What Susie wants, really, is what she’s always wanted: a little recognition. She wants George to fuck Toto — if that’s what they’re going to do — and think of his wife.
It's not quite the same, Hector muses, on the brink of sleep.
"It isn't, is it?"
He blinks himself back to the waking world. "Didn't realize I'd said that out loud."
Tucked snug against his side as his friend is, Hector feels Retsarra laughing silently, the faintest tremor. Retsarra lifts his head from Hector's shoulder, peering up at him. "But you're right. This was..." He frowns, searching for the right word. "A favor. A kindness."
A favor.
Retsarra had turned up on Hector's doorstep, looking brittle in a way only someone who knew him well could have possibly detected: hairline cracks in the Howling Blade's armor of the like Hector hasn't seen in months. He'd all but dragged Retsarra inside, and coaxed the story out of him over the course of the evening.
Not that there was much to tell, in the end. Or much that Retsarra was willing to tell.
Eutrope had left him.
Hector wasn't quite willing to fake grief at her departure, but he clamped down on his elation long enough to say something reasonably compassionate. Her loss, maybe. But the breakup itself is odd, isn't it, when for all he knew, they'd been doing well? If there'd been trouble brewing under the surface, Retsarra hadn't seen fit to tell him, and he didn't spend enough time with the two of them together to sense it. But Retsarra also wasn't willing to speak at any length about the breakup itself. Why she'd left. Why he'd let her go.
It seemed like a bad idea to pry. There were currents there, and Hector had a feeling Retsarra was barely keeping his head above water as it was, whatever the truth might be.
So he'd let it go, and spent the evening instead on trying to raise Retsarra's flagging spirits. He'd even coaxed a smile or two that didn't resemble the Howling Blade's carved and practiced mask. And eventually Retsarra had dozed off on Hector's couch. And there Hector had been content to leave him for the night, tossing a blanket over him on his own way to bed.
And then somewhere in the dark hours of the night, Retsarra had slipped into bed with him.
They'd been lovers for a while, when they'd first joined the Arcadion; the dance was familiar, it'd just been a while. It didn't occur to Hector to turn him down, but maybe it should have: it wasn't him Retsarra wanted, not really; he just wanted company and reassurance, and there had to be better options. But it was hard to think of all the reasons they shouldn't in the midst of the fact that they were, and there was always going to be a part of Hector's brain that wholly ceased functioning any time Retsarra's skin touched his.
He wasn't a good enough man to regret it afterward. They'd seldom cuddled as lovers, but Retsarra seemed to need the closeness tonight, and Hector couldn't regret that, either.
A favor.
He snorts. "Some favor. A favor to you or me?"
"Me." In the half-light, Retsarra's expression turns pensive. "I shouldn't have-"
"Shut up," Hector says, using his free hand to push Retsarra's head back down to his shoulder. "How much action do you think I'm getting these days? Seems like it was as much a favor to me."
He feels Retsarra's tail twitch against his leg, and immediately, he regrets his words. He can feel Retsarra brighten. "Is that so? Perhaps if I introduced you to someone-"
"Do not."
"Oh, come now," Retsarra says, sitting up. Hector stifles an unexpected pang of loss as his friend leaves his embrace - but Retsarra's smiling again, and perhaps that makes up for it. "I know plenty of men who would-"
"I don't want-"
"You're a good man, Hector, and you deserve-"
"I am not a good man, I'm the godsdamned Brute Bomber!"
"Not in bed, you aren't," Retsarra says, grinning. "In bed, you're as sweet as a kitten."
His face heats. "I am not."
"You are." Retsarra reaches up to smooth Hector's hair out of his face, gazing contemplatively at him in the darkness. His touch lingers, fingers resting light on Hector's temple. "Just say the word, and I'll set you up with someone who might treat you right."
Why's his mouth gone dry? Damn you, Retsarra. "I've said the word," he growls. "It's just that the word is no, and you're a wretched spoiled brat who never learned it!"
It makes Retsarra laugh.
"Very well, as you wish," the teasing bastard says, settling back down at Hector's side, draping his arm across the hyune's broad chest. "But my offer stands, if you change your mind."
Are you that eager to see me with someone else? Hector scowls, but he can't resist winding his own hand around Retsarra's, mindful of the old scars. "Go to sleep, before I make you sleep on the floor."
The door of Sugar's room opens for a moment as Shadow Milk sticks his head out to see what's going on.
...?
Hrm.
He closes it and returns to the pillowed cloud only to flop back down upon it. It is Sloth day and he's mun ordained indulging himself and his giddy pink friend by lazing away.
