The First Age

When Z gestured at himself, Seven couldn’t help but chuckle. “Why do you cowboy Americans wear denim so often? What a strange habit,” he said. Meanwhile, Seven could not stand out any more than he already did. The colorful blooms on his jacket shimmered with the bias-cut sheen of the jacket and the azure shirt blazed the color of his eyes all the brighter. Manifesto would surely not turn him away, not with Zhenya as a matron, but there was nobody powerful enough to approve denim and a t-shirt in Manifesto. They would probably turn away Ascendancy if he tried as much.

”One hour it is.”

The remaining oysters were consumed swiftly, yet Seven never seemed to truly be in a hurry. A message was returned to Zhenya.

@Zhenya
'I cannot resist a good mystery.'

[continued here ]