Mortal World once the Pen is discovered and returned. Which I haven’t done yet. It’s not like our relationship could or would last, I do not feel emotions the way Mortals do. Us Phantoms are driven purely by our instincts. Instincts such as finding prey or seeking an environment that which we could thrive in. That is places of negativity. Not always, but it is rare to find a Phantom who finds interest in any positive emotions. Though those that dwell and linger longer than any Social or Personal Phantom, Primordials are as close to Celestials as you can get. And they live for as long as the idea of them lives. Just as the Celestials do.

The Mortal Conciousness, the collective, gave birth to both the Celestials and the Phantoms. Birthing them from stars manipulated by their thoughts. Those thoughts became alive and were given power through intense shared belief.

Gah. I might as well become an Oracle and start spewing history in the Oratories.

“You can tell Florian it was for a good cause,” Lacie tells me cheerfully.

“What is for a good cause?” Florian is standing at the doorframe of the office. I am surprised the sound of the elevator next to our office space hasn’t driven me insane.

“I am starting a modeling business,” I am attempting one of those Mortal jokes.

Florian laughs.

“Sexy,” Florian responds, giving me a teasing smirk, “What are we working on?”

“Dating profile,” Lacie tells him.

Florian looks at her, “Finally giving up those men you call boyfriends?”

“Eep,” Lacie ducks her head low, looking at the keyboard, “No-no-no it was for my Dad.”

Florian looks at me, he seems surprised, but ultimately nods in approval, “I am glad Troy. I was becoming worried the reason I came down here. You seemed on edge with the Order of the Exalted agent’s presence. Anything I should know?”

Shit.

“Doesn’t he just seem like a jeweled encrusted police officer,” I remark, “I don’t know he waltz in here, in his gilded clothes. His wool coat lined with gold, and his crew neck shirt with the embroidered peacock. Do you know how expensive that tailoring had to be?”

Lacie looks up at me, “He didn’t seem that bad though. Like he dresses expensive, but he didn’t have the personality of someone expensive. He didn’t have an expensive personality, is what I mean.”

We both look at her.

“We’re going to have to unpack what an expensive personalty means,” Florian looks at me, “Didn’t know you knew that much about fashion Troy. Didn’t know you were interested in it actually-

-hey, wait, you’re right,” Lacie interjects.

Fuck.

“I listen to you,” I state looking over at Lacie, nailed it, “You would have said about the same.”

Lacie beams. Her Aura radiates. Mmm, I preferred the part where they were suspicious.

Florian smiles, “Did something happen when you got hit yesterday?”

By the car. Yes, the real Troy is dead, I am a Phantom intertwined with the Spirit of a King from an Age you were not even fathomed to be born, and now I am trying to pretend to be the sad, beige man known as Troy and ultimately failing.

“I saw the light at the end of the tunnel,” I grumble.

Florian raises a brow, “It wasn’t criticism. You just seem more alive-

-I know right!” Lacie stands up, “Was there something you needed Florian?”

“Nope, just making my rounds, making sure everyone is mentally sound,” Florian looks at me and smiles, “Give Magi a chance. He’s young, I know that. But he’s well known in the Celestial Crest and honestly one of those rare investigators, I think. He seems to see much deeper than other people do.”

If only he knew the truth.

“Then, um, can we talk Florian? In private?” Lacie asks, she flashes a look my way, “Away from my Dad.”

“What tired of me already?” I joke.

“No, it’s just a question only Florian can answer,”

“I’ll do my best in answering,” Florian states, “Not sure what I can provide at thirty-two, your father couldn’t at forty-five.”

“One of those questions that doesn’t require age, but experience,” Lacie tells him.

Florian nods, “Troy, if you ever need anything, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I still respect you-

-how about you just help me find some nice shirts?” I interject.

Florian laughs, “Deal, but I am afraid I may dress you like my husband.”

What does that even mean?