Phobos only spared a glance at the figure sitting down next to him at the bar, seemingly nonchalant - but when did the god of fear ever wear his heart on his sleeve? He knew exactly who his visitor was, and he had been waiting a long time to see if he embodied his reputation. If he was being honest with himself, it was a bit of an infatuation.
“I’m not used to seeing new faces at this hour,” he began. His words were straightforward, but the underlying tone was anything but. With only an imperceptible shift, he saw the shake in the other’s hands, the infection oozing through his mind. He wanted to see all the cracks in his exterior, take him apart piece by excrutiating piece. “Something on your mind?”
@the-bitch-of-egypt











