Page 118 of Reactant

“Randomly?” Jericho asked, pausing with a fork halfway to his lips. “I… don’t think that’s how it works?”

Peyton snorted. “At Aubrey’s, it does.”

“He’s a free spirit,” Will said with a shrug. He ate another mouthful and gave Persephone her second treat. “He has all the licenses and stuff he needs, and if he can be bothered to make something, or if any of the qualified staff feel like it, they’ll make something and put up a board for people to buy it.”

“And that’s where you work?” Sebastian asked, looking at Peyton.

“Bartending, yeah. I don’t go in the kitchen.”

Sebastian let out a huff of laughter. “Should have asked you about the wine.”

“I’ve worked there too!” Will said, affronted. Sort of. Peyton had always been better and more intuitive with it than him. But Sebastian didn’tknowthat. Besides that— “He doesn’t know either.” Aubrey’s bar was primarily a cop bar, and they didn’t serve full meals. Unless someone had prior knowledge of it, knowing what wine paired with what food wasn’t a requirement of the job. And was rarely a skill needed. Their patrons were less discerning than that.

Peyton cautiously swirled his glass. He’d already taken a sip, and now he looked like he was worried it might be poisoned.

“Know what?” Quinn asked.

“Whether red or white would go better with the satay,” Will explained.

Quinn shook his head, taking another bite. Clearly, he didn’t know either. Good thing none of them were being invited to fancy parties. Though Will figured they’d be automatically served the right pairing, so why did they even need to know? That’s how it worked, wasn’t it? It did mean they would all have to get dressed up. Will liked that idea. He wondered if he knew anyone who had lots of fancy parties. Maybe he would need to organise one himself. He knew enough people and could convince them to dress up.

“A white,” Jericho said.

They all looked at him in surprise, an awkward beat of silence passing.

“A dry white, to be specific,” he continued. “A Pinot Grigio, or a Riesling, would be my preference.”

“A who with what?” Quinn asked.

“They’re types of white wine,” Jericho said. “It helps counteract the sweetness of the sauce. And this one is very sweet. You don’t know your wines, Quinn? How uncultured.”

“I grew up eating sausages straight from the barbecue. Slap it in a piece of bread, with some onion, cheese, and sauce, and then do the old-time ‘fuck this is hot, why did I bite into this before waiting for it to cool down’ dance.”

Will choked on the wine he’d just sipped, his throat burning. Peyton patted his back while he coughed and tried to suck air into his lungs. “I know that dance,” he said hoarsely.

“You okay?” Quinn asked, his brows turned down in concern.

Will gestured “OK” with his hand. He was fine. A little embarrassed, maybe. Knowing how to drink properly seemed like it should be a basic skill.

“How do you know your wines?” Sebastian asked curiously.

“I don’t always masquerade as a drug dealer,” Jericho replied. He twirled some pasta around his fork. “I wear many faces.”

“And which face do we see?” Peyton asked, a hint of steel in his tone. He was looking right at Jericho, food forgotten. Will wondered if he was going to finish it.

“Mine, of course. I’ve never been anything but myself while I’ve been with you. Arrest and jail time notwithstanding.”

Nothing about the man that Will had arrested was sitting in front of him. It was like they were two different people entirely. Will hadn’t felt a pang of anything when he’d arrested him. He felt something now.

“You certainly know how to play the part,” Sebastian said dryly.

“I’m not playing a part. I don’t sleep with just anyone and certainly not while on a job.”

“Are we supposed to count ourselves lucky?” Peyton asked sarcastically. He frowned at his bowl and then pushed it across to Will. “Why are you still wearing contacts?” The challenge in his eyes was burning, daring Jericho.

Jericho chewed thoughtfully on a piece of chicken, contemplation in his gaze. “Habit,” he said shortly. “I have different-coloured contacts, and I change them every day if I’m not on a job. I keep to the one colour during, of course. I use bright, vibrant colours that are easily remembered. So that when I take them out, I look nothing like what they’ll describe if questioned. All they’ll remember is the blue, or the green, or the gold. If they were asked to describe all of you? Your beautiful eyes would be one of the first things they’d remember.”

Will wasn’t sure why he was included in that since he just had brown eyes, and they all had gorgeous colours, but he took the compliment because it made him happy. “Do you need them to see?” he asked.

---