Are you fucking kidding me. 

He does not say that out loud, because of course he doesn't. 

"Thanks." 

Well, then, Fairy Godmother will move on to the next question!

"If you're looking for a friend, should you:

A. Find people with your values?
B. Do little immoral things so you won't be a drag on friendships?"

"You should make friends with anyone you can make friends with and then do whatever you have to to keep those friendships." 

Carlos is nodding enthusiastically.

"No, you should make sure that you're only friends with good people!"

"On the Isle there aren't any good people around and you still gotta eat and not get punched." 

"That was very sad, but now you're in Auradon."

"I didn't have any friends on the Isle because there weren't any good people to be friends with."

"See? You should be more like Claudine."

Literally nobody should be more like Claudine, including Claudine. 

The takeaway from this lesson is that everything Fairy Godmother says can be written off as bullshit. Probably they weren't intending to teach him that but whatever. 

He misses Nat and he misses Nico and he wishes he could hug Carlos but like, it's whatever. He spends time with Charlotte and her friends, although he suspects the novelty of his existence might start to wear off soon; he goes to her parties and balls and charity events and other big fancy parties with assorted names he remembers maybe a third of. 

You know what's boring?

Parties are boring.

He sneaks out into the backyard and climbs a tree.

Parties are sometimes interesting, but everyone is done telling Charlotte about how they think he's charming after having heard him speak zero (0) times and the only people left who want to talk to him want to talk to him like he's a three year old and Charlotte is wrapped up in her friends and he doesn't see anyone else his age here and long story short how about instead he goes outside. 

There's someone up a tree. A black someone, which is already interesting at a party as white as this one. "Hi," he says, and is careful not to be too audibly enthusiastic about it. 

The black someone flips around so he's hanging by his legs upside down off the branch. 

"Haven't seen you around before."

"I'm new in town." 

He could mention Charlotte. He doesn't. He doesn't especially want this person thinking of him as the villain kid instead of just as a person. "What's your name?" 

"Very nice of you to ask about the names of the help. Bet that lets you sleep well at night."

It's flippant. 

"— oh, and here I was wondering whether this was a more interesting party than they usually are. Nah, I just think calling you 'the guy in the tree' is going to get annoying for both of us fast." 

He jumps out of the tree and it looks like he's about to land flat on his face when at the very last second he twists and he's standing on his feet.

"Well, now I'm not in the tree."

Holy shit. 

"That's true!" he says, openly appreciative. 

"You sure you should be talking to me? Could be against the rules around here. I've heard all sorts of bad things about black men in Louisiana."

"You're kind of obviously the most interesting person here. I think I'll take my chances."

And gorgeous, don't forget gorgeous. 

"That's me. Interesting person, can take you to interesting parties."

Maybe he should get a little bit into Sasha's personal space.

(He's six feet tall and he could probably pick Sasha up with one hand.)

"Maybe I should take you up on that offer some time." 

He really could, couldn't he. Sasha doesn't disguise the way his eyes follow the guy's arms and shoulders. 

"Maybe," he suggests, "you should take me up on that offer right now."

He doesn't appear to notice Sasha looking at him.

He pauses. Glances back at where he knows Charlotte is. 

"— She won't notice. Sure."