One of the first things he'd learned in business was to look at the competition. Gleam as much information about what they were doing, what they weren't, and make improvements. Be the thing that they couldn't. Offer the people a better, more thrilling experience, and you'd profit.

But it wasn't just about the money for Quincy. That came second to the experience itself. It always had.

Killian focused on the mist swirling in the man's palm. The way it danced in the air like a Kirlia, forming a tendril that wafted scents sweeter than any Aromatisse under his nose, kept him fixated. Glued to the cotton candy fog until the very moment it evaporated into nothing.

Banter, the sharp-wit Killian so often used to defuse tension, electrifies the lightning rod that is his tongue. Flooding his mouth in a static that begs to be released. The admin's lips remained sealed, however. Glued shut by a will that refused to indulge Fernando in his twisted entertainment.

Miyako was an Uchiha. They could do anything if her father and grandfather were to be believed. Crushing dirt beneath her boots, she peered at her reflection in the water. Disgust and disappointed at the sight of her own eyes. Pale and golden - not what she needed, not what she wanted - deserved.

The golden band is little more than practicality. Lex is devoted to him entirely without it. Yet Killian's chest fills with an airiness capable of lifting him off his feet. They know they're the only ones for each other, but this lets the rest of the world in on the ill-kept secret.

Amidst the winding roots of ivory and crowded field of illuminated flowers, a bittersweet melody echoed. Dextrous fingers gliding along the polished keys of a piano poured their heart out for an audience of none.

Or perhaps that wasn't true. The tree could listen. Hear the sadness in Deacon's soul with each passionate press of ivory and black. He wondered if it could appreciate the sound. Feel the music the way a person like himself might.