“Eccentricity is the prerogative of the wealthy and powerful. I barely qualify for either, but I’m working on it.”

“Then you should make more lucrative investments than in a man who has dedicated his life to healing the poor.”

“I’ll muddle through,” Jason said. “Did you want anything more than to point out how much attention you’re paying, Director? This intermission won’t last forever.”

Elspeth Arella was director of the Greenstone Branch of the Adventure Society. Rufus had pointed her out, along with any number of other local notables, during their spate of social outings the month previous.

“You’ll find, Mr Asano, that these intermissions last as long as certain people want them to.”

“I see.”

“I’m satisfied with how you have been conducting yourself since joining the Adventure Society.”

“Awakening stone satisfied?”

“I would not take your self-satisfaction as a reasonable measure of mine, Mr Asano. I especially do not care for some mid-level Magic Society functionary contacting my office to request a meeting with a member of my society, one not even a month clear of assessment.”

“Couldn’t they just come and find me directly?” Jason asked innocently.

She turned to give him a withering glare, her aura crushing his into the floor. He nonchalantly sipped at his drink, still looking out the window.

“Take a break from contracts for a little while, Mr Asano. You've been clearing out the backlog I use to prod some of our members who don't share your work ethic. I will see you are assigned appropriate contracts; just check the desk at the jobs hall. If you do well, you can expect to see a second star in the near future.”

“You’re the boss,” Jason said.

“You don’t strike me as a man who pays much heed to authority.”

“I’m not big on abdicating moral responsibility.”

She drained the glass and handed it back to him.

“You have a taste for the sweet things, Mr Asano. You drink like an elf.”

“You can knock back the plonk pretty well,” Jason said. “You drink like an Aussie.”

“I have no idea what an ‘Aussie’ is.”

“I am, Director. I am.”

* * *

“A friend of yours,” Jason whispered to Danielle as he took a seat back in the viewing box.

“A new friend,” Danielle said, “but I think, a good one.”

* * *

The art-lined public corridors of the concert hall worked their way around the circular building. There were plenty of concert goers taking in the art during the second intermission, Jason included. Drink in hand, he meandered down a hallway, alone. He stopped to consider a painting of a barren desert wasteland. It was impressionistic in style, reminding Jason of his earliest days in his new world. A woman joined him in examining it. He spared her a glance before turning back to the picture.