[ the elevator comes to a sudden and unexpected stop. this continues not to be a terribly strange state of affairs. aventurine, swathed in the silk and teal of someone far beyond his station in life, merely turns a lazy glance first to the interrupted blinking of the elevator’s current floor number, then to the sole other occupant in the cloistered room. no, aventurine thinks, there is another. well, several others. they say art mimics life, though aventurine privately thinks that they likely didn’t mean for the saying to be so literal, even though there’s always been something fanatical about the way humanity pursued alternative methods to the creation of life when they already had a very effective way of doing so.

the young lady smiles from her portrait. aventurine, who had raised himself to be the very picture of polite society, waves back with a drumbeat flicker of his fingers. then, the purple and blue ribboned bands of his eyes turn back once again to the individual sharing his metal box in the sky. friendly, assessing. ]

I’d complain about the resort’s amenities, given how a resort ought to at least be convenient in the way it interacts with its guests, but I think both you and I know that the resort’s definition of convenience is its own. [ aventurine’s little smile quirks much in the way of a sharp knife’s edge, a single glint passerine motion before it’s replaced with something warm, and professional. he uncrosses his arms to the rasp of silk, and holds out his hand. ] Shall we take a moment to get to know one another? Aventurine; it’s a pleasure.