"A pair came to the store today claiming to be one of your cousins," Perla is clearing up the final table.

Tourists are few in between at this time of the night. Archie scrunches his face, refraining whatever instinctual unpleasant remark he was about to say to his best friend. It's not her fault, he tells himself.

"What impression did they gave you?" prods Archie.

"Lost. Aren't most of us, though?" sighs Perla.

"Anything else that caught your attention?"

"Well... They did mention wanting to settle here. Said they've been wandering the country in search of those like them. You mentioned you lot like living unnoticed, I wasn't expecting it would be this... extreme?"

The brunet almost laughs at that. Oh Holy Triad, if only that were not the case. Besides Llua's group and the two suspicious tourists, he hadn't truly meet anyone else like him, whether by birthright or through happenstance. It should be concerning how estranged he has been to his own culture since his mother ran away to the city a decade ago. Ever since, he has repressed most memories of his life from when he lived with the ka'an. The stories on the other hand, they stuck with him whether he liked it or not.

"Anyway—" Perla polishes the remaining pesky stain, she bites her tongue only smiling when it finally disappears, "—what do you think those two are up to?"

"Nothing good."

"Are you reconsidering Llua's offer?"

Archie shrugs. When he moved to Port Alba he was sure he had left that part of him behind. As long as he didn't acknowledge it, he was content to play the role the world wanted him to be. Assimilation is a matter of survival, or so his mother said when she changed her last name for the doctor's. He was made to forget his grandparents' tongue, prohibited from speaking it. What good did it do for him in the end?

A slight push on his shoulder brings him back to the present. Perla has forgone her uniform for a white sundress and a heavy denim jacket. Green-blue eyes stare at him expectantly.

"Are we eating out or what?" she asks.