Reservation for One and Three Tenths (Patreon)

The music had long been silenced, since Maisie’s phone lost connection to the speaker. The beat lingered on, however, accompanied by crystal ringing in the cozy dining room. 

“I thought this would sting a bit more than it does, to be honest…” I sigh, spearing a mix of pea sprouts and kale with my fork. “We worked so well together too.”

Taking a bite, I lean back in my chair, the produce is crisp, the tangy vinegar blending with a hint of citrus. “Oof, you really make a lovely salad dear.”

The gentle thuds cut off, replaced by an adorable squeaking. The flute beside my plate wobbled slightly, small streaks trailing from her tiny stocking-clad toes down into the base of her improvised prison. “Sometimes I amaze myself, it wasn’t easy to calibrate the field you know.” I set the fork down, beaming at the glass. “I guess you wouldn’t, missing all that time looking for another job.” 

Gripping the neck of the Champagne, I smirk. Maisie’s tiny face blanching almost marble white, noticeable even through the distortion of the glass. Slumping to the bottom of the flute and covering her ears while I undo the cage holding the cork. 

Pop

The noise rings through the room—my— heartrate jumps. A teeny, tiny whimper lilts through the mouth of the glass. “Aww, bit loud for you sweetie? I’ll bet.” Purring, I lean forward and rest my head against my knuckles.  “I have just the thing though.”

Unintelligible protests reverb upward, coherence lost in the echoing glass. Lifting the bottle, I tilt the opening towards the flute.  “Quit whining, you got your wish! A new position, with free room and board!” Beaming, I flick the flute with my fingernail. “No pay, but the perks are enormous. Well—for you anyway.”  Grinning, I watch the little sprite scramble against the glass. “What do you say Maisie, shall we share a toast to—our—bright future?”