I feel tiredness sweep over me. I was hoping for a peaceful night, a chance to listen to my records, enjoy a drink, and sleep. That’s all gone, replaced by uncertainty. I have so much more to think about now, but I can’t help but yawn.
She hadn’t thought of it that way. I represent redemption. If she could take an independent from unknown to a winner in less than four months, imagine what she might do with another crack at her own career.
We’ll snuggle back up in bed. I’ll read the paper, and she’ll have her nose in one of her fantasy novels. She was always rereading them, the pages so dogeared and tatty. Maybe I’ll treat her to some new ones.
I take a tiny sip of my drink, maintaining my indifference. I do so love watching the mortals attempt their own tricky schemes. They are all such amateurs. But then no one can match me. “Are you sure?” I rest the glass on the arm of the chair. That will be quite enough of that for the time being.
Yes, I may be on the hunt for Titans older than literal time, but I also need help. Someone I can trust, but also not tell me how terrible my idea is. Besides, I don’t trust Erebus, especially after how weird he has been recently. Secret phone calls and suddenly having to leave? Nope. I need an assistant of my own, and who better than Chuck?
I may have been attracted to him under other circumstances. He held an unwashed allure, disheveled sense of fashion, and a casual attitude, perhaps even fondness, for the massacre surrounding us.
