There were so many expectations woven into this dress before I ever accepted the role.

I tear myself away, angling the phone just so so that—

“Here, kitty kitty,” someone calls behind me. I spin around and come face to face with—

“Amon!” I say, startled, forgetting that I’m supposed to be Imogen.

He glances at me briefly and then looks away. He’s rubbing the back of his hands, where there are angry red scratches. “Sorry, can’t sign right now. Have you seen a cat?”

My own director doesn’t recognize me.

It takes a moment to realize what he asked. “A cat?”

“Yes, yes,” he replies impatiently. “Hairless? Looks like some ungodly demon spawn? Never mind. I’ll find it.” He resituates a stack of papers I assume is the con program under his arm and wanders off. Then I remember that Natalia Ford had a hairless cat when she walked in on my interview. Could it be the same one?

But what would Amon be doing with her cat?

Anyway, I don’t see the hairless nightmare or any sign of my thief. They’re probably long gone by now. But knowing they were here helps me feel a little better, even though this is beginning to feel like an impossible quest.

I stand in the exhibit for a moment longer, my gaze finding Carmindor’s original uniform. Huh, Darien was right—it is a different shade of blue. This one, the original one, is deeper somehow, more plum than navy, so rich that even after twenty-five years it hasn’t lost its color.

I bite into the top of my pretzel as I study the uniform when a kid comes up to me. He can’t be much older than nine, maybe ten, dressed as Carmindor, and he squints at me with a deep frown.

“You look like Amara,” he says decidedly.

My eyebrows jerk up.

He turns to his dad and says, “Doesn’t she look like Amara?”

At the sound of the character’s name, half the people in the exhibit turn to look at me, and I swallow my mouthful of pretzel with a dry gulp. “No, I’m not—”

“Ah, your meta cosplay of Jessica Stone is amazing!” adds a woman, grinning at me as she takes out her phone. “You even have a SPACE QUEEN beanie on, that’s adorable! What do you call your cosplay?”

I hesitate, knowing that if I flee they will think I’m—well—me, and if I play it off then…“Oh, this? It’s just Jessica Stone on Vacation.”

The woman barks a laugh and snaps a selfie of us. “Love it! Look to the stars!” she adds as she leaves through the exhibit, shoving up the Starfield salute. I smile and nod.

Right. Okay.

Time to leave.