Alex had thought that the more boisterous side to the town would be revealed after crossing the vermillion bridge, but instead he was met with more of Riviam Point's undisturbed nature.

There were still glints of orange sunlight lingering in the clouds; the day was maturing, but its fading rays still preserved a level of animateness. And yet, the streets were void of any sentient presence. Although, they were as bright as the leftover luminosity in the sky with each building, house, and store having their interior lights on. The serene scene of the town was nothing like the spirited city climate of New Orleans, and it was already leaving Alex a bit ill at ease in getting used to it.

He travelled down the sidewalk closest to the bridge's end, and beheld the silhouettes in the windows of houses and lower-levelled apartments where curtains had been drawn, as well as the full-body figures visible in windows with the curtains pulled back. Not long after a few residences, he reached a section of the town crawling with shops and marts and emporiums.

He stopped at a slender crosswalk and stared ahead at the other side of the street at a particular building that stood out more than all the others in the vast chain of rainbow blocks that was Riviam Point.

There it was, an illuminating marigold sign that stated in refined cursive — Halcyon. There it was, attached to an...orange? Tangerine? Alex had taken art classes a few times throughout his time at Well-Ridge Prep — though they were more so the choice of the school's curriculum rather than his own — and they had regretfully never truly touched upon all the other colours in between the primary and complementary ones. But now, Alex knew he could say with utter confidence, in all its basic structuring, the building he was staring at was absolutely a shade of orange.

Was that what an apricot was? Another variant of an orange? he thought as he continued to loiter at the edge of the sidewalk gawking at what he was slowly beginning to realize was essentially an orange-on-orange café. It didn't seem all that flattering on the imaginary paper in his head, but the longer he stared at the somewhat hybrid of a building, the more it grew on him.

He was across the street and standing in front of the open sign on the cafe's door in no time at all. Though he was still nervous to come face-to-face with her, he also felt a surge of adrenaline imploring him to get the encounter over with.

Inside, was a completely different world. A checkered black and white tiled floor; sky blue walls, monochrome photographs on the walls; the many-hued and multi-shaped tables each partnered with dark blue chairs or booth seats; an amber countertop with a crimson cash register perched above; and to complement the charming space, a grandiose neon jukebox playing a rhythmic and bubbly tune, placed in the right corner next to the front door. Just as it was bursting with colour on the inside, the shop was vibrant with a mass of mingling warm bodies in between.

Alex scanned the crowd hoping to spot a certain someone, but instead his eyes landed on the head of a purple parallelogram table at a vacated booth secured to the right-hand wall. Several dishes with scraps of food had been abandoned, and Alex's stomach rumbled at the sight of them. His last meal had been a skimpy lunch on the plane, and that was over six hours ago. Before he realized, he was seated in the booth with the plates all pulled towards him, and he dug into the plethora of leftovers.

It was shrimp. Spicy and sour at the same time. Not a combination he'd had before, but the new taste was welcomed. The fork in his hand jumped from dish to dish, never leaving his mouth with nothing to chew on.

Nearly two minutes had passed by the time he cleaned every plate, and he contemplated licking them spotless, when he caught sight of thin auburn waves stalking through the crowd to get to him.

"Hey! What the hell? You've got another thing coming if you think you aren't paying for those, buddy!"

At a glance, Carsyn Mitchell didn't seem so intimidating, especially if you'd seen her profile picture. She was at least two-feet shorter than Alex was; the white apron she wore was a blank canvas smeared with assorted condiments; her left iris was an oceanic blue while the right was a cranberry red.

"I've never seen you before," she went on. "Some mouth-breathing creeper sneaking into my café, eating other people's scraps like some hobo in New York. You have maybe three seconds to tell me who the hell you are, or else."

Alex managed a wobbly smile. He had been warned about her overt belligerence, but everything he knew about Carsyn Mitchell suddenly vanished from his mind upon seeing her in the flesh now.

He said nothing as she towered before him while he sat, obstructing any space to even get up, so instead he reached around to the back pocket of his pants to pull out a folded purple envelope, and held it up to her.

Carsyn screwed her eyes at it. "What the hell-? Where did you get that? Wait..." She stumbled back a step, almost bumping into a middle-aged couple behind her. "Are you...Alex?"

Alex's smile finally steadied. "Syn."

"Holy shit!" She rushed into the booth's vacant seating opposite of Alex, and rearranged her formerly threatening countenance into something more genial. "Okay, not that I'm upset, but what are you doing here? You know I don't really like surprises. How'd you get all the way here anyway? Why aren't you saying anything?" She nearly yelled the last question, swatting Alex's arm in the process.

"Sorry I didn't tell you," he said, and slipped the envelope back inside his pocket. "I was nervous about meeting you, so I put off any contact till I actually got here. Long story short, my dad and I are moving to Riviam Point permanently. Also, haven't had a decent meal in hours. How much are the leftovers, then?"

Carsyn caught his wrist before it could make it to the wallet in his other back pocket. "It's on me, Lexy."

"Thanks," Alex beamed. He hadn't been too fond of the nickname when Carsyn first began to call him that in her letters to him, but after a year of their back and forth writing, he gained a soft spot for the sobriquet. "Enough about me for now. This is really your own café, huh? If the scraps are this good, a whole meal must be amazing here. How much for some more?"

Carsyn reached over to ruffle the fruitful frizz of Alex's frohawk, and he gladly let her. He rarely raved about his hair in his own letters to her, but when he did he always made it a point to exaggerate its lushness. Her fingers coiled in his curls as she carefully opened and closed her hand into a fist several times. Alex couldn't tell from her expression if she saw the truth to his exaggerations or doubt, but her hand continued its actions, so he thought it must've been a good sign.

"Cool your jets, Lexy," she said at last. "I'll get you an actual full-course meal instead, but first you gotta explain why you were so nervous to meet me that I literally had nothing but radio silence from you for two months."

Alex let his gaze fall to the spattered plate in front of him. He hadn't meant to say anything at all about the real reason he hadn't written any letters in so long, but of course it had slipped out. The only way out of it now was to try and steer the conversation away and-

"Syn."

The voice came from behind Alex, and he and Carsyn craned their heads to see a pale skinned boy with slicked back midnight blue hair and trimmed sides. He had called Carsyn, but he was glaring at Alex.

"Who the hell is this?" the boy questioned.

"Oh, Ziro!" Carsyn waved to the stranger, but he paid no attention to her. "Did I not call to say I wasn't gonna be able to make it tonight?"

"You didn't," Ziro replied, still staring Alex down.

"Oh. That's my bad. There's a lot more bustle in the cafe than I thought there'd be, so I'm sticking around Halcyon till closing. Anyway, meet Alex. He's the pen-pal I've been telling you guys about."

Ziro gave Alex a stony once-over before finally tugging his gaze towards Carsyn. "Why is he here?"

Carsyn hadn't mentioned much about one of her closest friends, Ziro Acera, in her letters, but something she had told Alex about — or warned him about, really — was his antagonism towards new people.

"I actually don't know that yet either," Carsyn said. "He kinda just showed up with an empty stomach, and apparently he and his dad are here to stay."

Ziro's eyes narrowed. "Stay here? In Riviam?"

"Yup," Carsyn nodded. "And if you don't mind, he and I have a bunch of catching up to do, about two months worth. You and Evan are gonna have to carry on without me tonight."

Ziro looked between Alex and Carsyn, but his chary gaze lingered on Alex a bit longer. "Then have him save the main event for last, until we're all together."

Alex didn't understand what that meant, but Carsyn did.

"You want him to tell us all why he moved here?" she translated.

Ziro nodded, a curt action. "Objection?"

Carsyn huffed an indecisive sigh but said nothing more as she leaned back against the leather seat cushion.

Alex sheepishly glanced at Ziro. "Uhmm, I-"

"Okay," Ziro interrupted. "No objections then. We can meet back here tomorrow morning before Halcyon opens. I'll tell Evan." He turned and stalked out of the café with his hands tucked inside his inky hoodie pockets.

Alex stared after him in mild horror until he had disappeared through the cafe's door, then turned back to gape at Carsyn. She had warned him about Ziro, but he had honestly thought that she was just exaggerating too.

Carsyn met his eyes and switched her frown into an ecstatic grin with breakneck speed. "Alright, Lexy, let's get you that full plate of Halcyon's signature shrimp."