Solo

“Flying solo tonight, Maxwell?”

“Funny, Chang, unbelievably so.” He tugged on his gloves, tightened his scarf, checked his flight goggles.

“You can’t blame me - you chose your own name.” Chang looked older now, with short hair, but his face was as severe and serious as he’d been when he was sixteen. Walker might have suspected he’d cut his ponytail in response to Maxwell’s repeated taunts that he was the way he was because his ponytail was too tight, but Chang didn’t seem the like type who would be ruffled by something like that.

“That I did.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I’m flying solo tonight.”

The corner of Chang’s mouth curved up in a genuine smile. “Always evasive and yet never lying.”

Maxwell’s smile might have been sunny on someone else who didn’t have those shadows in his eyes. “What can I say? I was Maxwell’s demon.”

Chang sang, voice surprisingly melodic, “Six feet down at age twenty-five.”

Maxwell nudged his shoulder playfully. “I didn’t think you were the type.”

“I have culture,” Chang said.

“That’s what you to call it.”

“So, Maxwell’s demon rides again?”

“The God of Death is back from hell.”

(Word count: 200 on the nose, references to Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing; lyrics from The Ballad of Maxwell Demon by Shudder to Think)