This short story takes place during Two Different Things Can Just Be Different. You can read the first chapter of the novel here!
"Funny thing, confidence," said Xander. "It cuts both ways."
"He said confidently," replied Asp.
"Shut up," said Xander playfully. "I'm making a point."
"So make it," said Asp.
Xander rolled his eyes and stretched in the armchair in his apartment. "Some folks respond to it," he said. "They like people who seem sure of themselves. But not so for everybody. Other folks prefer an unassuming type."
"Yes, Xander, I've learned as much," said Asp. "That's why Penelope is so different depending on who she's talking to."
"Kid stuff," said Xander. "You change Penelope depending on how they react in the moment. I'm talking about knowing before you open your mouth."
Asp sighed. "Fine. Tell me about it."
Xander grinned. "What's the defining trait of someone who doesn't trust a confident person?"
Asp considered. "Uh . . . Another confident person?" She frowned. "No, wait--"
Xander laughed. "See, not so obvious."
"No, a person without confidence," corrected Asp. "Somebody who sees confidence as fake, or dishonest."
"That's right," said Xander. "A confident person thinks you're like them, which they like."
Asp smiled as her previous jobs played back inside her head. "Yeah," she said. "So what do you do with a person without confidence? Grovel?"
Xander snorted laughter. "C’mon, you know this."
Asp thought for a moment. "I do on some level," she said. "But beneath my mind. It's there, but I'm barely aware of it."
"Fuckin' natural," said Xander bitterly. "Everything comes easy to you."
Asp thought about her life. Does it, though? She smiled. "You act like you're just sure enough to talk to someone."
"There you go, kid," said Xander. "Fine line, that. But you walk that line, and they'll follow you anywhere."
"Or at least as far as I need," said Asp.
Xander stretched again and yawned. "So, you gonna put this lesson to use?"
Asp thought of her current coin situation. She was not in need. "Sure!" she said.
Xander smiled. "Then run off to the market, find someone, and know what you're gonna say before you say it."
"Ugh," said Asp. "Plans are stifling. I like a loose outline at most."
Xander sighed. "Then know what your outline is before you say it."
Asp smiled. "I can do that."
Xander pointed to the door. "Don't forget my fee," he said.
"And don't forget where it came from," said Asp, rising and walking to the door. She paused there. "Be back in less than an hour."
"Take your time!" called Xander. "Coins can't read a clock."
But Asp was already gone, her mind churning, trying to choose the right word to convince someone she was unsure of herself.
---
The marketplace was as it ever was: like normal life, but somehow turned up to be louder, more colorful. Asp found herself blending into groups she was not a part of, the people in the groups scarcely taking note of her. She eyed passersby with interest, reading their body language. Frustrated, she thought as she looked at a passing man with long hair and a concerned expression. Distracted, she thought, examining a woman in a bonnet whose eyes were distant. Nervous, she thought, looking at a young man with patchy facial hair. She looked more closely at him. He's looking down--cautious? Out of it? Insecure? She smiled to herself and stepped into the young man's way.
"Oh, excuse me," she said apologetically. "I'm so clumsy. Stupid," she added quietly to herself. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get in your way."
The young man looked surprised. "No, it's okay," he said, his eyes on the ground. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
Jackpot.
"No, really, it's my fault," she said. "Let me make it up to you."
The young man furrowed his brow. "Make it up to me?"
"Yeah," said Asp. "You hungry?"
The young man frowned. "I mean, yeah, but you don't have to--"
"No, really," said Asp. "What's your name?"
The young man stood up a bit straighter, but he was still slouched. "Finch," he said. "That's what my dad calls me, anyway."
Asp glanced around and spotted a baker's stall. "You like seed bread, Finch?"
"Sure," said Finch. "Doesn't everybody?"
Asp approached the baker and reminded herself as she stepped over to keep the unconfident act going.
"Excuse me, sir?" she asked quietly. "May I buy some seed bread?"
The baker eyed her, and she noted that he seemed less suspicious of her than vendors often seemed to be. "One cap for one, two caps for three," he said.
Asp pulled out two of the copper-dipped steel squares and handed them over. "One for Finch," she said, handing him one, "one for me," she said, holding one in her hand, "and one for the next hungry person to come by."
The baker reclined his head in surprise. "You mean a beggar?"
"Whoever," said Asp sweetly but uncertainly, like she was unsure of her good deed.
Finch took a bite of his seed bread roll and smiled. "Thanks, uh . . . what's your name?"
"Blossom," said Asp delicately. They turned from the baker and walked off into the market
"At least, that's what my mom calls me."
Finch laughed lightly and took another bite. "Parents," he said, as though his meaning was self-evident.
You got that right, buddy.
"So, um, Finch," started Asp, layering on the uncertainty. "Can I ask you a question?"
Finch took another bite of his roll. "Sure, I guess," he managed to say through a mouthful.
"What do you do for work?" she said, taking her own bite of seed bread.
"Oh, nothing exciting," said Finch. "I clean the stables up in the middle tier for this inn."
"Not many inns up there," said Asp quietly. "You mean the really big one by the city center?"
"No, the nice one over by the diplomat building," he said, seemingly bored. "Everybody's so stuffy there. My boss wants me to shave my beard."
Asp stifled a laugh and looked at the nine spindly hairs on Finch's chin. Beard? That's a beard?
"That sucks," said Asp. "I'm sorry, Finch. Maybe we can get him back."
Finch swallowed and looked at her. "Get him back? Like how?"
Asp felt herself starting to shift into eloquent, convincing mode and stopped. "We could . . . I dunno, we could--wait. Does your boss have a beard?"
Finch nodded. "He says I can't have a kid beard. It needs to be real. Like his."
"I know!" said Asp coyly. "What if we got rid of his beard?"
Finch's eyes lit up, but his mouth looked sour. "But then he'd be mad at me. I'd be fired."
"Only if he knew you did it," said Asp. She was tempering her performative lack of confidence with a bit of ease. "I could do it, and he'd never know it was you."
"You'd do that?" asked Finch. "For me? But we just met."
"You seem like a nice guy, and I hate the thought of your boss treating you that way," said Asp. "Let me help you."
Finch's eyes glittered enough to overcome his caution. "Okay," he said. "But I feel like I'll owe you a favor."
"Worry about that later," said Asp. "First, we've gotta shave your boss."
Finch laughed to himself and finished his seed bread. "You're crazy, Blossom."
"Probably," said Asp, "but I'm right, right? Your boss deserves to come down a peg?"
"He does," said Finch. "Just please don't get me in trouble."
Asp placed a hand on Finch's shoulder. "You won't get in trouble." She allowed just a bit of confidence to enter her voice. "I promise."
---
Finch had led the way up the ramp and to the middle tier of Thistlewade, Asp letting hom guide the conversation and keeping him as comfortable as she knew how. They drew even with the grand inn that stood across from the official home of Thistlewade diplomats, and Asp stopped him.
"Okay, so he's a guy with a beard," she said. "Anything else to identify him by?"
Finch froze. "Oh gods," he muttered. "You're really going to do this?"
Asp felt her response coming naturally: Of course I'm going to do this. Wait til you see his face! She cut that answer short and looked down. "I mean," she said and paused. "I mean, part of me wants to. And part of me is afraid of getting caught." She was fighting the urge to push him, and she couldn't. "But doesn't he deserve a little of his own nonsense?"
Finch studied her. After a moment, he said, "I guess."
Shit. Trust Xander, or trust my gut? Why not both?
She smiled lightly. "Finch, listen," she said, "we don't have to do it if you're worried. But think about it. How would your boss look without a beard?"
Finch laughed. "Pretty silly."
Asp smiled. "You think it's worth it?"
Finch looked tense, then smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Okay."
Asp put a hand on Finch's shoulder. "What's his name? What does he look like?"
Finch looked towards the inn, his eyes drifting toward the stables outside. "Jules," he said after a moment. "He always wears suspenders and this little brown hat."
Asp looked at the inn. "Okay," she said. "I'm going to go in, and when I come out, he'll still have his beard, but by tomorrow, it will be gone."
"How?" asked Finch.
"Wait," said Asp carefully. "Let me go in first. Then we'll talk."
Finch shrugged. "Okay. Good luck, I guess."
"Thanks," said Asp. "Be back in five minutes." She smiled at Finch and hurried toward the inn. Along the way, she pulled from her bag a small vial with the clear liquid she used to adhere the facial components of her disguises. She stepped inside and looked around the well-lit room.
"You can get the next nicest room for just a helm more a day," said a large slightkin man with a beard. He wore suspenders and a brown cap, and he was speaking to a newtkin traveler.
"What does it have?" the traveler asked.
"Oh, the bed is bigger, for one," said the innkeeper. "And the window has a nicer view."
"That's okay," said the traveler, dusting off her robes. "I'm happy with the basic room."
"Still the best the city has to offer," said the innkeeper. "You won't be disappointed."
"Very well," said the traveler, placing a few coins on the counter. "And you are? In case I need your help later."
"Jules," said the innkeeper. "I'll be here if you need me."
"Thank you," said the traveler. "Good day." She walked off towards the stairs up to her room, and Jules turned to look at Asp.
"How can I help you, miss?" he asked.
Asp stepped up to the counter, the vial uncorked and held just out of sight. "I found something outside, and I thought it might belong to one of your guests," she said.
"That's kind of you," said Jules. "What is it?"
"It's right here in my bag," she said, pretending to struggle to lift it. "Let me just--" She lugged the bag up and onto the counter, launching the adhesive onto the lower half of Jules' face. He recoiled in surprise, his hand running through his beard, trying to wipe the glue away. His hand got caught in the sticky hairs of his beard, and he tugged hard to pull it away, but it held fast in his beard.
"What the--?" Jules resigned himself to having his hand caught. "What the fuck was that?"
"I'm so sorry," said Asp. "I think it came open."
"Yeah, but what was it?" demanded Jules. "It smells awful."
"I dunno!" cried Asp. "I just found it."
"Godsdamnit," he said. "Get out." He pointed to the door with his free hand. "Out!"
Asp frowned and hurried outside. She spotted Finch and headed towards him.
"That wasn't five minutes," said Finch. "It didn't work."
Asp smiled. "No faith, Finch?"
Finch looked surprised. "You did it? But how?"
Asp shook her head. "I'll tell you when you stop acting like it was impossible for me to pull off."
Finch smiled slightly. "Okay, Blossom, you did it. But how?"
Asp laughed. "I threw glue on his beard," she said.
Finch snorted, then threw his head back and laughed. "Glue," he said, disbelieving. "His hairs will all stick together. It would look terrible. He'll have to shave it."
Asp smiled. "Yeah, but the bigger problem is that his hand is glued into it."
Finch laughed again, harder this time. "You glued his hand into his beard?"
"It wasn't the plan, exactly, but it worked perfectly," said Asp.
"Wow," said Finch. "I mean, I feel like I owe you."
Those are the magic words, she thought. Now to capitalize on--she stopped herself. Except it doesn't feel right.
"Naw," she said. "Don't think of it as a favor. Think of it as help. I helped a little; that's all."
"Thanks," he said, looking down. "If I can ever help you, let me know."
Asp grinned. "Maybe I will. But don't worry about it. Just enjoy the look on Jules's face."
"I can do that," said Finch. "See you 'round?"
"You just might," said Asp. She waved and turned to walk away. "Take care, Finch."
He nodded. "You too, Blossom." He smiled slightly.
Asp turned and walked away, humming quietly to herself, and she stopped by the apothecary to restore her adhesive supply before returning to Xander's apartment.
---
Asp knocked twice. Xander opened the door and grinned.
"I tell you to take your time, and you show up less than an hour later with that self-satisfied look on your face," he said.
"Nice to see you too, Xander," she said. "Can I come in?"
Xander smiled and shook his head. "Be my guest," he said.
Asp stepped inside and sprawled out in an armchair facing Xander's. He took the seat across from her and held out a hand. "My fee?"
Asp held a hand out and shook it to indicate "no." She sighed. "I didn't take anything."
Xander furrowed his brow. "What?"
"I worked a person with no confidence, though," she said.
Xander shook his head. "That's not what we talked about. We talked about conning someone using what I taught you."
Asp sighed again. "Well, the plan changed." She brushed her hair out of her face. "I got him on my side--objective achieved--but he worked in the stables. Nothing to take."
"So then you didn't really learn anything," said Xander. "You got him on your side, but you didn't benefit from it. And if you don't benefit from it--"
"You didn't do anything," finished Asp. "But you shoulda seen this kid. He was pitiful. I had to work to get him to do something he wanted. Doesn't that count for something?"
"Nope," said Xander. "Counts for nothing at all. Unless you can go back and figure out a way to profit from him, you just wasted an hour of your time."
I don't like it, but he's got a point. I basically helped Finch for nothing. Unless . . .
"Hold on," she said. "Gimme another hour."
Xander laughed. "I told you to take your time."
"I just need an hour," said Asp. "Then I'll have your stupid fee."
Xander smiled. "You can see yourself out? I'd walk you to the door, but you'd be back before I sat down again."
"See you soon," she said, and she left the apartment, her mind racing.
---
Asp drew even with the inn and paused. She looked up and down the street and waited. The government buildings became illuminated in the evening light by hanging lanterns. She smiled at the change in the city. Then, quietly, she walked into the stables connected to the inn.
The smell that met her there was not quite foul--more like a stale odor that never quite leaves no matter how thoroughly the place is cleaned. She saw Finch come in from the backdoor, a square shovel in his hand. He looked surprised to see her, then smiled.
"Blossom!" he said. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing's wrong," she said. "But I thought of a way you could help me back."
Finch set the shovel down, leaning it against the wall. "What is it?" he asked.
Asp made herself look worried. "It's nothing bad," she said. "I just wondered if you might let me know how Jules is now that his hand is glued to his face."
Finch laughed. "He cut it free," he said. "But his hand is still covered in beard hair."
"Good," said Asp. "Is he in there? I want to see."
"Won't he be mad if you come back?" asked Finch.
"Maybe," said Asp. "But that's okay. I dropped something inside, and I need to get it."
"Okay," said Finch. "Yeah, he's in there. But he keeps going up to his room and trimming his beard."
Perfect, she thought. "Thanks, Finch," she said. "If I have to run, have a good life."
Finch blinked. "Uh, yeah," he said. "You too." He smiled sadly.
Don't worry, Finch, she thought. I'm not done with you yet.
She left the stables and looked into the inn. Jules was standing behind the counter, yanking hairs off of his hand. She ducked back outside and waited. Several seconds passed. Jules said "ow" from inside; Asp assumed he had yanked another hair from his hand. She waited a bit longer, scanning the street to make sure she wasn't seen. Then, from inside, she heard grumbling and the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs. She smiled to herself and ducked inside stealthily.
The entry was empty, no one behind the counter. Asp wasted no time. She ran behind the counter, opened a few drawers, grabbed a lockbox, and dashed back outside. She shoved the lockbox into her bag, then withdrew a few glittering helms from her coinpurse, which she piled on a table inside the stable. She darted out of the stables just in time to hear Finch reenter the stables and curse.
"Shit! Where did you come from?" he asked the coins.
Asp heard the clink of the coins as Finch picked them up, then the muted clink as they fell into a coinpurse.
There we go, she thought, hurrying off to Xander's.
She headed down the ramp and to the former art gallery. She knocked twice, and Xander opened the door.
"Back so soon?" he asked.
Asp moved her shoulder so that the lockbox clattered in her bag. "Yep," she said.
Xander shook his head, laughing. "Make yourself at home," he said, standing aside.
Asp walked in and pulled the lockbox from her bag before retrieving her lockpick and probing the lock.
"He was good for all that?" asked Xander. He sipped a glass of brandy casually.
"In a way," she said. "He helped me."
Xander spat out a spray of brandy. "You talked an insecure kid into helping you do a job?" His voice was shocked.
Asp laughed. "Well, first I talked him into messing with his boss," she said, the lockpick moving this way and that. "Then I got info out of him."
Xander grinned and sipped his brandy. "And was I right?"
Asp frowned, absent-mindedly probing the lock. "Partly."
"Partly? It was good advice," said Xander.
"It's good advice, but it's not my style," she said. "I had to tone it down, but he still needed a push."
"So I was right," he said.
"Partly right," she corrected. The lockbox popped open to reveal a modest pile of helms and a few crowns.
"And that's partly mine," said Xander. He snatched one of the crowns and shined it on his shirt.
Asp rolled her eyes and placed the rest of the coins in her purse. "You know, one day you'll look back and think of me as your easiest pay ever."
Xander chuckled. "No, not one day," he said. "I already do."
Asp stuck out her tongue. "Well, don't forget it."
Xander swirled his glass and took another sip. "And don't forget the lesson."
"I dunno, Xander. Confident people are easier to con," she said.
"Maybe for you," he said. "I get a lot of my work with insecure types." He smiled devilishly. "Like you."
Asp glared at him. Am I insecure? Does he think I'm insecure? Why does he--wait. That rat bastard.
"Liar," she said. "You just said that to see if I would get insecure."
Xander laughed. "So? Like I said, confidence cuts both ways."
Asp rolled her eyes. "So does you helping me," she said. "Which I'm confident will pay off one day."
You can read more short stories here!
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