A white man in his twenties strode into the atrium. He wore loose, glossy track pants, a torn white T-shirt, and Converse high-tops printed with a galaxy-swirl pattern.
“Hey! Wad! What the hell?” He crossed his arms high on his chest and waited.
“Sir?” The virtual butler’s voice was almost a parody of a stuffy British man.
Sean opened the door to the conservatory and stuck his head out to see who the new arrival was.
The new guy tossed his jagged brown bangs out of his eyes. He was kind of cute in a puckish way, with a jutting chin and arching eyebrows, making him look sly, or as if he was on the verge of getting into mischief. “Why can’t I get online?” he asked.
“My tests inform me that the Pyre Signs app is working perfectly, sir.”
“Who are you, then?” Sean’s question sounded more like a command. The new guy ignored him.
“I can’t stream War: Innate and Powerful on Pyre Signs, Wad.”
“Pyre Signs is the official app of Pyre Festival. The creators of Pyre Signs invite all guests to use Pyre Signs. Share with your followers!”
“Dude.” The guy shook his head. “The website said there’d be T1-line-level connection. It’s War day. I gotta stream for at least three hours to feed my fans.”
“There is high-speed Wi-Fi throughout the island,” Wadsworth explained. “Perhaps the problem is your device.”
“Anyone else having problems connecting?” The boy turned and glanced up at Plum and her friends. A sharky yet still cute smile stretched his narrow face. “How about you?” he asked the girls standing on the stairs. His glance lingered on Sofia.
“I sent a text,” Sofia replied. “From the dock.”
“Text? Jesus.” The boy shook his head.
Sofia laughed. “It was to my sister.”
“Oh, is she as cute as you?” He cocked an eyebrow.
Sofia laughed again and touched her hair.
“Oi.” Sean stepped into the atrium. “Who the hell are you?”
“A pissed-off gamer, who the hell are you?”
Sean stepped forward, looming over the new arrival.
The new guy held his hands up. “Chill, dude. Whatever. I just got here with that podcaster. Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.” There was a taunting glint in his eyes.
The gamer turned to the stairs again. “I’m Warix. Who are you, cute thing?”
Although he was looking at Sofia, and even though Sofia didn’t seem to mind the attention, Plum felt herself bristle.
Cute thing?
“Sofia Torres, and these are my friends Plum and Marlowe.” Sofia touched her hair again, giving it a little fluff.
“Nice to meet you, ladies,” the gamer said.
“You too!” Sofia replied brightly.
“Hmmm,” Marlowe murmured, and darted a look at Plum.
Plum shot a glance at her friend, confirming that they were definitely on the same page regarding “Warix.”
“You play War IAP?” Sofia asked.
“Yeah, I’m one of their top streamers,” Warix answered, not at all modestly. “Wanna watch me play later?”
The words popped out before Plum thought about it. “Sofia’s a gamer, too.”
Not precisely true, but Plum had seen Sofia completely smoke Louis a few times in Brawler. And it grated at her, because it felt like it was unconscious: this regular assumption that a girl would watch, instead of joining in the game herself.
“Only a little,” Sofia explained quickly, giving Plum a mystified glance. “And, yeah, maybe!”
“Let’s find our room,” Marlowe interjected. “Finally, please.” She smiled.
Warix stopped at the door to the conservatory.
“Catch you later, Sofia,” he called up, with that sharky smile again.
“Later!” Sofia called back, even as Marlowe grabbed her elbow, tugging her upstairs.
Brittlyn’s harsh voice floated up the stairs as Warix walked into the conservatory. “Oh, God, not another one.”