Crest, the location for the event that held all exhibitors and presenters together that night, was located on top of quite a hill. Micah blew heavy breaths as he climbed up the stairs along with Iqball and Ballqis. There was a walkalator on another side of the hill, which Mrs Jogh and Mr Evans opted for. 

The three student researchers decided to take the stairs as they would be able to view the sea from that side of the hill.

The night was brilliant.

It had all the makings of a glorious evening; fresh seaside air, the smell of barbecued meat, thumping ska music and a merry string of crowd entering the spot. A black blanket full of sporadic lights from millions of years ago spread above them.

Iqball wished he could just lose Micah and spend the ascend alone with Ballqis. She was dressed in a white top paired with one of the boho skirts she loved so much and the only pair of shoes she brought, an Old Skool Vans.

But the girl seemed bent of keeping her eye on the senior. He tried stalling her but Micah was just moving too slowly to grant a gap.

Ballqis trained her eye and mind on Micah as she tried not to notice how good Iqball looked that evening. His black jacket, black top and grey jeans made him appear so different from his usual look. She refused to acknowledge her growing interest in him, so Micah provided the much needed distraction.

"Hurry up, children," Micah called out as the smell of burnt kangaroo meat filled his nostrils. The senior was also dressed to the nines, positive he would find the girl he had been admiring since day one.

Iqball and Ballqis waved the 'ok' sign as they were trailing just a few steps behind him. 

They mingled with the rest of the academia as soon as they entered the  tastefully decorated hall. Ballqis saw Micah successfully locating the person he had been wanting to meet. As he head straight towards the girl with the red rimmed spectacles, Ballqis frantically searched for the few friends she had made throughout the last couple of days.

Left alone before he could make his move, Iqball ended up bringing food to Mrs Jogh and Mr Evans' table.

"They didn't have fried fish?" asked Mrs Jogh.

Iqball laughed. "Maybe you could contribute a few from your tanks, Mrs Jogh," he chided.

Mrs Jogh's guffaw nearly throw her off her seat. She went off to pick up drinks.

"Mr Iqball, I wonder if you happen to know that fried fish was Mr Jogh's last meal. "

Out of the blue, Mr Evans offered the piece of gossip.

Iqball nearly choked. Ballqis, who showed up out of nowhere offered him her bottle of mineral water. He gulped a couple of mouthfuls gratefully.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but did you say Mr Jogh died after eating fried fish?" Ballqis asked.

Mr Evans nodded.

"He was actually leading the DNA separation research. He choked on fried fish one fine Sunday, and suddenly the research was halted. Mrs Jogh revived his work with whatever was left before applying for a grant to redirect the research a few years ago," Mr Evans told the young students, his eyes drifting to a point beyond the lighted walls.

"Is eating fried fish... her way of remembering her late husband?" Iqball asked without caring if the question made him sound nosey or idiotic.

Mr Evans shrugged. 

"Maybe."

Ballqis picked a strip of meat before asking Mr Evans another question.

"Was Mrs Jogh serious about air-frying her lab fish then?"

Again, another shrug.

"I am not sure, Ms Ballqis. I only get the numbers and crunch them. I get a little pocket money to spend at my favourite book store. I only know that much," he admitted.

"Do you know how long the fish gets to be observed before they are no longer part of the research?" Iqball asked in a roundabout way.

"Two semesters for each generation of fish, about six months, I guess? Well that's how long my data for each generation of lab sample is anyway. But according to Jogh, the expectation is that the fish will be harvested by the time they are four months old," Mr Evans shared mindlessly.

He was already chomping on kangaroo meat before Iqball or Ballqis could ask more. And Mrs Jogh arrived with two glasses of punch on each hand, mothering them with calls to eat and drink.

"Would you like to dance, Ballqis?" Iqball asked after several minutes.

The look he was giving her seemed hopeful, like he had an important matter to discuss.

"Sure," Ballqis said, despite not knowing any dance steps at all.

"Enjoy, kids!" Mrs Jogh hollared above the music.

Ballqis steadied herself as she followed Iqball towards the centre of the hall.

The eight-piece band was playing light music from the 80s. The ska version of Cindi Lauper's Time After Time didn't seemed that hard to dance to.

Iqball led as they both stepped on the dance floor.

"Apologies, I have never danced before," Ballqis immediately issued a disclaimer ahead of possible foot injuries.

"Oh don't worry, same here," Iqball said.

"But I agreed cause I know you asked me to come out here as you wanted to discuss what Mr Evans just divulged," Ballqis pointedly assumed.

Iqball knew he should have denied this, but sensing Ballqis would not continue dancing if he admitted that he really did want to simply dance with her, he agreed.

"Mr Evans may knew more than what he just told us. Should we try digging more information from him?" he suggested.

They were simply shifting weight from leg to leg as they considered this. The disco ball above them twirled, peppering shine on their serious faces like slow-moving confetti.

"I'm a little worried about who we should trust right now. Would Mr Evans catch on if we ask him too much? Would he tell Mrs Jogh that we're sniffing around? I don't think Mrs Jogh would take that kindly," Ballqis argued.

"I supposed we do need to pretend we're oblivious to things in order to keep being included in this small group. Mrs Jogh mentioned she got another invitation to speak about the fish, I'm sure she'd be hiring minions like us to help out again," Iqball recalled a small conversation he heard just a few hours ago.

"Really? I surely need the money. Then let's not give her any reason to suspect anything," the girl in his arms pleaded.

At the mention of money Iqball curled his brows. 

"Oh no, I stepped on your foot did I? I'm sorry, Iqball," Ballqis mistook the crumple on his forehead.

"You didn't, you're doing great. Let's just dance and enjoy the music. We can worry about T7's ending after this song ends," Iqball quickly said.