Samuel shook his head disapprovingly, but still a snicker escaped him. “Hera also went behind him murdering his lovers, too. I’d like to keep my bunch of mortals intact, O’ powerful one.” he taunted him with a pointed look. Sam had always gone after his friend for his strange relationship with his wife, but only between themselves, and in good fun. With the rest of the lot, if anyone dared to question Spencer they went through him first, and he made sure they knew not to ask again.
“Spence, fucking the tears away is not an acceptable firing method. I don’t think the lawyers would be too happy about it.” he scolded teasingly, knowing his friend too well. The man found anything arousing, though it was to be expected. Who else could run a club like this, after all?
The way his friend fixated on his neck didn’t go unnoticed to Samuel, as he adjusted the neck of his dress shirt to cover what was a very impressive bruise. As he felt his friend drilling holes into him still, he sighed resignedly and clenched his jaw. “Come on, go ahead. Say it.” he egged him on, defensive.
As usual, Sam had been right and wrong at the same time. Their banter was always a treat to be had with one another; surely, when it came to everyone else that worked here, Spencer considered him to be an equal. A title unworthy to most these days. “Luckily, the Hera I know plays nice with everyone. Why should she tear everyone to shreds when she can have her cake and eat it too?”
Spencer flagged down a waiter suddenly, wanting a bottle of Hennessy and a two glasses to drink from. Brown liquor was his weakness, but for the sake of the moment, he would sure endure what was going to follow: a drunken mess. “Why not? Draft up a couple of NDA’s and the challenge is all set.” As fucked up as it was, it was all empty air coming from Spencer. He wouldn’t go through with it, but the idea does seem like a little fun.
When the topic of Sam’s neck came about, Spencer acted as though he wasn’t aware of what was going on. But damn, he couldn’t deny the curiosity about the bruise’s origins. What would it be, exactly? “Say what...? Talk about that werewolf bite on your neck?” To even get his skin color to a bruised state seemed to be more difficult than the norm, and whoever was the culprit of it was on a mission to mark him for clout. Who was it exactly? “I’ll bite...Okay that wasn’t the best choice of words, but what happened?”