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Elliot was half expecting Skylar to start talking about how good looking Roderic was, and that was the only reason she liked him. He wasn’t expecting her to have an answer; nearly everything she said about the guy was negative, at least in Elliot’s opinion. The question had bubbled from his chest, Elliot now realised, not because he actually wanted to hear the reasons, but because he wanted her to stumble. It was mean. It wasn’t like Elliot at all. He was being unreasonable. But he wanted there to not be an answer; he wanted the reasons to only be shallow so he could pick them apart.

He had to pause in his cleaning as Skylar listed the things she loved about Roderic. Yeah, she might have said it wasn’t love but she talked about him all the ******* time. Every single conversation, somehow, she found some way to mention Ric. Elliot didn’t have to have a superpower to see it. It was pretty damned clear to him.

And it became even clearer as Skylar continued to list.

When she was done, Elliot had to arch a brow. He was silent a few seconds, before he scoffed, and even laughed. No, he wasn’t laughing at what Skylar was saying and he stopped, quick smart, in case he got fade gunk in the face.

”And you say you’re not in love?” Elliot asked. He had been all set to argue with her and tell her that her reasons weren’t good enough. But he couldn’t argue with her. Not now. He could understand, kind of. The cogs of his brain slipped against each other, smoothly looking at Skylar’s description from an outside perspective; trying to look at it from an unbiased point of view. He could see it, why an emotional vortex might be appealing to someone whose emotions can constantly get the better of them.

It wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t a criticism, thinking that Skylar let her emotions get the better of her. It was an Allurist thing. Elliot couldn’t criticise Skylar for not being able to control her emotions without being a hypocrite. He was the same. His head even canted to the side as he considered Pi, when he had first met her. Not quite as cold as Roderic seemed to be, but cold enough by Elliot’s standard. Enough of an emotional vortex that Elliot could all of a sudden put himself in Skylar’s shoes and understand. Roderic was in Tytonidae. Pi had wanted to join Tytonidae. She upheld the Masquerade and she didn’t like Elliot’s small rebellions against it.

It was a good thing that Elliot had asked the question.

By this time, Roxette was walking back toward them with the hot water; two buckets’ worth.

“Don’t even say it, Lan. I know what you’re going to ask. You’re going to tell me to get a third bucket. I looked. There isn’t one. Can I go home?” she asked. Elliot laughed and shook his head.

”Nope. You can’t get out of it that easy. Sky and I will mop. You’re going to take these remains out back. There’s a drum – toss them in and burn them,” Elliot said. The drums were used in the dead of Winter, when they set up the soup kitchen for the homeless – the drums helped to keep the tents heated.

Elliot narrowed his eyes at Skylar. At first he thought the question was tossed at Roxette; the blonde wouldn’t take well to being called an in-house cleaner. She was punk rock and rebellious. She took after her namesake. Hell, she could have stepped right out of the late 80s with the way she dressed; heavy kohl eyeliner, chains, plain tank tops and no bra. Never any bra. Some kind of feminist anarchist. Heavy army boots clomped unhappily against the flooring as she picked up the bin to do as she was told.

“She’s laughing at you, Lan. You should slap that out of her,” she said haughtily. Roxette was an ice-queen. He wondered, sometimes, how she would be if she weren’t slave to his every request. Would she have stuck around to help them if she wasn’t forced to do everything that Elliot asked her to do? What if he had turned her, instead of enthralling her? He shuddered to think what kind of force she would unleash on the world. At the moment, she was like an undeveloped storm. There was plenty that Roxette had potential for, and he regretted that she was relegated to burning fadebeast gunk in a dumpster.

Elliot removed his gloves, too, and reached for one of the mops. The water was so hot that it was steaming, the wisps billowing into the air. They were disturbed as soon as Elliot dumped the mop into it, soaking up the soaping water to slosh it all over the floor. A floor that was already stained by beer and wine and god knows whatever else. This was how they mopped up every night – sloshing the water over the wood, now well-worn and used to the treatment.

The laughter washed over Elliot like a refreshing breeze, regardless of the menial task he was now preoccupied with. The mood shifted and Elliot had to smile. He was used to being laughed at. He didn’t mind being laughed at. Normally he joined in.

”Care to share?” he asked. As much as he might want to, sometimes, he couldn’t read people’s minds.

There was one downfall to being unable to lie. Some jokes just could not be told. If he were able to lie, in any capacity, Elliot might have said something in mock horror, like: how’d you know about that?! Some untrue twist on his and Pi’s sex life. Something to embarrass the living **** out of Skylar—not that she’s not embarrassed enough as it is. Instead, he had to opt for a true story.

”You know, I’ve done that once,” he said, utterly serious. Skylar’s giggling fit meant nothing to Elliot. Some might get offended or embarrassed, but because Elliot seemed to have no shame whatsoever, and gave no shits what anyone else thought of him at the best of times, he found himself smiling along with Skylar. Smiling at the fondness of the memory that she had caused to surface.

”Well, not a French maid’s outfit. But there was a party I was invited to when I was staying in London. It was around the time of Mardi Gras and someone—I can’t remember if I actually knew the host or not?—threw a gender swap party. I went as Cherie Currie. You know…lead singer of the Runaways? I was going to go as Joan Jett but it wasn’t feminine enough…” he said. He had this faraway look in his eyes as he stared at the floor; the mop has stopped moving. He was staring at that leftover Fadebeast goop as if it were the best thing in the world.

He couldn’t remember where he had ended up at the end of that night. It was in his early twenties. Maybe it was in his late teens. One of the first big parties he went to while travelling, where he let his inhibitions fly. Dinner parties? **** that. Party parties? Hell yes. He blinked as he returned his attention to Skylar, the mop resuming its wet swishing across the floor. He’d smother the area in water first, rinse, and then mop it all up.

”Maybe we should throw one of those. Gender Swap party. It was a lot of ******* fun,” he said with a broad grin.

At first Elliot had only to narrow his eyes; Skylar saying she wouldn’t be able to get Roderic to come to a party like that almost as if she wouldn’t come, either. That assumption was rectified, however, when next Skylar spoke, and whatever tart reply had begun to form at the tip of Elliot’s tongue vanished. There she went again, mentioning Roderic when Elliot had thought that conversation was done with. Always bringing him into a discussion that has absolutely nothing to do with him? If she wasn’t in love, then she was intensely infatuated.

Elliot didn’t encourage further discussion of Roderic; he wouldn’t mention him at all. He’d been about to nod and tell Skylar that he thought he’d make a pretty ******* awesome Tinkerbelle, except it was at that moment which Roxette chose to return to the fold. Her hair was limper than before, and there was a smudge of soot over her cheek. Her boots were heavy on the wooden floor and her cackling laugh was infectiously sinister as she approached. Of course, she had caught the last part of the conversation. Although she had no idea the context of it, she still gave Elliot a once over and shook her head.

“Tinkerbelle? I don’t think so. I think he’s more of a fairy godmother, don’t you think?” she said, turning her wilting gaze to Skylar. “Make me one of those, would you?” she said, passing by Elliot in favour or alcohol. She pulled up a stool and hefted herself up onto it.

”What did you do with the bins?” Elliot asked.

“Washed out and slightly scrubbed, oh lord and master,” Roxette said, rolling her eyes at Elliot. “Or should I call you m’lady?” she continued, and then snorted.

”Yeah yeah. And you two can be the mice that I turn into peasant footsoldiers,” Elliot laughed. The floor was nearly clean. His helpers had decided to go get drunk instead, but there wasn’t much to do to finish up. Elliot rung the mop clean and as dry as he could before he re-applied it to the wooden floor, now clearing up the sodden mess he’d left behind previously.

”Oh, he’s got the legs for it,” Roxette answered. There’s a broad grin on her lips and a knowing gleam to her light eyes, made all the lighter by the bleached blonde of her hair. She was fair. If she went out in the sun for two long she’d probably start to look like a crispy vampire. Elliot rolled his eyes at the thrall; she would know, too.

For the first few weeks, see, Roxette had stayed with Elliot in that apartment thing he’d bought in the catacombs. She gave up even trying to get there after the military shut the place down, but that didn’t matter. Elliot had let her have the bed while he took the couch, but they’d had to share a bathroom. And all the living spaces. And, Roxette being completely without inhibitions had no compunctions with walking in on Elliot while he was trying to get dressed. Or undressed. Or clean. She’d come in to clean her teeth while he was showering once and only raised one eyebrow as he shouted at her. Eventually he had remembered that she was a thrall who had to do as she was told so she was ordered to very liberally get the **** out.

“He’s all leg, you know. Models would kill for legs like those,” she said, continuing to tease Elliot. She would have done so anyway. She didn’t have to follow Skylar’s lead. Elliot laughed.

“Yeah. All knobbly and awkwardly graceful. Like a giraffe’s legs,” he replied. He’d very quickly mopped up all the excess water—as much as he could—before dumping the mop into the bucket before he started wheeling it back toward the kitchen.

“Clean-up is finished, no thanks to you two,” he teased right back. “Can you get the wet floor sign out from behind the bar, Skylar? And don’t worry about the staff. Give them the rest of the night off. I’ll call Pi, and Roxette here will help until closing time,” he said. Roxette made a loud disgruntled moan, and may have muttered something along the lines of I knew I shouldn’t have ******* come here.

Elliot didn’t suspect that they would be very busy for the rest of the night. Most of those who were already here would have drifted elsewhere by now. It would be a skeleton crowd and the skeleton staff would be able to provide well enough for them.