"So. Um. Hi."

Lucas seems pretty awkward as we meet in front of the center for our hangout at the theater. Our argument from Saturday night hasn't come up again between us and we've gotten on as if it hadn't happened, so I'm not sure why he's feeling a little awkward. Maybe he's as worried as I am that we might get into another fight over the Patron? Both of the last two times we did something outside of my training, an argument happened.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah," he answers. "Just cold. And cranky. Think we can get going?"

"Sure," I try not to laugh at his response. "Lead the way, because I have no idea where any theaters are."

"It's this way."

We walk in silence, and a few times, I glance over at him, watching him slightly. Despite our differences in opinion over that one thing, I still find myself attracted to him. I also find myself wanting to explain to him what's going on. It's only been a week since we met, but it might help him to understand why I get so angry when someone tries to blame the Patron for my parents' deaths.

It's not his fault he doesn't know, and people who don't know the full story tend to assume it's like every other case. It's not their fault they don't know. I feel like I can trust Lucas with the knowledge of why I'm so sensitive regarding this.

"My parents were vigilantes."

Lucas nearly stumbles at my sudden statement, then he turns and gives me a look that says he's trying to figure out if I'm serious or not. I am.

"The bank robbery was a cover," my voice is quiet as I keep walking, and he steps back to my side. "My parents were the real targets the entire time."

"I thought you said your parents didn't have abilities?" He asks. "Vigilantes-"

"They didn't, as far as I know," I answer. "I mean, they never let me know. From what I know, they used their skills and only their skills. They assisted another vigilante, a power user who goes by the callsign of Sovirna. She can manipulate the wind. It was… her fault that the group that targeted them found out their identities. It was her fault they escaped, too. Her fault the trail went cold."

"A vigilante covered up the crime?" He asks.

"No," I hesitate at this point. "One of the killers was her husband, though he didn't know she was a vigilante. She'd let slip to him something about my parents that led to him realizing that my parents were the ones who'd interfered with the drug trade he was a part of. Massively disrupted it. So he and another power user went and killed them knowing they didn't have abilities, that they couldn't really stand a chance.

"Sovirna caught wind of the crime, no pun intended," I say. "And instead of chasing after them, she went to my parents' side. If she'd chased after them, she could have caught them. But by the time she went after them, it was too late. They'd disappeared without a trace. So it's her fault they were killed, her fault their killers got away. The Patron has nothing to do with it."

Wisely, he chooses not to bring up the usual argument given about the Patron being able to catch them easily. Instead, he's silent for a few more minutes, and I just stare at the marbled browns of the shell as we walk.

"Sorry," he eventually breaks our silence. "I guess I can see your stance on that, then."

He seems genuine, so I'll accept the apology. We're still going to disagree on the Patron, but at least he understands why I don't blame the entity for my parents' murders and the lack of conviction. Mostly understands. I don't know if he'll ever understand that I truly believe in the Patron's mysterious reasons for acting the way he does.

The theater turns to actually be in the middle district near the lower, though not too far from the edge, only about a ten-minute walk from the boundary between the two. As with nearly all buildings, it's multi-story, and the individual theater rooms are apparently on separate floors. There are five total theater rooms, and each one apparently spans four floors by itself.

That's insane.

Posters showing the current set of movies are all on the wall outside, and we take a few moments to examine them.

"Shit," he mutters. "Romance, horror, and cheap comedy seem to be all they're showing."

"I take it you don't like cheap comedy?"

"It's awful," he says. "I prefer horror and fantasy, especially if it's an action flick."

"There's a fantasy-looking one there," I indicate a poster with a dragon on it.

"Let's try that," he says, and we walk up to the ticket office, which is outside.

"Why do you buy the tickets outside?" I ask Lucas.

"You buy them here," he says. "Then head inside. They then check the tickets once you get inside, and they'll check them on the floors, too, to make sure you're not sneaking into a theater. If the lines are inside, it's easier for people to slip past unnoticed, creating more work on busy days, when the checkers are already overloaded."

"Ah."

"Shit."

"What?" I ask.

He points up at the showtimes on the wall behind the clerk for the ticket office, and I see what's wrong. The fantasy movie is only showing in the evening. The five morning selections include two romance and three horror movies.

"The nearest theater is too far for us to both walk to, too," he mutters. "I wish we could've checked before coming out this way, but it's not possible. Sure, I can easily find out all of the films that were sold to theaters and what they're about, but not which are playing at which. Stupid, but true."

Coming to a decision, partly because of my own still-here crush on him, partly because I want to see how he reacts, I decide to say something.

"We can do horror," I tell him. "As long as you don't mind me hiding my face in your hoodie anytime it gets too scary for me. I'll just get annoyed at the romances."

Lucas mutters something, and I'm pretty sure he was just asking which is the scariest. Does that mean that he'd want to avoid it? Or that he'd be perfectly fine with having my face against him for a fair portion of the movie?

He examines the showtimes again, then hands me some cash.

"Theater Three, for the ten o'clock showing," he tells me. "Two tickets."

"Hi," I step up to the counter. "Can we get two tickets for the showing at ten for Theater Three?"

"That'll be forty dollars," the clerk rings us up, then I pay and he hands us the tickets and receipt.

"Here we go," I hand Lucas one of the tickets. "How, uh, do we do this?"

"We go inside and show them to the person inside," he says. "Then they rip the stubs off and put them in a box, showing that we've been checked. That simple."

He leads me inside, and it really does go that simply. There's a man waiting between a pair of rope barricades, and he checks our tickets, tears off the bottoms, drops them into a box, hands the tickets back, tells us it's Theater Three, then we pass on. I was expecting something a lot more complicated than that.

"Large combo meal," Lucas tells me as we pass the ticket-checker. "Lemonade, nachos with extra cheese. Get yourself a combo meal if you want."

He hands me fifty dollars and it takes me a moment to notice that we're approaching a food counter. Fifty dollars for that little food? I look at the prices and find that a large combo is twenty-five dollars. And he's seriously placing an order?

After examining the menu, I order two of what he requested, pay, then accept the food once it comes out. At least the servings are decent-sized.

Once we have our food, Lucas and I make our way up to Theater Three, which is empty of other people other than the lady checking tickets to make sure we paid for this showing. There are rows upon rows of seats, each row a little higher than the previous, and a massive screen. No wonder the theaters take up four floors, that screen is bigger than any I've ever seen before.

Lucas leads me to the back of the seating, the highest row of them, and sits in the center.

"Just curious," I say as we munch on the nachos and the strange-tasting liquid cheese while waiting for the movie to start. "But will it stay this bright in here while watching the movie?"

"No," he answers. "They'll dim the lights. Also, turn off your phone or set it to silent. Theaters are strict on that and will kick someone out if they're on their phone or it goes off."

I pull my phone out of my pocket and set it to silent, then return it to my pocket. Since he doesn't do anything, I'm going to assume that he switched his when I wasn't looking.

A few more minutes pass, and I'm almost halfway done with my nachos before I have to know something.

"Did you pick the scariest or the least-scary of the horror movies?"

"The scariest," he stuffs a couple of nachos in his mouth and avoids my gaze.

"Even knowing that I'm going to end up hiding against you?" I ask, and he just adds another nacho to his mouth, chewing slowly. "I'm going to poke your cheeks, you poof them out with more food."

He chokes on his food in an attempt not to laugh while eating, and does his best not to cough it out before he manages to swallow. Once he finishes, he just shakes his head a little, clearly attempting to look annoyed at me. It looks like I got past his morning crankiness with this.

"I like 'em scary," the weak attempt at convincing me tells me all I need to know.

Lucas wants me against him. Could he be trying to get a feel for me as much as I'm trying to get a feel for him? Am I really that appealing, despite being a scrawny runt? This makes me realize that he could be trying to figure out my sexuality, despite what he told me the other day about why he thought I was straight.

Whatever it is, I'm not going to let him know that I'm crushing on him just yet, for several reasons.

There's the usual one of we've only known each other a week. While I've met plenty of people who don't care and get with people right away here in the lower districts, I'd rather know him better and know my own feelings better. That way, if this is just a flash crush, I don't hurt myself when it ends.

The second reason is that he's a personal trainer. My personal trainer. I know he's just trying to be friends at the moment, but we still have to maintain some level of professional-whatever in our relationship. Is he even allowed to date clients in the first place? Probably not.

Then there's the fact that, in a month, I could be gone. If I become a Sivalshi Guardian, every single job could get me killed. Even the first one. Unless the guardians do stuff that never hit the news, every job I'll be assigned will be to kill someone.

As I think about that, the reality of the offer hits me. I'd never thought too much on it before. I want to be a Sivalshi Guardian, but I don't think I realized what it meant until now. Can I kill someone? How even could I?

If the Patron, a godlike being that might actually be a god, thinks I can, then I should trust in his faith, right? Or would that be a test for me, too? Would he refuse me if he doesn't think I can kill someone?

My thoughts over this are interrupted by my sudden realization that the movie started, the lights having dimmed at some point while I was deep in thought. The reason for this realization is the appearance of a horrid, grotesque monster on the theater screen, causing me to let out a small yelp and immediately seek shelter against Lucas.

We have to deal with real monsters and demons, and someone wants to go and put them in entertainment, too? People really enjoy this stuff?

Lucas's hoodie smells nice. There's a faint scent of flowers, rather than that chemical smell I'm used to with my detergents. He can afford the good stuff.

Focusing on that helps me deal with the terrors on the screen, and I get the faint sense that Lucas is amused. Whatever, that shit's disturbing. Even if I do get this job and have to kill people, I really doubt I'd have to handle something like that.

I've seen pictures of the demons and monsters in this world. None of them look that disturbing.

After awhile, I realize that Lucas has moved his arm around me. It may have been for comfort, but it's definitely not something two friends would normally do, I'm sure of that. His hand is on my shoulder, not the back of my seat or the seat next to mine. It's comfortable.

When I look up at his face, I see him fully interested in the movie, his attention focused completely on it. Has he realized what he did? Is he used to sitting like this because of his ex, and once he got into the film, went to this out of habit?

Either way, it feels nice to have him holding me like this, and holy shit, that thing has seven of those and is… URGH!

I bury my head back against him as my heart pounds furiously in my chest. Don't look at the screen. Don't look at the screen. Some people enjoy watching that stuff, but it's definitely not for me. Definitely not. I definitely shouldn't have turned my head that much towards the screen. Definitely not.

When the movie ends, Lucas has to convince me that it's okay to look away. It takes him some doing, because I'm worried that there's something still on the screen, but when I do look, it's blank, the lights having been turned on a few minutes ago. After the movie ended.

"Sorry," Lucas tells me as we get up. "I hadn't, uh, expected it to frighten you that much."

"That was…" I let out a disturbed shiver. "Uuh!"

"Yeah, sorry," he says. "Uh. Mind if I make it up to you with lunch?"

"You've already-"

"Please?" His plead sounds genuine, and upon hearing it, I feel like guilt might eat at him for awhile if I refuse.

"Sure," I answer. "You can pick for me."

"Alright," he says. "Let's head back. There's a diner near the center that's good. Not the usual one, but a different one."

We exit the theater and dump out our drinks into the drain, then toss our trash into the appropriate bins before leaving. As we begin the walk to the diner, I find myself standing just a little bit closer to Lucas than normal. Not intentionally, though, but it definitely makes me feel safer.

I won't have to deal with stuff like that as a guardian, right?