“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Thirteen’s eyes were wide and innocuous as she covered sanguine lips in an exaggerated gesture. Her fingers, dusted with a light sheen of blush, were stretched taut like the bars of a cage. “Didn’t mean to offend you. Don’t be so nervous. Loosen up a little, you know?”

Ten stared at her rosy fingers, and was reminded of how they had lingered over her pulse. How they slid into the tiny crack between her mask and her skin, how they flitted over her eartips the way they’d found the tiny blemish on the pale ears of a winter jasmine mask. It was Ten’s first time at the club and, desperate for money, she’d thrown in a few second-hand masks from her company. Six had brushed it off as a manufacturing issue. That, or the mask had bumped against the edges of the suitcase, not yet padded as it is now.

“Oh shush, Thirteen, I’ve had to listen to your ridiculous theories for weeks now. Darling Ten wouldn’t do that, right? She’s too much of a goody two shoes.” Fourteen winked and sidled up to Ten. Her body is soft, softer than the pillows Ten is leaning against, yet cold. Too cold. Ten resisted the urge to push Fourteen’s leg off of her lap.

“Awww, Thirteen, you hear that? You’re not Fourteen-jie’s darling anymore. Reckon it’s gonna take another two months before you get back that title?” Another girl – Ten thought she might be Five – snickered. The rest of the room fell apart in peals of laughter, and Ten wondered if there’s a joke somewhere she’s missed.