I was surrounded. Armand, also known as Husband Cassie. Gary. Art Deco was here, the looming Maker in his metal shell. Husband Schmendrick. And Ezra, for no reason I could see.

But then, I could see no reason for any of it. I just wanted to go on a second date with the most marvelous girl in the world. And see a movie. Why was all this happening?

Cassie, that's why. Procedures.

Armand examined me critically. "Gary, do you have anything we can do to make him smell better?"

"Nothing has worked, ever, and I've tried. All Humans stink horribly and Owen is the most Human-smelling."

"No, I mean like…cologne, something he can add to his own aroma."

"What a terrible idea."

Ezra raised his hand. "Axe body spray, that's a thing guys do, right?"

The Radio was playing a song:

"I want a zoot suit with a reet pleat

And a drape shape, and a stuff cuff

To look sharp enough to see my Sunday gal…"

Husband Schmendrick: "Do you have your courtship song? Do you have your courtship dance?"

Art Deco: "Warning: Mating can be violent and hazardous for the male. Frequent fatalities occur in Maker society, as the Queen is greater than all. Suggestion: armor and an escape maneuver such as rocketry or a funicular railway."

Armand: "Let's start with a shirt. You never wear one. Or shoes. What's up with that, anyway?"

I shrugged. "Don't wanna. Hate shoe laces, hate shirts."

He nodded. "If you don't wear a shirt, she can't tear it off you," he said wisely. "Art, can you make a shirt with buttons down the front? Like this," he said, and began drawing on a nearby chalk board.

"He can't see the markings," I said. "That color's invisible to him, use the big crayon one."

Husband Schmendrick: "Owen, watch me. Like this. Like this." He bowed, the bottom of his neck touching the floor, his head still pointing at me, maintaining eye contact. He spun in place, his head still aimed at me for the most part, a coil of motion and agility. He froze, and his ears flipped up and down wildly. "Now you do it."

"I can't do any of that, Husband. But it's really great."

"Yes!" he said. "You are very smart for a Human person."

Armand: "See this, Art? Like this. The sleeves…these things, they're where his arms go. Can you make the buttons magnets? That way she can tear it off him more easily. And then have them stick together again, in case she feels like tearing it off a second time." He looked me in the eye and tapped his head, indicating great wisdom.

Art Deco: "Agreement: work order initiated." He rumbled over to his workbench, which was the floor, and got busy.

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Ezra leaped in the air like he'd been shocked. "Flowers!" he yelled, and ran from the room.

Husband Schmendrick: "Sing your courtship song for us."

"I don't have one."

His long, pointy jaw dropped. His eyes became huge and his ears drooped. It was a very human expression.

"I'm sorry, Husband."

He began yowling. I didn't know if he was expressing horror at my lack of preparation or if that was his mating song. Was I supposed to be writing it down?

Gary produced a little can of something, sprayed me with a horrific cloud of evil. "Pheromones," he explained. "For Bees."

Everyone ran from the cloud, from me. Not everyone. One of the Big Smart Bees from the nearby garden came buzzing curiously over. They were dangerous, so I decided to be polite about this.

Cassie's movie, it turned out, was more of a stage play with multimedia elements. She'd told the Makers about it, and they hadn't understood much of what a theater was, but they'd done their best. It was nice.

The music section consisted of Ezra on drums, Elanor on guitar and Gary, of all people, on some sort of keyboard.

It surrounded him, each with a section of three round buttons devoted to his five hands. He was currently playing something, I think, but it wasn't designed for Human hearing and it just looked to me like he was smacking keys.

"I didn't know you liked playing, Gary."

"Because you are a fool. I'll have you know that songs are the one good thing about your entire ethnicity. And you can't even hear most of your own music!"

I wanted to ask him more about his appreciation of this Human art form, but he threatened me with violence so I let him practice.

The romantic tension between Ezra and Elanor was intense. They wouldn't look each other in the eye. When Elanor turned away, Ezra gazed desperately at her. When Ezra would focus on his drum kit, Elanor would put her chin in her hand, watching him with a Mona Lisa smile.

The two of them were dolled up. Elanor was a short, cute thing, delicate with dark hair and skin the color of dark honey. She had an interesting gown, apparently made entirely of silver sequins. She looked like a human disco ball. Her guitar had a single string; I found out later she only needed to play the one note on it.

You'd never know Ezra had faced down three big guys this afternoon and prevailed. He was flushed with excitement and nervousness. His drum kit wasn't much; it was a single bongo sort of thing with a big kick drum, which seemed to exist only to display their band name: "OG and the E Minors." If it was a joke I didn't get it.

"Oh my god I could just eat them up." Cassie said, watching Ezra and Elanor. She dressed the part, carrying a megaphone, wearing these strange puffy pants she called jodphurs, wearing a beret and white blouse with extravagant sleeves. She called it her Director Cosplay. "All these Humans, you going to be okay?"

"It was my idea."

"Oh that's right. Sean. It's…you did good there."

"Accident."

"Sure it was. What do you think of the setup?"

"It's incredible, Cassie, thank you for doing all of this." The stage was impressive, but the lawn covered with blankets was great. The little glowbeans, the things Gardeners used to light their way, criscrossed overhead with multicolored strings. And the Gardeners themselves drifted overhead, lit like living Chinese paper lanterns. I had no idea if they were part of the show or the audience, but their colors against the blue night sky were dreamlike, beautiful.

Humans, los Cazadores and two Makers were already present, parking on the lawn blankets. The grill was filling the air with deliciousness. There was a relaxed feel to the proceedings, if you didn't count the searing crushes the band members were dealing with.

"It's nice," I said to Cassie. "It's…a good date."

She grinned. "Glad to hear it from such a spiffy-looking dude. You're a good sport, Owen."

"Why thank you, is she–" But I stopped. Mandy was coming.

Taylor, I should mention, was nowhere in sight.

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