"Victoria!"

Victoria turns toward the voice calling her name. She's already on the edges of the crowd - a favored position even among those she knows well - but backs further to peer across it, sighing as she finally catches sight of Héctor perched on a railing and teetering precariously as he waves.

"Get down from there!" she calls back, already leaning toward exasperation as she makes her way toward him. Héctor laughs but obligingly hops down as he answers.

"Aw, you're worried about me?"

She doesn't reply to that, rolling her eyes as she moves along the edges of the crowd. Héctor watches her approach, dividing attention between her and the plaza below, and once she's a few feet away he steps close with a smile and a softer tone.

"I'm glad to see you - I was surprised you weren't at home today!" His tone is bright as he speaks to her; Victoria isn't sure what to make of his clear enthusiasm, given how little she's spoken to him compared to Rosita or the twins. Not that he ever fails to greet her when they do encounter each other, but Victoria has still been deciding what to make of him. Until she can, she hasn't been especially eager to strike up a conversation.

Perhaps that's a mistake. It might be easier to make a decision if she does talk with him, and he plainly wants to talk with her; she appreciates the willingness to give her space, but she can't stay on the edges of the situation forever.

"What brings you out here?" he asks. "Household shopping, that's usually on Tuesdays, isn't it?"

Victoria nods, unsurprised that he's learned the household schedule; he's been visiting every day, after all, and it doesn't take much to pick up on Imelda's carefully structured routines.

"Yes, but I needed something for my bird - you've seen her, the caracara?"

"Oh!" he says, nodding. "That great big one, usually sits in the yellow pine?"

"That's the one. Ignacia."

"I thought she might be yours." Héctor studies her a moment. "A bird suits you."

Victoria nods slowly at that, tone thoughtful as she replies.

"I suppose? I never gave it much consideration, but… Tía Rosita and I used to keep birds, parrotlets." It's a clear, warming memory: Rosita bustling around a small flock of chirping (never whistling) birds, cooing over their attempts to mimic the sounds of the shop and gently transferring them to Victoria or Elena's fingers whenever they asked. "Or rather she did, and gave one to me when I was a little girl - also Ignacia. I had her for several years. Not as… exciting… as some of the other pets in the family, but even so."

Héctor considers that a moment, watching Victoria as he mulls this information over.

"Victoria, I don't know how to tell you this," he says at last, giving her a grave look; she furrows her brow at the unexpected seriousness, her hands fluttering to her chest as he speaks. "But that bird? Is not a parrotlet."

Victoria stares at him, at a loss in the face of such a blandly delivered bit of absurdity, and for a long moment they only look at each other in silence.

"That was a joke," he says at last, still completely serious. No - not completely, she realizes: he's not smiling, but there's something in the set of his face that tells her he's struggling against laughter. Victoria straightens her back, crossing her arms and leveling a stern glare at him before she can think too much on the familiarity in the expression.

"I am aware," she says coolly. Héctor finally gives in to laughter, shaking his head as he watches her.

"Good, I was starting to worry! But it stands to reason you'd have a bird." He grins, and Victoria stares back in her best imitation of Imelda's stern, unamused glares. "Flitting at the edge of the crowd like a bird yourself - a little pájarita."

"Pájarita?" she repeats, flatly disbelieving; Héctor only smiles, something a bit questioning in the expression - trying to gauge if she actually dislikes it, she realizes. She also realizes she isn't quite sure.

Looking at it honestly, she is much too old to be given silly nicknames - and yet….

"If you want to hear from a little bird, try Tía Rosita," she ventures at last, careful to keep her voice lukewarm. "She'll tell you everything you want to hear and more."

Héctor blinks at her, brows raising. Then he laughs as he snaps his fingers and points at her, delight in every inch of him.

"Ah ha! She jokes!"

"It wasn't a very good one," Victoria says slowly, looking away. "I'm not a joking sort."

"Untrue. You can't say you're not a joking sort three seconds after joking - you've got to give it time to fade before you can be convincing. Besides, jokes are all in the delivery." He pauses, waiting for her to look at him again, and grins when she does. "...pequeña pájarita."

Victoria fights off a laugh, managing to contain it to the tiniest puff of air through her nose, and tips her chin down to stare at him over her glasses.

"Have you always been this obnoxious? Or are you making up for lost time?"

"Eh, probably somewhere between." He watches her a moment, soft-eyed, and then laughs again - a gentler, almost indulgent chuckle. "You're solike Imelda."

Victoria sniffs, looking away again.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is."

She isn't sure how to respond to that, so she doesn't, instead walking to the railing to see what Héctor had been looking at before he'd spotted her. There's a band below - music, of course it was music, and it was only her long-held habit of shutting it out and ignoring it that had prevented her noticing it before. Now that she has noticed she's a bit dismayed to find herself as captivated as he had been; she can't deny its pull even so, and she's leaning forward to look as Héctor comes to her side.

"You like this style?"

Victoria hesitates; even now admitting to enjoying the melodies drifting over the streets feels like a failure, a lapse of self-control. But the guitar layering into the other instruments brings to mind the joy in her grandmother's face only a few weeks before, and it's hard to keep a smile at bay as she listens.

"I do," she says at last, hesitantly; beside her Héctor nods and she turns to face him. "Do you?"

"Yes," he says immediately. "But, you know - any type of music is worth listening to at least once." He shrugs as he leans back on the railing, arms draped comfortably and ankles crossed. "Even if something doesn't appeal to you personally, someone loves it, connects with people through it. So that makes it worthwhile, don't you think?"

"Mm." Victoria can't bring herself to fully mimic his absurdly relaxed demeanor, but she does lean against the rail beside him, forearms crossed in a not-quite-prim posture. "To be honest, I always thought music was cursed. Not in general. But for us." Héctor looks at her, tilting his head in an invitation to continue, and she sighs. "It was always something. Mamá used to go out and dance when Abuelita wasn't paying attention. It finally caught up: she fell, quite badly, and hurt herself. Once, Papá distracted himself humming while he was working, and he broke his finger. Something always went wrong, somehow. A curse."

"I see." Héctor nods slowly. "And… what do you think now?"

"I think…." She folds her hands, staring at them as she organizes her thoughts. "I think there was a curse - but it wasn't your fault. I think that de la Cruz laid it when he… betrayed you, stole… everything . Bitterness helped it sink its roots in. And then the longer it went, the deeper it rooted. Until Miguel lifted it when he brought you and your music back where it belongs." Victoria shrugs slightly. "At least, that's what I think. My sister is wiser about curses than I am, but with luck it will be quite some time before we can consult her."

"Elena," Héctor says. Victoria nods, and she can see him filing that information away: Elena The Curse Expert. She's seen him grow sharply attentive whenever family member is mentioned, really, and she wonders what he's heard and decided about her. "I think that's a pretty good analysis of the situation, personally," he adds, But it'll be interesting to hear what she thinks too - in quite some time, as you say."

"Yes." She allows silence to fall, absently tapping her fingers to the music and noticing Héctor tapping along in nearly the same motion until he turns to her.

"Say, Victoria - do you want to learn?"

She blinks, still caught up in thoughts of curses and music and her sister, and shakes her head once to clear it.

"Learn?"

"Yes. To sing, or play?" He pushes off from the railing and whirls to face her, bowing slightly, one hand holding his hat behind his back and the other extended to her. "Or even… to dance?" Victoria hesitates, and he smiles, voice taking on a mildly wheedling tone. "I won't let you fall. I promise."

"I… don't know," she murmurs, and Héctor's smile only widens.

"Well - I do. You'd be a great dancer! I could tell your grandmother would be a great singer, and I can tell with you too."

Victoria tilts her head, raising a brow.

" You taught her how to sing?"

"Taught her? Nah, of course not, she knew perfectly well - but who do you think convinced her to sing in the market square when we were kids?"

"Convinced her to what ?"

He laughs at her shock, nodding.

"Yes, almost every time we met there for awhile." His tone shifts, going wistful. "And for awhile, almost every time we went together."

Victoria is silent again, marveling at how easy it is to envision it: Imelda's voice and Héctor's guitar, soaring over the bustle of a busy late afternoon just as they had over the Sunrise Spectacular crowd. Strange how recently that would have been unthinkable; even now it's a surreal notion, and she needs a moment to really absorb such an idea.

"It's all right if you don't want to, you know," Héctor says after a moment. "Dance, or… any of that."

"It had better be," she replies, peering at him over her glasses again, "considering how long I've managed without."

"Ah." He grimaces, looking away as he rubs at the back of his neck. "Y-yes. Quite a… long time." He falters, shoulders stooping a bit, and Victoria sighs softly.

"Oh, stop that pouting." She stands at her tallest as he looks back at her, blinking. "I haven't actually made a decision yet. But as it is, it's getting late - and I still haven't gotten what I came for."

"Hm?" He straightens up a bit, the guilty look dropping from his face as he tips his hat back to peer at the sun. "I guess it is getting late, isn't it... I'll see you tomorrow, then, all right?"

"I'm sure you will," Victoria says evenly. "Goodbye, then."

"Nos vemos!" He waves as he heads off down the street; Victoria watches him go, contemplative, before deciding there's something she has to know.

"Héctor! How did you convince her to sing in the market square?"

"I gave her some apples!" he calls back, a laugh in his voice as he waves again. Victoria blinks as she watches him weave through the crowd, considering that; she's never known her grandmother to be particularly fond of apples.

Then again, she never knew her to be fond of music either.

She's going to need the rest of that story eventually; as it is, when she returns home it's with a basket of apples that she sets on Imelda's desk before hurrying away from her grandmother's puzzled stare.

When Héctor leaves the shop after his daily visit a week later Victoria sets her needlework aside and gets up to follow him, ignoring questioning glances from her father and aunt. Óscar and Felipe are sitting near the door with their heads together in the way that always makes Imelda purse her lips suspiciously, and they both look up as Victoria pauses in the entryway.

"Did you see which way he went?" she asks, and her great uncles exchange grins before looking at her again.

"Headed north," Óscar says, "toward the main thoroughfares."

"Have fun, Victoria," Felipe adds. She rolls her eyes in response but doesn't contradict him as she hurries out.

Héctor is easy to spot - tall enough that she can see his straw hat over the heads of most of the people roaming the streets, and his purple jacket now sports an absurd yellow patch peeking over the edge of the battered guitar he's always carrying, details that make him stand out even more. She hurries after him, calling out as she reaches to catch his wrist.

"Héctor!"

He turns to her, blinking, and immediately breaks into a wide, cheerful grin as he recognizes her.

"Victoria! I thought you were tied up with that order… you're free today after all, pájarita?"

She gives him a flat look but doesn't otherwise respond to the nickname this time, holding silence as she tries to decide how to phrase her request. Héctor's expression shifts under her stare, cheerfulness slipping toward uncertainty, and she frowns as she studies him.

It's odd, really looking at him - long face, pointed chin, absurdly prominent cheekbones even as skeletons go, all of it more familiar than she's let herself realize thus far. Victoria has always thought she looked like her grandmother, and still does, but...

"I've made my decision," she says before she can follow that train of thought too far. "You are going to teach me to dance."

The blunt statement gets a chuckle out of him, his uncertain look giving way to amusement and relief.

"Well, sure I am! That's my job, isn't it?"

There's an almost painful hope in his voice at the question; Victoria nods gravely, and he smiles as he leads her from the street to a more secluded area. It's above the same plaza they'd been looking out over days ago, and just as before there's a slight crowd surrounding a small band. Héctor listens a moment, head bobbing to the tune as he addresses her.

"Ah - I know this one. It's an easy starting point."

"Good." Now that she's committed to the idea, Victoria's confidence is slipping, her tone more apprehensive than she'd like. "I… don't know the first thing about where to begin, so…."

"Hm." Héctor glances at the musicians and then at her; the softening expression tells her he's picked up on her nerves, and while the enthusiasm hasn't left his voice it's gentler when he speaks again. "Well… naturally, that's the point of learning." He tucks his hands behind his back and tilts his head a touch, smiling as she mimics the motion. "But let's start with this - what do you know how to do?"

"Make shoes." She shrugs as Héctor nods, wondering where he could possibly be going with this.

"Yes, of course - and do you enjoy it, pájarita?"

That silly endearment again. Victoria draws her mouth tight, but nods in answer.

"I do."

"Good! We're on the way then!" He claps twice, stepping forward, and before Victoria can ask what on earth he's talking about he's seized her hands and drawn her a bit away from the railing. "I don't know much about shoes. But there's a rhythm to hammering things together, yes?"

"I suppose." She sniffs, shifting her grip on his hands. "If a bit crudely put."

"Sorry. What's the right term?"

"It depends. Hammering will do for now," she says, only a bit grudgingly. "So what is the point of this?"

He smiles, swinging her hands, matching movement to the metre of the music.

"That it's a steady rhythm, so you know that part. And you know stitching as well?"

"Certainly."

"Good! Now, like this." He tugs gently, pulling her along with him, steps suited to the music. "Find the rhythm. Count if you need to - ¡uno, dos, tres! - like that."

She follows him, frowning as she watches their feet. And it is easy: fitting her steps to the rhythm of the band below comes as naturally as fitting herself to the rhythm of a roomful of busy relatives, and despite herself she's starting to smile as Héctor speaks up again.

"Yes! Just like that! Now - let the music be the needle, and you be the thread! Let it pull you along! Steady and even, and then once you have your base you can get a little more decorative!"

"That's not exactly how it works," she grumbles half-heartedly. Still, it helps, and even once Héctor releases her hands she has little trouble following him through an easy pattern.

"Looks like it is how it works here, though, doesn't it?" There's approving laughter in his voice as he takes a half-step back, raising a hand to make a spinning gesture; Victoria obliges cautiously, and smiles again at the way her skirt spirals around her with the movement. "Just a bit more flair in the turn there." He spins again himself to demonstrate, grinning at her as he comes out of it. "Loosen up! Don't be afraid, I won't let you fall."

"I'm not. And I know you won't." It's true, she realizes; even after releasing her hands he hasn't strayed out of reach, and when she attempts the spin again she can see him half-reaching in case she should lose her balance.

"Good! Now, move your head like this and you won't get dizzy."

As before, he demonstrates - and keeps demonstrating, a beat ahead of the music so that her movements fit into the melody when she follows his spry steps and teasing, coaxing voice. Always ready to lead her back into the rhythm if she lost it, always ready to steady her if she falters, and she can't remember why she was ever nervous over the idea as she breaks away from him to execute a series of flamboyant spins on her own.

"How was that?" she asks as she finishes. Héctor laughs, delighted, and claps as he comes close again.

"Perfect! You're a natural!"

There's warmth and pride glowing in his face and voice, and she blinks at him in a sort of wonder. On an intellectual level, Victoria knows that this man is her grandfather - but now, seeing his expression and hearing his tone, it truly strikes her that this man is her grandfather .

"And how do you feel? Are you having fun?"

Victoria is quiet a moment - thinking of curses and admonitions and her grandmother's stern stare, thinking of her grandmother's triumphant laugh after La Llorona and fingers tapping in tandem and how curiously light she feels now, in this moment.

"Yes," she says at last, furtive but fervent; in some small way it still feels like confessing a sin, but that lingering apprehension is fading fast in the face of how the music and the movement make her feel . Even so, it's a lot to take in - and she does still have work to finish, and can well imagine how Imelda would say to her putting off work to dance. So she looks away, back toward toward home, and sighs. "But… I should return to the shop."

His expression flickers briefly before lighting up again, his voice bright as he replies.

"All right then - I'll see you later?"

"Yes - I'd like to learn more. So I'll look for you later…."

She looks at him a long moment, studying his strangely familiar features and warm, hopeful expression.

"...Abuelito," she finishes firmly. Héctor stares at her a moment, looking as if he might burst into tears or simply burst with joy when he smiles at her, and Victoria can't help smiling back as he replies.

"I'll look forward to it!"

It's another few days before Victoria has the free time to seek out more lessons, and while she chats with Héctor often enough in that span - his bubbling enthusiasm butting gently against her staid reserve - the gap leaves her restless. She catches herself tapping along to Rosita's humming more often than not. She catches herself humming and tapping along to that too, and while she's certainly not distracted she can certainly see how someone with less discipline might be.

Still, rushes rarely last long - and at last she's able to follow Héctor as he leaves, falling into step beside him as they reach the street.

"I'm free today," she tells him. "If you are."

"For you? Of course!" He grins at her, sweeping a hand toward the source of the music. "Come on - let's actually go down to where they are today."

She follows without protest, watching him bound down the stairs to the plaza below like an overexcited dog and allowing him to take her hand as she comes off the last few steps herself.

"Ready for another lesson, bailarina?" he asks as he releases her. Victoria blinks at the new nickname, frowning slightly; she can't argue it, precisely, but it feels a bit jarring compared to that silly bird name he's been calling her. Less personal, perhaps.

"What happened to 'pájarita'?" she asks at last, and she's rather proud of how neutral it sounds. Still, just as she expected Héctor isn't fooled: he snaps his fingers and points at her, grinning.

"Ah ha! She likes it!"

She shrugs, folding her hands placidly.

"It's not the worst thing I've been called, really."

Victoria expects him to laugh, to show the same delight at her attempt at joking he has before - so she's startled when he turns to face her, drawing up to his full height, consternation clear on his angular face.

"What? What does that-who's been calling you names?" He sounds utterly scandalized, his tone wavering somewhere between baffled and horrified as he gingerly places his hands on her shoulders. "Has someone been calling you mean names, Victoria?"

Victoria stares up at him, wide-eyed. The concern on his face is familiar, sparking memories of coming home in tears she tried so hard to hide as she went to her work station, of her mother's immediate what's the matter, mija ? and her grandmother marching out to Have A Word With Their Mothers. Héctor looks somewhere between the two, and she suspects he might actually go looking if she told him someone had been mistreating her.

The absurdity of a woman her age being treated like a bullied schoolgirl finally breaks through her astonishment, and Victoria starts laughing as she shakes her head. Héctor blinks and backs up a half-step, worry starting to give way to bewilderment, and she shakes her head again.

"Not for quite a long time, no." She clears her throat and stifles her laughter, peering at him over her glasses. "Do you really think I wouldn't deal with it myself, if it happened now?"

"Well, er - no, I think… you probably would deal with it pretty good," he says, tone uncertain as he gives her a small smile. "After all, you're…."

"...so like Imelda?" Victoria finishes.

"I was going to say 'extremely capable'." His smile widens as he shrugs. "But yes - that too."

"Well. I did learn it somewhere," she says, mirroring his shrug. Héctor makes an amused, wordless sound of agreement, and they both turn their attention to the day's music, both moving in time to the band. The same movement, Victoria realizes, down to the way his fingers and hers tap along with the flow of the music and twitch lightly as if they can direct its course.

Imelda isn't the only one she's like, and the thought fills her with unexpected warmth as she turns to him.

"Abuelito?"

"Hm?" Even after days of hearing it he still looks at her with the same undisguised joy as the first time she'd said it, and she finds herself smiling as she leans on the railing beside him.

"You're right. I do like 'pájarita'."

Héctor blinks, watching her a moment before reaching out to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her tight against his side for just a moment.

"Good. That's good - I'll keep that in mind, mija."

There's a faint quaver in his voice - absurdly emotional, Héctor - and Victoria shakes her head slightly as she answers.

"Don't press your luck. One childish name is enough."

He isn't fooled for a moment; the waver in his voice gives way to laughter when he responds.

"Okay, pájarita."

She harrumphs, but leans against him just for a moment before pulling away, following the rhythm of the music. This time, there's no apprehension or guilt - only Victoria's quiet, delighted realization that in this moment she wants nothing more than to dance.