After the formal greetings and introductions, the Councilor—Isabelle, she insists—tells them she looks forward to seeing them at the dinner reception that evening. Until then, shell leave them in Kurt Hummels care, so that he may show them to their quarters, where they can relax and refresh from their travels.

The guest quarters are several decks above the docking level, Kurt explains. "You should enjoy the trip up," he says. Kurt leads them to an elevator that is, aside from its doors, completely transparent. The faceted angles of it shine more glossy than glass, and, curious, Blaine looks out. The Ambassador does not.

The view from the elevator reveals theyre several stories up the side of an expansive interior space of the ship. Its an atrium as big as a city park—and nearly as verdant. Tidy, ivory stone paths and colonnades weave between tall growing trees, swathes of lush grass, and beds of colorful flowers. A clear stream slithers a glittering trail from a tall waterfall hundreds of meters opposite their vantage point. It tumbles down from a high plateau, atop which Blaine sees people seated at tables, dining. There are also people below, reclining upon wide couches or walking beneath the trees. Some appear to be in various stages of intimate embrace with one another, so Blaine doesnt look directly at them. He attends instead to his AR display as it identifies the trees.

Theyve got nothing like this on Apathean ships, not even the large civilian vessels. (And even the hydroponic bays on the A.G.S. Mercury, the Apathean Guild Ship that brought them to their rendezvous with The Galactic Diamond, were off limits to passengers, including the long term ones.) Blaine hasnt been planetside for so long, he sometimes forgets how much he misses the dappled shade of broad leafed trees and the gentle murmur of flowing water.

Rapt, Blaine gazes out as the elevator rises. He sees a bright yellow bird take flight from a low shrub to find a taller perch in a pale-barked tree. It begins a trilling, cheerful song that he can hear clearly even in the confined space of the elevator. Lightly he touches the glass wall of the elevator, and he wonders if the bird is real.

"Beautiful, isnt it?" Kurt says, near Blaines shoulder.

"Its remarkable," Blaine replies, careful to keep the awe from his voice. The Ambassador will think the atrium extravagant and impractical, but one should at least admire the skill and audacity. He spares Kurt a quick glance and an even quicker smile. "Your engineers are very talented."

.

Once theyre out of the elevator, Kurt leads them down a relatively darker and silent corridor into the guest wing. Rather than the ivory fractal mosaic, here the curved walls are a steel gray near the floor, lightening in an even gradient to a gentle silver glow overhead. The floor is smooth but soft and absorbs the sound of their footsteps. They pass through several pairs of sliding doors of colored hexagonal glass tiles. As Blaine watches the doors, he sees how the colors seethe and swirl lazily—blue to indigo to violet to crimson, and then back again. Its soothing after the energetic brightness of the other spaces hes seen.

They come to an intersection and Kurt passes Hunter, Nick, and Trent off to a tanned blond man in a plain gray suit. "This is Sam," Kurt says. "Hes my chief assistant, and hell do all he can to make your stay with us as pleasant as possible."

"This way, please," Sam says, and gestures for the three to follow him down a left turning branch of the hall.

"And you shall remain in my care, Ambassador, Mr. Anderson," Kurt says, and again Kurts attention rests upon Blaine longer and with more intensity than seems strictly decorous. Blaine keeps his own attention on the Ambassadors back as they follow Kurt down another passageway. "I arranged for adjoining quarters, as your office requested," Kurt says. "And I have staff on call for you at any time, for any reason, even if I should be unavailable."

Blaine translates for the Ambassador, though he knows she knows enough Elyssian to get the general idea of Kurts words.

"Thank you," the Ambassador says, and Kurt shows them to a wide, opaque door. Its surface is emblazoned with the Apathean Commonwealths official seal, a silver sunburst on a blue field ringed in crimson. A biometric lock requires both the Ambassadors and Blaines thumbprints as well as samples of their voice. It takes little time to set that up, and then the door opens, and Kurt steps back so the Ambassador may enter first.

Immediately across from the doors, the exterior span of the wall is transparent to space. Its disorienting for Blaine, feeling as if hes stepping outside rather than inside. He must make some physical indication of his surprise, for Kurt speaks again quickly. "The viewing windows are programmable. You can scale back the opacity if you wish, or trim the viewable area, or even have it display something else: a different texture, color, pattern, or view. Like all of the surfaces on our ship, it can be customized to your particular desires."

"Thats convenient," Blaine says, he retracts his AR eyepiece so that it wont obstruct his vision, and he steps closer to see that, from here, they have a magnificent view of the ships starboard side. He can make out the long arcing wing of her warp drive and the fine organic lattice of her solar sails. Within the room are two wide couches facing one another with a table in between. Theres an oval bowl of fresh fruit upon it and a slender carafe of water on a tray accompanied by five glasses.

"Let me give you a demonstration of how the walls work," Kurt offers. "And show you the rooms amenities and features."

"Master Hummel, address your instructions to Mr. Anderson," the Ambassador says brusquely. "For now, I need only know where I can work."

"Of course," Kurt says, and he shows the Ambassador to the rooms hes established as her private office and sleeping chamber. And then she dismisses him, goes into the office, and the door sweeps closed behind her.

For a moment, Kurt doesnt move. He stands, staring at the closed door, flexing the fingers of one hand against the seam of his trousers. A shadow of a frown dims his smile before he recovers and turns back to Blaine, an unexpected instant of something like disappointment.

"Im curious to learn how the surfaces function," Blaine says brightly. "Your technology is so different from what Im accustomed to."

"It will be my pleasure to teach you, Blaine," Kurt says, and its so sincerely spoken, it makes Blaine wonder. For all that hes heard of this culture and the importance placed not only on pleasure, but also on honesty and kindness, he didnt expect this. But he understands how he finds his own satisfaction in attending to his duties and responsibilities, in excelling at his job. Kurt may not be so different.

The main control panel for the room is, itself, part of the wall display. Kurt brings it up near the door but explains the panel may be summoned on any interior wall in any room. Its responsive to touch, gesture, and voice. Blaine prefers voice, for while hes learned to speak Elyssian well enough, hes yet to master the complexity of their writing. Kurt shows him how to receive an automated translation of any text if he needs it. "The translations lack grace," Kurt says. "But theyll give you the information you require."

At that Blaine dares to lift his gaze to meet Kurts. Kurt continues to look at him directly with a kind of interest that Blaine cant begin to understand. And, just as it was in the airlock, Blaine finds himself caught in the blue of Kurts candid eyes. He grows warm and apprehension flutters in his belly. "Thank you," he says at last.

"Youve never visited Elyssian space before?"

Blaine shakes his head. "No, this is my first time. My most recent and numerous assignments with Ambassador Dolloway have all been trade negotiations with the Hestari. Theyre much more alien, but their technology is straightforward and focused on the basics. The Ambassador appreciates that."

"She strikes me as a very practical woman, yes," Kurt says. Then his smile widens and he blinks at Blaine slowly. "You speak so well, I assumed youd been among us before."

"I merely had a good teacher," Blaine says.

"Your teacher had a good student," Kurt says, and Blaine has to look down then. He should not indulge the flattery of his host.

"So, um," he says, "You mentioned other features?"

Kurts smile returns to its more modest, professional level, and he shows Blaine to his own private rooms adjoining the Ambassadors suite. The sleeping chamber has the same broad transparent wall, and the bed is easily more than four times the dimensions of his cot on the Mercury. The bedding materials and generous array of pillows—rather than the plain synthetic wools and cottons hes used to—are shimmery, plush, and rich with color. Much like the doors, the palette is blue, indigo, violet, and crimson. Colors of the Apathean Commonwealth, and Blaine understands this is by Kurts design. The room is uncluttered beyond that, a polished wooden bureau for his clothes, a mirror above it, and a pair of short tables flank the bed with nothing more than glass lamps atop them.

Blaine can sense Kurts attention is on him. "This will be fine," Blaine says.

"Theres a small private sitting room, too," Kurt says, "where you may work or meditate, as well as your own bathing facilities."

"Oh, thats—" Blaine was going to say, more than he needs. Hes accustomed to sharing such facilities with his colleagues and the Ambassador. He has not had such privacy since he was a child in his parents home after his brother left. A glance at Kurts face makes Blaine realize that hospitality is important enough here that he needs to be gracious as well as honest. "This is more than ample, Master Hummel. I believe my last vacation was less well-appointed."

Kurts smile is worth it, and Blaine lets himself look and linger upon the beauty of Kurts face. Simple aesthetic appreciation isnt a gross dereliction of his morals after all. Theres no good reason not to enjoy his time here. The Ambassador considers such indulgences a privilege of youth even as she dismisses their importance. "Youll understand with time, Mr. Anderson," she has told him more than once. "The transience of these delights can bring only grief. Diligence to our duty is what endures, not small. shiny trifles, no matter how they distract and tempt. Anything you desire, once attained, may be lost—no," she would always correct, "they will be lost. You cant avoid it, its the way of life. So its far better to temper such childish impulses. To be a man is to conduct yourself with wisdom and temperance. Incorporate those virtues into your practice, and youll go far."

"Im so pleased to hear it," Kurt says and clasps his hands together. "I wish for your stay to be comfortable."

The irony is, Blaine can see the truth of the Ambassadors instruction in Kurt. The flash of his disappointment at the Ambassadors dismissal is a kind of pain caused by the frustration of desire, and his delight at Blaines acceptance of his efforts is the fulfillment of a transient wish (for Blaine well knows that theres little Kurt could do or not do that would affect the Ambassadors work here). Blaine is still learning how to balance those impulses in himself. Sometimes he thinks his sincere pursuit of excellence is a kind of desire, and he worries that he may enjoy his successes too much. But he reminds himself that the Ambassadors approval validates his hard work. Her disapproval means hes failed. Its not truly about the trifles of his ego, but the scope of the work to which he contributes.

"And please," Kurt says, bringing Blaine out of his contemplation. "I prefer that you call me Kurt. We are friends today, are we not, Blaine?"

Despite the echo of the formal words, there is warmth in Kurts eyes. They dont know each other well enough for Blaine to claim true friendship, but he understands Kurts words to be sincere, and he is here to be friends of a sort. "Of course, Kurt," he says.

The bathroom is the most ostentatious room for attending to hygiene that Blaine has ever encountered. Its large enough for a small bed, to start with. Then theres a bathtub which is larger than a bed. To fill such a vessel with water, and for the purposes of lingering in it while bathing—a task which can be accomplished far more efficiently in the pressure showers he grew up with—seems, at best, wasteful of time and resource. But Blaine listens as Kurt shows him how to fill the tub, how to manage the jets and add scented oils or bubbling foam or effervescent mixtures designed to soothe tired muscles or refresh a tired mind.

"Thank you," Blaine says at the end of Kurts spiel. "But Ill be using the shower."

Kurt has one more surprise for him, however. In the sitting room (a refreshingly modest and functional space) upon the console table is an array of refreshments: small snack-sized treats and an array of beverages. Blaine recognizes the cinnamon dusted butter cookies, the lemon wafers, and the savory cheese and walnut turnovers immediately, though he has had none of them in over a decade. "How did you…?" Blaine trails off, stunned.

Kurt arches an eyebrow and the corner of his lips quirks up. "Im very good at my job. I only hope the chef staff have prepared the food accurately. I enjoyed their samples."

"I havent eaten any of these for years," Blaine explains. "They were childhood treats my grandmother made for me." Blaine turns to Kurt, unsettled now in a wholly new way. No one he works with knows this about him. Its personal—an old trifling luxury meant to have been left behind with the other excesses of childhood. "Please tell me how you came by this knowledge, Kurt?"

Kurts smile fades into concern. He speaks carefully. "When were hosting new guests, I have my staff put together a dossier on each person well be hosting. Its based solely on publicly available information, I promise you."

"And my favorite childhood foods?"

"Your school records were among the information my staff collected, Blaine. Many would skip such details as trivial, but I find special insight into a person if I consider their youth. You wrote an essay about your grandmothers cooking when you were ten."

The memory of it returns to him, awkwardly, like it belongs to an alternate dimension or time—or to another person entirely. Its an ill fit with his current occupation. "I did, youre right."

"Have I upset you?" Kurt asks.

Blaine shakes his head to spare Kurt the truth that he is upset, not angry but unsettled in an unexpected way. "Youve just surprised me."

But Kurt seems to know. His face goes blank and he speaks coolly, "I can have the food removed, if you would prefer that."

"Itll be fine," Blaine says, and this he does mean. "Dinner is a few hours away. Ill be grateful for a snack."

"All right," Kurt says with a nod of acceptance, though he remains wary in his demeanor. Theres an uncomfortable silence between them. Then Kurt offers a short, stiff bow and says, "If you have no further need of me, I shall leave you to settle in. Your luggage should arrive soon."

But as Kurt turns to leave, Blaine cant stop the impulse that overtakes him, to try to salvage something of Kurts earlier warmth and openness. "Wait," Blaine says, and then he surprises himself as he blurts out a question, "Will I see you at the dinner reception tonight?"

Kurt glances back over his shoulder and offers a noncommittal, "Perhaps."