Page 25 of A Subtle Scar
“Just like the humans always do in the pictures, but very well, go ahead and show your skill at arithmetic.”
“Fuck you once, fuck you twice, fuck you thrice,” he said, and we moved, walking to the elevator shoulder to shoulder.
Inside the elevator, we went to opposite corners.
“You ruined this,” Hermes said.
I snorted. “I did not offer to take my dick out at the door, Hermes. Who does that?”
Hermes at least had the decency to flush. “You can see how I thought he would ask that.”
“No? Hermes, who has ever asked you to take your dick out right outside their door? I don’t spend a lot of time here on Earth, that much is true, but even I know that isn’t a thing customarily doneoutside someone’s door.”
He looked away. “Humans have blown me in alleys. And elevators, for your information.”
“I’m not going to do that, and I don’t think Chandler would either.” I tapped my foot. “Say, is it just me, or did he look good in that apron?”
“Hmm. Kind of cute. I never fucked a human who was wearing an apron.”
I hissed. “Can you get your mind out of the gutter for the length of an elevator ride?”
Just then, the elevator reached the first floor, and we stepped out, quietly walking to the door.
We stopped right outside Chandler’s building and turned to face one another. There was some foot traffic, but people gave us a wide berth.
“This won’t do,” Hermes said. “You have to stop this. Tell you what, next time we do the thing we don’t talk about, you can go last.”
I ground my teeth. “Well, I did go last on account of the fact that you, selfish as always, were only focused on yourself, and then, after all of it, you stole my fucking comforter, fell asleep, rolled yourself up in it, and thereby pulled it away from me twice more!”
Hermes glowered. I glowered right back. If he was thinking I’d just let him have the human I had seen first, he was so very wrong about that. I had taken back my comforter too, after all.
“What will it take?” he asked.
“It isn’t going to happen,” I said. “I want to see him in nothing but an apron, and I want him to talk to me. About what he does, about what makes him sad.”
Hermes snorted. “Long black hairs in his sink would make him sad. That’s what humans have told me because I talk to humans.”
“About taking your cock out while making them French toast.” I wasn’t entirely certain what French toast was, if I was being honest, and I was getting curious about that. There was a small urge to ask Hermes to make French toast for me, but I had a spine. And of course, there were restaurants.
“That was—clearly I might have misunderstood, but can you blame me? You’ve seen the human’s—”
“Chandler’s.”
“Yes. You’ve seen Chandler’s eyes, right? He looks at me, and all I can think about is how I want to take him against a wall or on a table.”
“Hah!” I pointed at him again. “You are admitting you only think with your dick. Let me have Chandler. Obviously, it’s not just dicks that do it for him, but also the melding of minds.”
“What in the fuck is the melding of minds, and how would you even do that?”
I tossed my hair back. “By talking to him. By listening. By allowing empathy to flourish.”
“You missed the hippies by a few decades. No one is as sappy as that.”
I crossed my arms. “Chandler might be, but you’re not going to find out. Because you are stuck in a mindset where you think offering people your dick at their door is okay.”
Hermes narrowed his eyes. “Listen. While we are fighting about this, there might be another problem.” He looked around. “You can buy me a bubble tea. Over there.”
“What in all the otherrealms is a bubble tea?” I asked. “And why would I be buying it? You buy me one. For interrupting me talking to Chandler.”
