the_cupbearer | OPEN BAR POST

This is not Ganymede. Is that weird? It might be weird.

A freckle-faced man with espresso eyes and a wild mane of dark hair that can't decide on whether or not it wants to be curly walks in, smelling like coffee and tobacco and dressed all in black with silver jewelry including a skull ring and an ankh necklace, and he's not Ganymede, but in the right light, he looks just like him.

He saunters up to the bar with the same confidence one might expect if he owned the place, too. Come say hi?

It...very definitely is weird.

Ganymede, freckled and dark-eyed and with his long hair braided back in a thick half-plait, had been coming around the corner from the back room with another bottle of syrup; he stops dead-still when he sees what could very well be his own self sauntering up and leaning on the bar. It's easy to tell when everyone else has seen him too--half the employees stop what they're doing, blinking as if they need to be sure of what they're wtinessing.

"...What can I get you?" he asks, very belatedly.

Bash glances up at Ganymede, and his eyes lock in a distinct stare, mouth hanging open in clear confusion and awe. Right, that's a thing, isn't it? I mean, really a thing.

But. But, there was a question asked, and he oughta answer it. "Cuppa coffee?"

Because he's that kind of jackass, at a bar but doesn't drink. But come the end of the night, he'll play designated driver and ferry the lost souls of the bar to their final destination--or at least, where they'll crash for the night. That's part of his job, too, almost as much as ferrying the dead lost souls to their final destination.

"Sure," he answers after a second, though he has to get the coffee packs one of his staff makes to actually do it. But he isn't moving yet, still staring at Bash, well...unabashedly.

"I'm not hallucinating, am I?" he asks eventually. "You look...almost exactly like me."

...What is this.

"Aw, naw, cuz. You look like me. Clearly." Their accents differ, though. Bash speaks like New Orleans, and not the nice parts of it. Lazy, almost, words melted by the heat of a Southern summer sun.

"Do I? I think of the two of us, you might be the younger," he managed as the coffee was brewing. Ganymede's own voice was almost unplaceable, accented from everywhere and anywhere, touches of England and the Middle East and south Asia, and everywhere else.

"I'm Ben, I own the bar. And you?"

"I'm Bash. I visit the bar. At least, if this isn't too fuckin' weird for you to accept." It might be, he knows it might be. His own measure for weird was blown way out of calibration the first time he met his father, and things haven't normalized since then.

Ganymede chuckled. "It's not the strangest thing I've seen, beieve it or not. I've never encountered someone who looks so much like I do."

And hey, as long as he pays up and isn't mean to the staff...what more could he really ask for? "Is Bash short for something?"

"Ah, yeah. Sebastian. Didn't fit me all too good. It's stuffier than I am--even my ma only uses it when I'm in trouble these days."

His smile comes warm and easy, even when his words are tinged with self-mockery.

"I can't say my mother called me Ben, either," he replied--mostly because it hadn't been his name, and the queen wouldn't have been inclined to call him any shortened form anyway. "Properly, it's Benjamin Prince, but nobody really calls me that." He poured the coffee into a mug, though printed on the side of it was the significantly illustrative phrase in my defense, I was left unsupervised.

"So what brings you to this end of New York, Bash? Work, pleasure, something in-between?"

There's a snort of amusement at the words on the mug, certainly not a complaint (though Bash is very well-supervised here, isn't he?). He pauses a second at the question, though. Oh, full answers are out of the question. But not all honest ones are.

"Ah, here for some family business, I guess. Might be a bit of a while, though."

"Then you might need to come back sooner rather than later," Ganymede answered, amused as he rolled a stainless tumbler end over end between his hands absently. "For the record, I do have stronger drinks than coffee if you end up needing them after your family business."

“I mean, it’s a bar, I figured you would. I don’t drink, though.” He’s here for the company and atmosphere more than the influence of alcohol on his person. “And I figure that’s probably the definitive proof we aren’t the same person, huh?”

"Now, I don't mind that at all. I have tea and coffee, sometimes fruity water too. Not everyone comes here just to drink," Ganymede chuckles, though he has to laugh and nod at the question.

"Better proof than almost anything else, yeah. I drink like a fish."

“I’d take coffee over most anything. I can be snobbish about it sometimes, but you got a decent bean here. Ethiopian?”

Okay, more a nerd than a snob if he’s honest, but Bash feels weird calling himself a nerd, considering he isn’t very smart in general.

"Sumatra, you were close," Ganymede chuckles. "It's got a whole spice cabinet in it, according to my staff. Everyone but Queenie says it's too fancy."

“Your staff is absolutely wrong, and I’ll pester you guys for a dirty chai latte with this shit someday.”

He laughs, and then his gaze catches on Ganymede again, his mirror image in a way he still doesn’t understand. Lost member of the family? He hopes not... “What do you prefer to drink, Ben?”

Ganymede would hope not as well, because the last thing he wants is for anyone else's family to have the same problem with gods interfering in their lives. "You'll have to ask Queenie for it, she and I are the only ones who drink enough coffee to know what that is. James drinks it a little, but not as much." He points out each of the staff members, getting a short wave or headnod.

"Me? A sazerac, personally. I like it a little rich and smooth."

Bash memorizes the names, flashing Queenie a warm, mildly flirty smile. Like, she's on the clock, he's not going to turn on his full charm while someone's working. But it's still there at a low simmer.

"Sazarac, sounds fancy."

"It's not particularly. Rye, bitters, sugar and absinthe. One day you'll see me drinking one while I'm back here, I'm sure."

Not tonight, because tonight he's sticking with the coffee, but he does like them quite a lot. More than he likes most others, anyway.

“One day. Because I’ll be back regularly, hm?” There’s some soft tease in there. “How late are you open? I do a lot of work overnight.”

"Well I hope so," he chuckles. "We're open until 4 most nights, but only 2 on Sundays. We're closed Mondays, because everyone needs a day off."

His staff included.

"Totally agree everyone needs a day off. But 'til 4, that's going to be good for me. I'm almost always out past two."

Because you can't just go picking up ghosts during the day; it's against a rule or something.

"That's a tough work schedule," Ganymede comments. "Mind if I ask what you do?"

"I drive for Uber."

Which isn't a lie, he does drive. But. That's not the Thing He's Doing Here. He looks sort of sheepish about it.

"Ahhh, the modern cab driver. I know a few of those, and it's not a job I could do."

"It's not for most people. I did drive a cab proper where I'm originally from, New Orleans." Alright, it's more like Nawlins in his accent, but close enough. "It's tricky there sometimes. There's parts of towns cabs don't pick up fares, because ghosts on the backroads have a habit of not paying, you know?"

Both eyebrows went up a little at that. "Ghosts?" he aked, leaving it open for explanation.

"That's what some people believe."

Bash meets Ganymede's eyes quietly, as if weighing his reaction, trying to see if he believes in ghosts or not. And his lips quirk into a smirk, almost a challenge.

"I wouldn't think they'd need a cab to begin with," he said with a quiet teasing smile dancing around the corners of his mouth. "Is that what you believe?"

"Not need a cab? How else is a ghost who's stuck supposed to get where they're going?"

His head tilts slightly to one side.

"I mean, I suppose some folk say Death rides a pale horse, but that shit would stand out most places, nowadays."

"Must be troubled if they're stuck, isn't the ferryman supposed to come get them?" Ganymede asks lightly, picking up a glass to rinse it out.

"I guess it depends on which Death you mean."

Ganymede mentions the ferryman, and Bash lets out a little breath that's short of being a laugh, eyes lowering to his coffee.

"I don't mean none of them, I was just talking in theory, that's all."

"Ah, just the little ghost stories, then," Ganymede chuckles, as if nothing mattered in this conversation, nd it had only been a theoretical discussion. So far, it had been.

"I like someone who can admit there's more than one Death."

"Of course there are. Whether we're talking the Ghede or the shinigami or banshees. Thanatos or a valkyrie or Santa Muerte." He lifts his gaze, with the tiniest hint of smile, and not one that lingers.

(Of course, the fact that he names Thanatos instead of Hades is a sign he has actual knowledge of this topic. Most people are more familiar with the god of the underworld, from basic mythology taught in school.)

Ganymede's mouth twists in amusement. "What, forgetting some of them?"

"If I tried to name every psychopomp figure out there, we'd be here well past closing time, and you'd probably be bored before I was half-done." Right? Right. No one wants to hear all about reapers and ferrymen and the like.

Ganymede just laughs at that, shaking his head. "Maybe if you named every one, but I hardly know them all." It's a lie, that, but Bash couldn't know that much. "It's not like I've ever met any, though. Not dead and all."

There's a pause. A loooong sip of coffee. And then a shrug.

"Would you know if you had met any?"

"It's unlikely," Ganymede chuckles, shaking his head as if thoroughly amused at the conversation. But there's something about him, some air of gentle calm at this whole line of questions, that seems to say he'd know, despite his words.

He maintains he's never met Charon--he's never been dead long enough, nor has it ever been permanent. But he does know of the man's existence, if you'd call him a man at all. Hades speaks highly of the psychopomp that brings him the dead. "But I like to err on the side of not offending anyone, anyway."

Bash purses his lips for a moment. There's a brief flicker in the lights, the shadows grow deeper and longer. Just for a moment, just to underline what he's about to say.

"Hi. My name is Bash St. Expedit, and I am of the Ghede, the lwa associated with death. When I'm not driving for Uber, I'm carrying ghosts of those who die on the road to where they're going."

And then the lights and shadows return to normal, and he sits back in his seat, watching Ganymede for his reaction.

Ganymede neither flinches nor stops his hands when the lights flicker, and he meets Bash's gaze equally, unbending and calm.

"Then your coffee is on the house," he says lightly, setting the glass he'd been wiping out aside. "All in fairness, my given name is Γανυμήδης, though it's a bit of a mouthful. I go by Ben now." And it has been a long, long time indeed since he's met a new one of the Iwa; he tries to stay under most divinities' radar given to do otherwise usually winds up in mildly unpleasant situations, but the loa have always been at the very least understanding of his taking his own damn life back. "Assuming you're not here to collect anyone in particular."

"Naw, I'm off the clock. Unless some shit goes down and I'm needed, but. Like you said, everyone needs time off." He shrugs, finishing his coffee. "So, you're on the Greek side of the extended family tree, huh?"

Ganymede chuckles a little at that, and shakes his head. "I'm actually not Greek, they were just the ones whose records survived," he says. "I was from Troy, long before the war. Third and youngest son of the king."

When the bar got busy Ashley could be found near the back, sitting on the dark blue leather couch, feet up on the coffee table. Phone in hand scrolling or his laptop resting on his knees as he played a game. He could be at home doing this but why? Ashley likes to be around people, he's a notorious social butterfly and flirt. The bar has a moody, sexy vibe that he loves and a great crowd.

Feet on the table, crossed at the ankles, he has a comfortable, lazy posture. One hand holds a rocks glass half full, smelling of a smoky, well aged bourbon that he's slowly sipping on. It's hot outside and Ash hates to wear clothes but he promised he would keep his shirt on, if you could call it that. The black tank top he wears is cut deep on the sides, nearly to the waist of his well worn, ripped up jeans. His other hand, propped up on the arm of the couch, hold his phone, scrolling TikTok, laughing to himself.

Edited 2023-07-14 13:47 (UTC)

When the bar got busy, Ganymede could look over and see Ash in the side room on the couch, and it always made him smile. His lover and friend wa happy, comfortable in his space, and Ganymede loved to see that.

"I thought you were going to wear shorts tonight," he said lightly, dropping to sit next to Ash on the couch for a minute. He himself was in his usual black, the logo of the bar embroidered on his breast pocket; he didn't mandate anyone wear a uniform to work, much less himself, but it just suited him. "Hi, Woodstock."

As Ganymede approached his phone was immediately put away. He drained the rest of his bourbon. Dropping his feet on the ground he sat forward and set the glass on the table.

"Hey, Ace." He said with a playful smile. His hand was laid on Ganymede's knee and slowly slid up to his thigh. The other hand cupped his neck to pull him closer for a kiss.

"Nice night for a bike. Can't ride in shorts." Ashley said as he pulled back from the embrace, still keeping his hand on his loves thigh. "Tell me I'm crazy...I swear I saw a guy at the bar who looked a lot like you."

That got a laugh, and Ganymede shifted over to sit in Ashley's lap, happy as a clam at high tide. "You're not crazy, but he does look a lot like me. His name is Bash, and we are not the same person. He doesn't drink."

Which is weird, in Ganymede's opinion, but what can you do. "Ace? Do I need to figure that one out myself? And on the subject...want to give me a lift home later?"

"No shit. I actually know that guy. Ran into him at a Denny's. Small fucking world." No way a guy who looks that much like Ganymede named Bash wasn't the same one he had coffee with. The city is big but not that big.

It was natural to shift and adjust to accommodate Ganymede sitting in his lap. Like two puzzle pieces who knew they were the right fit. "Snoopy. His plane was the flying ace, right?" Ashley dotted a kiss on the end of his nose. "That won't be a habit though, rather call you by your name."

There has been a noticable change in his use of Ganymede's name. In public he sticks to Ben or Benny. The rest of the time he calls him by his given name. Use to be Benny was the name he used all the time.

"Of course I want to. Can I stay?"

Edited 2023-07-17 00:29 (UTC)

The name change wasn't something that had escaped Ganymede, and he loved it; he so rarely got the chance to have people call him by his given name--even his ex hadn't, he'd made up another name entirely to avoid the crossover.

"You can always stay here, Ash. I like seeing you enjoy yourself here," he murmured against Ashley's lips. "I'll take Ace. I like it."

"I meant stay at your place for the night. I'll make us pancakes for breakfast."

He bumped his knuckles down the front of his shirt. Giving a little tug on the fabric at his chest. "I missed you today...I maybe have something for you."

"Always, you know you don't have to ask," Ganymede murmured, chuckling as Ash tugged on his shirt. "I know exactly what you have for me."

He loved it, and he felt happier than he could remember ever being, and he enjoyed the sex too--Ash was so much more inventive and thorough and just better at making love than his ex had been, and he never felt like it was forced.

"Make it waffles and you have a deal. I have rock sugar at the house."

"Yeah," He said with a laugh. "I'll give you that later. I have something else. Might make you wait now. I'll think about it."

His hand rests at his hip, thumb brushing back and forth. Ash loved having someone who let him be openly affectionate with him. Even here, at his bar, Ganymede wasn't telling him not to touch him. And he loved that. He loved being able to lean over the bar when he arrived to kiss his love hello. Or hold his hand.

"You have a deal. Waffles it is. Should I let you get back to work? I'll stay here if you can get someone to bring me another bourbon."

"Don't be mean," Ganymede teased, twining his fingers with Ash's, though it wasn't any sort of attempt to pry his hand away, rather just to touch him. "Mmmm, I've got a little bit of a break left. There are fast and slow periods every night, and...I like spending the slow times with you." He kissed the end of Ashley's nose and the patch of skin between his brows.

"What was it you were going to give me?"

"I'm not being mean!" He exclaimed with a laugh. Their hands came together and he brought them to his lips so he could kiss his knuckles.

"Okay. But first, because you have time, go get us a drink. Have a drink with me. Please."

"Another bourbon, or is it dealer's choice this time?" he asked, plucking up Ashley's glass before he got back to his feet. He fetched them both drinks, himself his favorite sazerac, and Ashley got something called a paper plane: bourbon, aperol, and amaro averna. A little bitter, a little sweet, but good.

"So here I am, drinking with you."

"Here you are drinking with me." He says softly as he takes the drink his love returns with. Ashley smells it and smiles.

He lifts his glass toward his partner. "What are we drinking to?"

"How about...us," he murmurs, touching the rim of his glass to Ashley's. "For luck."

Ganymede leans in and kisses Ashley's forehead. "Thank you for being here. I like having company."

"We don't need luck." He said softly before tapping his glass against his loves. "To us."

After taking a drink he catches Ganymede's chin when he kisses his forehead. "Stop thanking me for being in your life. You are where I want to be. Always. Get use to it."

Edited 2023-07-17 03:46 (UTC)

"I'm going to thank you for being here, when you coud be at your house, foolish man," Ganymede chuckled, smiling over the rim of his glass. "Not for being with me in my life." He'd never be sorry for that, or apologize for it, or anything else. He loved Ash and everything that had come with him.

"Now, what was it you wanted, other than a drink?"

"My house is boring without you." He smiled and shrugged. Teasing.

"You." Ashley glanced at the bar. "But I can wait." His eyes drift back to Ganymede. "We'll go for a ride when you're done okay?"

"You should go hang out at mine. The dogs like you, you have ten little furry minions. I can't see any trouble you could get into there," Ganymede chuckles, tucking a loose bit of hair back, just to play with it.

"I'd like that. Let me finish this, and go make sure everyone's alright. I should be able to skip out early, play a little hooky with you," he murmured, tracing his thumb over Ashley's bottom lip, licking off the drop of bourbon mix that clung to the skin. It took perhaps thirty minutes, not long at all, to let everyone know he'd be leaving early, and make his way back to Ash. He had to pause for a minute, just watching him scroll on his phone: Ganymede found it truly remarkable, amazing even, that he'd managed to find Ashley, and that they just...worked so well together. He loved the man, and loved being near him. Ash made him feel like his own skin fit right again, like he didn't have to shift and twist and restrain himself to fit a mold of someone else.

He looked up from his phone to see Ganymede watching him. His heart beat just a little faster when their eyes met. The way he felt was something he still struggled to explain.

"Hey." He muttered softly as he stood and pulled Ganymede closer. "You ready?"

Taking him by the hand he lead him outside to the all black Ducati. He picked up one of the helmets and carefully slipped it on Ganymede's head, then adjusted the buckle. Then he put his own helmet on a threw his leg over the seat.

"Have you been on a bike before?"

Ganymede smiled when he saw he'd been caught, taking the helmet to help slide it on, nodding. "I have, I've ridden them quite often. I like motorcycles, but I've never been on a Ducati before," he said lightly.

"You ready for me to come up?"

"Good thing I have more then one. We'll have to ride upstate in the fall when the leaves change." He shifted on the seat getting comfortable. Turning a bit he showed Ganymede where to sit, most importantly where to put his feet.

"Hop on, baby." When he felt Ganymede's weight on the back of the back he took his hands and pulled him closer, putting his lovers arms around his torso. "Stay close and keep your arms around me. Helps us move together."

Passengers have a tendency to want to correct the driver. You turn and they feel like they might fall, so they lean the wrong way. Staying connected and close like this was better for controlling that, making them move as one, and it kept his love close. Warm summer nights were made for cruising on a bike with arms wrapped around your waist. The bike was turned on and came to life. Ashley shifted to push it off the kickstand and then with both feet on the ground balance it with his body.

Before they could leave he had just one thing to do. His hand slid over one of Ganymede's and he brought it to his chest, giving a firm squeeze. In his other hand he held a ring. Ashley slipped the ring on his left hand ring finger. He held that hand to his chest, a big smile on his face that was covered by the full face mask. The helmets had blue tooth so they could still talk to each other while they drove.

"I didn't have a ring the first time. But, now that I have one maybe you can say yes again."

Edited 2023-07-17 14:02 (UTC)

Ganymede stepped up and swung his leg over, scooting up close until his thighs were all but wrapped around Ash's hips. He'd ridden pillion before on a bike, though not in quite a while, and he did his best to stay in sync with Ashley, tucked in close. The ring slid onto his finger left him a little speechless, curling that hand against Ash's chest to feel the metal band shift over his skin.

"...Yes," he breathed, laughing and punching Ashley's shoulder gently, because of course he'd do this when Ganymede can't see his face. "Yes," he repeated, laughing as he hugged Ashley tight. "You utterly romantic ass. Asking me when I can't kiss you?" he chuckled. He'd most definitely do exactly that the minute they stopped driving.

Ashley's hand stayed curled over Ganymede's on his chest. He laughed when he got a punch to the shoulder. It wasn't a big, grand gesture. There weren't flowers and he wasn't on his knee but it was genuinely Ashley.

"I was going to throw the ring box at you at the bar." He said with a laugh. Then he had asked why he wasn't wearing shorts, which reminded him he was on the bike and he changed tactics. Neither move was terribly romantic for most people. Ashley knew a lot of people would say it was too fast, he didn't give a single fuck about that. He's known this man almost a year now and just because the sex was new, doesn't mean everything is new. More then anything he just wants him to know that he's serious about what he wants. He doesn't want a boyfriend. Or a fling. Friend with benefits. Ashley wants a life to share with the person he loves most, who knows him best.

"You're my forever, Ganymede."

"You're mine," Ganymede laughed, voice thick but happy, and overwhelmed with emotion. He didn't need all the flowers, the people, the fancy clothes just to say something he and Ashley both felt: that they were right for each other. That he didn't even feel like he was falling, but like he'd known Ash for decades, and had just woken up to the realization that he loved him.

"You're my everything, Ashley. I wouldn't--" he didn't bother to finish the sentence, only squeezing his lover tight as they drove. He was going to say he wouldn't keep going if Ashley left him, he wouldn't find another person that made him feel alive and young and worthwhile like this, but he didn't want to tread into that subject so easily. "I love you, Ash. For as long as you'll let me."

"Hope you're good with forever then. Because I'm not a fucking quitter." That's what he wanted and what he would give him. Forever. He wasn't a quitter. Didn't give up when things got hard. And he knew with certainty that everything that had happened before had been just leading him here. That gave him the peace he needed to just let it go. None of it matter if this is where it lead.

Ganymede didn't need to say what he was thinking. Ashley was thinking the same. This one would break him if it ended. Rip him apart in ways that could never be fixed. Instead of that scaring him it inspired him. Do better. Be better. Try harder. Be the man who deserves the love he is being given. The safety and security of a partner who not only understood him but saw his flaws and loves those too. He knows what he has is rare, he never thought he would find it, now that he has it there is no way he'll let it go.

He pulls the bike over to park at Ganymede's place. Tugging the helmet from his head his hair is a mess but he looks incredibly happy. He let's his love get off the bike before his swings his leg over. Standing in front of him he helps fiddle with the strap of the helmet and ease it off his head. Holding his face in his hands Ashley smiles at him. "I love you, Ganymede. Even when we have shitty days. Even when we fight. I'll never give up on you. Marry me. Be mine."

Ganymede laughs, leaning back on the bike and holding Ash close by the waist, bissfully happy. "Yes, Ashley," he chuckles, pulling him in for a long, sweet kiss. "Yes, I will marry you."

He rests his forehead againsst Ashley's, giddy still and unwiling to let go. It was so much that he'd never had, never expected or thought he wanted until Ash. He wanted to stay here in this embrace forever, and know that no matter how long it took him to get his words out, his lover would stay.

"You are ridiculous, and I love you," he chuckled, looking at the ring on his finger and the stone it held. He loved the scrollwork and detail on the sides, and the color-changing stone that he recognized. "You got zultanite," he murmured, obviously touched. "From where I'm from."

Edited 2023-07-17 20:50 (UTC)

Ash never thought he would ever ask the question again. The first person he had asked was an act of desperation to try to fix something that he couldn't fix. Noah had been an alcoholic with a lifetime of trauma that needed a therapist, not a wedding ring. Ashley had done it for all of the wrong reasons. Not once had he thought I love him so much, I want to make a declaration of that love and a commitment. He had thought, maybe he'll believe I love him and stop doing these other things. When Jasper had asked Ashley said okay but as he told Oni, because it didn't matter. It was just paper. That's how it felt when applied to his last relationship. Paper that didn't matter, that would change nothing. It had felt more like being claimed as a prize, not finding where he belonged. It certainly never felt like an act of love.

With Ganymede it had hit him so unexpectedly and felt completely different. Just a rush of thought as they had been sitting in the tub. He just thought this is it, this is my person and I never want to know another day without him in it, he's mine and I'm his, this is the one. It had felt like it should feel, a gesture of love and commitment to the man he is in love with. Ashley had never felt that way before. Nothing about how he feels being with Ganymede feels like anything he has ever experienced before. It is profound. Deep. Ash took the hand with the ring on it and laced their fingers together and held them against his chest.

"It's unique and beautiful and strong. like you, and it's from where you are from." The ring didn't need to be a reflection of Ashley sitting on his lovers hand. He wanted it to be something that fit his partner and who he is, not who Ash is. It had been important to him that it was a masculine ring but not modern or flashy yet still it needed to have style. He thought it would look good with the other rings he liked to wear and the colors would look great against his skin. Ashley had actually put a lot of thought into the purchase, something he rarely did. "Something traditional just felt wrong." A plain band of gold? That didn't feel right either. "I know this is really fast. I know. I just...I don't know why people think the amount of time you have loved someone is relevant to how deeply you love them, or how committed you are to them. I know you're my person, Ganymede. I've never been so certain about anything before in my life."

Edited 2023-07-17 22:16 (UTC)

"It's not too fast, baby," Ganymede chuckled, shaking his head. "I love you, and I will love you in a year, or six more months, and it doesn't matter when this happened." He squeezed Ashley's hand over his heart, stepping forward to bring Ashley into a soft kiss. He could have tried for years to explain how Ash made him feel, and he would have fallen short of it even after a century. He just...felt everything for this man; love, lust, friendship, everything.

"You make me feel secure, and...it's not like falling," he murmured. "I feel like I've always known this, like I picked you before I knew what was happening. And when he left me, you didn't let me get lost. You stayed with me," Ganymede said softly. "And I want you to stay with me forever."

"Because you're mine. You were never his. You have always been mine. I stay and will always stay because...I'm me when I'm with you. And I know you finally get to be who you really are."

His arms went around Ganymede. "So. Does this mean were exclusive and you can delete your Grindr account? Cause I've been working over time sliding into fuckbois DMs to tell them to back off."

Ganymede nuzzled into Ashley and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle bite, licking into his lover's mouth gently, slow and sensual until they broke apart and he couldn't avoid a laugh, quick and like a punch of ausement.

"No, I cannot delete my Grindr account!" he laughed, arms still around Ash's neck. "Not unless I can send you all the pictures and messages to your cell. Have you even seen my Grindr?" he chuckled.

"Ganymede! Yeah, I've fucking seen it..." He takes both his hands and starts walking them back toward the building. "Why the hell do you think I want it deleted? I don't want any fucking douches seeing my husband like that, thinking you're available."

"Your husband," Ganymede echoes, ducking his head and smiling at the ring stil on his hand. "I think I like that. And...I think I could see my way to deleting it. Maybe. If you convince me," he chuckles.

"My. Husband." He repeated, loving the way Ganymede looks. As if something very special had just happened hearing those words. Looking at him right then with that smile on his beautiful face he knew there was nothing he wouldn't do for him.

"Convince you? Kinda though the ring on your finger would do that." Ashley scooped him up, supporting him in his arms as they bumped up against the front door of Ganymede's house. "You know I won't deny you what you need."

"I just need you," he murmurs with a little laugh as Ashley scooped him up, winding arms around his neck. "You know...I hated being picked up, for a long, long time. But with you, I don't."

He felt like he should hate it still, that he should still tense up when his feet left the ground, but Ganymede didn't. "Just talk to me, baby boy."

"I would never let you fall. More importantly, I would never let you go."

Ash pressed his lips softly against his neck. "It's okay, baby. I was just fucking around about Grindr. I trust you."

"I don't ever use it anymore," Ganymede chuckled. "I don't need it. And I don't mind getting rid of it, I just like teasing you. I like it when you laugh and tell me about the fuckboys."

"Seriously though, how many unsolicited dick pics do you get in a day? These shitbags just fling them around like they are Pokemon cards." He teased as he took them inside and pushed the door closed with his foot. Ashley let his hands go and let Ganymede put his feet back on the ground.

"It's okay though, I don't care if they look. I know you're mine." He wasn't a jealous man, he was a territorial man, there is a difference. They belonged to each other and Ashley would protect that. He knew Ganymede would do the same. His lips quirked up at the corners in a devious smile as he walked Ganymede backward, and up against a wall. Was he looking at the other man as if he might be something to eat? Absolutely. "Maybe you should just change your profile picture to one of us. Together. Can we talk about that one picture...in those fucking jeans? I've never wanted to be a pair of jeans so bad in my life."

Ganymede chuckled and shook his head. "I put up a profile of the both of us, and you'll get all the fuckboys asking one of us if we want to watch them screw the other one," he finished, and for a split second his face froze, breath halting and unsure.

"...I...I didn't mean that," he breathed.

Ashley didn't even think of that and Ganymede was probably right. He even started to laugh at what he was saying. His face fell though as he watched Ganymede's face freeze and change very suddenly.

Looking down at him Ash's brow pinched together with concern. Did something happen that he's not aware of? "Ganymede...baby, I don't care if you meant it or not, we were just fucking around, right?" He did not like the change he was seeing in the other. "Did I say something wrong? I really don't give a shit about Grindr. I swear."

He tilted Ganymede's chin up. "What's going on? Talk to me."

"Rabbits," he said softly, shoulders dropping though the rest of him was tensing up. "I didn't mean...rabbits," Ganymede managed. "It's not just fucking. I didn't mean it, I do love you. I just..."

The words had come out like nothing, and abruptly it had all come crashing back down that this was exactly what he'd said with his ex and Armarus had gotten angry at him for devaluing what they'd been doing. And he was scare that it woud go the exact same way with Ashley, and he couldn't lose that. Not again, not like this, not with Ashley.

"Hey." He said it firmly, not yelling or snapping but trying to get Ganymede's attention. "Ganymede. Stop." Ashley wasn't sure what happened or why he looked like he was going to fall apart. All he could think was that he had gone way too far with a joke and felt horrible. "What the fuck do you mean rabbits? Can...can you just like take a deep breath for me and calm down and talk to me? I don't know what is going on right now but I'm so fucking sorry I joked about Grindr."

Ashley looked as concerned as he sounded. "Baby, please, talk to me." He said softly his hands curling gently around his lovers upper arms.

He looked up at Ashley, obviously fearful as he sucked in a breath and slowly, terribly slowly, blew it out.

"I--someething I said before. With...Armarus." There was no point in calling him George now and perepetuating that level of stupidity. Ashley knew what he was, what they all were, and if he didn't he'd be finding out now. Ganymede sucked in a breath and burted it out, without stopping or pausing.

"We ordered pizza and we'd been having sex and I said I wanted him to stay, I said we were screwing like--like rabbits. He was mad, he said if he'd wanted me to be a fucking rabbit he'd have just paid like a hooker when we first met," he finished, all in one breath and letting his head fall back against the door. "I'm sorry, baby, I don't mean we're rabbits, I don't."

"You do not owe me an apology." The only thing about what he just heard that really bothered him was knowing anyone who said they loved this man had talked to him like that. That would twist something about his past to get a jab in. It was childish and cruel in his opinion. Not something you do to a person you care about, even if they were just a friend. He's not all that surprised by it though, based on his own experiences with all of them, birds of a feather they say.

Ashley gave a light shrug of his shoulders. "We kind of are rabbits. Fuck frequently. See each other and want to go at it. Pretty accurate description if you ask me." He wasn't bothered by it at all. Kind of thought it was funny and he would have laughed if it weren't for the obvious distress Ganymede was in.

"You thought I was going to get mad at you." He sighed and rubbed his fingers against the rough hair along his jaw. "You were right. A picture of the two of us? Of course it would have looked like an invitation for a threesome. That's not what is going on here though, right? It's not about me. This is about you and whatever bullshit he got stuck in your head. Some shitty notion that joking about your sex life was disrespectful? That had to be it for the prick to talk to you like that." When he said that last bit, his voice sounded hard and agitated. "I'm not him, Ganymede. Look, I know you think he loved you...but that's not love, treating someone like that over a fucking joke. You know that. I know you know that."

Ganymede had been pressed against the wall, and as he listened and tried to process the words, he wanted to slide down the wall or shove away from Ash, but when he picked his head up and saw the look on Ashley's face he couldn't. He wanted this man too badly to leave, too badly to be anything but grasping for him for some little bit of stability.

"Ash, please," he murmured, "Please tell me you're not leaving. That you're not mad."

"I am not leaving. I am not mad." He met Ganymede's eyes and his face softened. "Baby, I just asked you to marry me. I need you to trust that I believe in what that means. Hey," Ashley let out a huff of air feeling a little lost on what to do right now and his need to punch something in the face was growing. "Come here."

Instead of letting himself get lost in the anger this made him feel for a man he couldn't take it out on because he had run to Vegas like a bitch, he picked Ganymede back up. Just as he had when they came into the house. He curled a hand around the back of his neck and an arm was under his ass to hold him up. Ashley just wrapped himself around him and buried his face into his neck. "Even if I were pissed off, I wouldn't leave. We would talk and figure it out. I know it's going to take time for you to believe that. I'm not going to give up while you're getting through this. But, I need just a little trust, that's all. You know me. I would never talk to you like that."

"I know, I know," Ganymede whispered, wanting nothing more than to be comforted for a second, though his emotions were tengled and rapidly bubbling over as he gripped Ashley's shoulders tightly. "I just...it was so stupid, it has only been a joke and he called me a whore," he breathed.

"Like that's all it was, that....he was just entertaining me. He was such a bastard," he sighed, trying to relax but not having much luck in unfurling the tight black bloom of anger. "He thought I was a prostitute when we first met. I wasn't, but I know that's what he assumed. I guess he thought the bar was just to cover it."

Well that was information that could send him right over the edge into rage. A whore. A prostitute. As if that would make him any less of a person. This wasn't about his own anger though and that wasn't fair to the man he loves. He's going through something and all Ashley can do is try to get through it with him and not make it about himself.

"First, there isn't any shame in sex work." Ashley had slept with plenty of strippers, even paid a couple to take care of him in the back room during a dry spell. They had been good, sweet girls just trying to make money like everyone else. Even dated a porn model and learned that when it came to women, he was an ass man and did not love the fake boob look. Still, just a job. Not a stain on a persons character. In general he didn't care for people who treated others like shit for how they made money. If you aren't hurting anyone and it's consensual? More power to you. "Second, coming from an asshole who has to have people paid to keep his bed warm, like they all did, his opinion of you shouldn't carry so much weight. They use people. I am so fucking sorry he used you. That he treated you like you weren't good enough for him. He knows your insecurities and he used that to control you and get what he wanted. That's all."

The last time he had talked to Jasper, to try to be a decent person and keep him from being punished for talking to Ashley about his world, he learned exactly what he had meant to him all along. Jasper had needed a warm body to make him feel again, that's all Ashley had been to him. Must run in the 'family', treating people like whores and disposing of them once they asked for what they were owed. Like respect or love. If he ever saw any of them again it would be impossible to stop him from ripping them apart. Just to stop them from doing this to anyone else.

"I don't know what to do to help you through this. But, I'm not going anywhere."

Ganymede just shook his head, shifting in Ashley's hold and wanting to get down. "I'm just... I'm fucking angry that I let him do it," he managed, wanting to take a swing at something, anything. He was just angry that he'd let himself not see it, and had tried to defend Armarus to the man holding him now. He fisted his hands, squeezing tight and picking up a decorative glass candle dish, something moderately heavy, and handy, that he could throw. That it was shaped like a sunflower, his ex's favorite flower to give him, just helped him not care about it shattering.

"I've done pornography before. And hell I've been a prostitute before. But nobody's ever called me that and wanted to make it as dirty as he did. And...I believed him. I'm such an idiot."

As soon as he felt him shift in his arms Ashley let his grip go and let Ganymede stand back up. He wouldn't try to contain him. When he grabbed the dish to throw Ashley took hold of his wrist to stop him. It wasn't a tight grip, the intent was not to hurt him just get his attention.

"Ganymede." He said his name to get his attention. "Stop. Please. We were just fucking happy. I just asked you to marry me. You're letting him win. Letting him diminish you even though he is gone!"

Ashley swore right then he would find a way to ruin him. He could do it from a distance. Has the connections, the money and the power to make it happen.

"You aren't an idiot. You're fucking brilliant. You just fell for the wrong asshole and wanted it to be real. I did it to! But you're going to look back on tonight and beat yourself up for this. You're letting him win and he doesn't matter."

When Ganymede calms down or in a week or a month thinks back on this night Ash knows he'll be so upset with himself that this happened. It breaks his heart to not know how to help him through this. It also hurts to have a night that felt so wonderful and full of hope turn into this.

"I never wanted to be this guy. Never...but you have got to make a choice. Right fucking now. It's me or him. You choose us and let this shit go. Because. He. Doesn't. Matter. I'm here and I love you so much...but right now? You're letting him control you and ruining something really special."

At the hand on his wrist, and the soft sound of his given name, the reminder that there was a choice in this, and it was only his...all the fight, the anger, the energy went out of him ike a popped balloon. Ganymede dropped the glass dish to the floor, sucking in a halting breath.

"...It's you, baby," he whispered, shaking his head and biting down hard on his lip though he didn't look away, willing the man standing in front of him to believe him. "It's always going to be you, Ashley." He wasn't the person to walk away from something unless he had no other choice, and this was nothing more than proof of that: but it was time to admit to himself it was over, well and truly, and there was nothing to be done to get what he'd had back. It hurt in a way he couldn't describe, and he hated it, he wanted to be angry, but he couldn't be right now. Not with the look on his lover's face.

He knew Ashley had been hurt, unbelievably so, by the people who had left him before, had turned away from him for nothing more than selfish reasons, and Ganymede never wanted to be one of them. "You're mine. And I'm yours."

Right now in this moment he felt more pain then Jasper had ever made him feel. He had been so certain. So confident. He was the one. Ashley was ready to do something he never thought he would do again. And then Armarus found way to ruin it, to take it from them both. He hurt because he thought Ganymede was in the same place he was, which was his own fault for making assumptions. Ashley had let Jasper go. There were things that hurt, sure. But not to this degree. He knew they would get there but Ganymede needed more time.

"I love you." He said softly. "You're mine. I'm yours. But you're not ready."

Fucking hell, he could just throw himself off a bridge right now.

"I'm going to go," He took a deep breath. "Up to my room, okay? And lay down. I want to lay under my stars and just chill for a minute." Another breath and he looked at Ganymede. "I'm not leaving. I love you."

But he needed a minute to clear his head. And fuck, he needed a puppy to cuddle. Ash paused and kissed his love deeply. "I love you." He says again.

Then he kicks off his shoes and wanders off to find Felix and go cuddle him under the twinkling lights in his room.

Edited 2023-07-19 03:40 (UTC)

Ganymede stayed standing exactly where he was, unmoving and still as stone while he watched Ashley turn and walk away, barely breathing. There were so many thoughts in his head, all clamoring to get out that it was little more than a full roaring sound between his ears. He lost all track of time, rooted to that spot until he could barely feel his legs, concentrating so much on the feel that had been Ashley's lips on his.

Walking up to the halway where he'd put Ashley's room, sinking down beside the door with Ameera and Maelie in his lap, a heavy if comforting weight.

With his sense of hearing he picked up every sound. Every heavy foot step from the man he loved. Ashley laid there on the bed, petting Felix's head, staring at his starry sky. He didn't know what to say. What he knew was that a mere matter of minutes between them made him ache.

"Fe," He said to the puppy on his chest. "I gotta go get Daddy."

He knew Ganymede wouldn't open the door. Wouldn't beg. And Ashley didn't want him to. It wasn't about submitting to what Ash wants. The tiny pup was gently set on his pillow. Ashley opened the door. He reached down and pet both of the dogs before shooing them away from their owners lap.

Ashley didn't say a damn word and accepted if his actions caused Ganymede to freak out. He bent down and scooped the other man into his arms. "Please don't fight me." Was the whispered plea against his loves cheek. "I'm sorry."

Edited 2023-07-19 04:48 (UTC)

"Don't be sorry," he said softly, merely tucking himself in against Ash when he got scooped up like he didn't weigh anything. He only wrapped his arms around his love's shoulders, fingers fisting tight in his shirt. Ganymede had hated being picked up with Armarus, even if logically he'd known the man wouldn't drop him. But he hadn't trusted it innately, not in the very core of his being like he did when Ashley touched him. He was solid, warm, so easy to love it felt effortless.

"I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry it's you, and it's been you since we stayed up all night and watched the stars." He took a deep breath, tightening his hold on Ashley and squeezing with his whole body. He lifted his head not caring about the half-dry tear tracks down his face, resting against Ash. His love, his lover, his anchor in a rough sea. "I'm not ready yet. But my choice is you, Ashley Ira Cromwell Savery."

What Ganymede says, Ashley knows. He knows they are right. That this has been happening for longer then they both wanted to admit. That Ganymede wasn't ready for it. He's not sure what to do about that last part.

"I love you. It's as simple and as complicated as that." As strong and as gifted as he is, there is no fix for what is going on with the man in his arms. Ashley hates that he can't change anything, just wait. He kissed the end of his nose. "I'm not sorry it's me and I know it is. I know that I belong to you. I just needed to know you believed it to."

He set Ganymede down on the bed and kissed the top of his head. Ashley scooped the puppy up and glanced at the door to see the other dogs waiting. "Wait here. I'm going to take the babies to bed."

Ashley was quick about taking the dogs down to their room and tucking them back in.

He stood in the door of the room where he had left Ganymede. Just watching the man he loved so much. "I shouldn't have pushed you to say something I already know."

It was a relief to no longer be on babysitting duty. Much of her time had been wasted keeping other people alive. Soothing wounded egos and tending to the emotions of tender hearted monsters who wanted to wallow in pity. The stress of it weighing on her heavily. She wasn't the maternal type, had accepted who and what she is a long time ago, and no longer let the guilt of her life tear her apart. Being with someone for so long who lived for the self loathing had taken a toll.

When was the last time she went out to have fun and wasn't ambushed by hunters? Thinking about that she realized it had happened every single time they left the security of her home. Too much, even for a woman like her. No one did anything to control it, to stop the bleeding so to speak and she had grown wary of the inaction.

She thought this would hurt. That the pain would be crushing. What she had not expected was to feel lighter, like she could breathe again. The life she had fought, bled and died for, was hers again. At some point she had let herself get absorbed by a world that was not hers until she had started to disappear.

Selene was never one to party or mingle in the crowds but she did enjoy being out. She stayed on the fringes and watched. In a city such as this the people watching was quite entertaining. Insightful even. Her fingers lightly rake over the plush, blue velvet, leaving trails on the fabric that she wipes away with her palm. Eyes wander the crowd, calm but alert. She had decided to try to the Black Velvet, drinking from her glass leisurely as she relaxed.

Case over, Malcolm is waiting for the car to come and pick him up. Might as well go inside the bar and have a drink.

He walks up to the bar and slides onto a stool, waiting to catch the bartender's attention.

The bartenders here are many and varied, all shades, shapes, colors and the like. One of them--the one coming down to where Malcolm is sitting--greets him with a gentle smile as he leans into the bar, sleeves rolled up and hair in a long plait down his back.

"Hello there. Welcome to 4713, I'm Ben." Ganymede looks and sounds like he could be anyone, accent unplaceable though there are hints of everywhere in it, maybe twenty-five at the very top end of the guessable age range. "What can I get for you?"

“Uh… scotch on the rocks?” Malcolm requests. “Unless there’s something you’re known for that I just can’t miss. I’ve never been here before,” he adds.

"Scotch on the rocks I can do pretty easy, sure," he chuckles, reaching for a rocks glass and tipping his head towards another bartener down the way. "My friend down there is working on this drink, blackberry imperial tout and champagne. Called a Black Velvet...but you don't look much like a beer guy to me," Ganymede says.

"Our well is Chivas Regal 12, but I've also got Hakushu 12 year, and Macallan 18 Sherry if you feel like going up from there," he offers. "

"I'll try the Macallan," Malcolm tells him. "Thanks."

"Coming up," he answers, turning away to grab the bottle, twirling it around his thumb to pour a couple of fingers' worth over the single huge ice cube he'd already put in the glass.

"Do you want to start a tab, mister...?"

"Bright. Malcolm Bright. And sure; I might be here for a few hours," Malcolm tells him.

"Bright," Ganymede repeats with the smallest of chuckles. "I like that name. Sounds good," he says, taking the necessary things like his ID and card to start a tab.

"You visiting the city, or just never been this far down the road before? You said you'd never been here before."

"I've been by this way for work, but never this neighbourhood. I'm from New York," Malcolm tells him.

"Ahh, Chelsea gets a bad rap sometimes, but it's nice out here. Pretty quiet," Ganymede says, leaning on the bar to talk for a moment. "I'm not a native New Yorker myself, I came to the states several years back. But I like it, you know. It's different here."

He had been around the coutry since its inception, really, in various places and times, but he couldn't let that on so much. "What do you do for work, if you don't mind me asking?"

Malcolm takes a small sip of his drink.

"I consult on homicide investigations for the police," he says. "I was out here following up on some evidence, actually."

Both brows go up at that, and while Ganymede makes an incredibly good facsimile of surprise, there's something underneath that's not even close.

"Oh, wow. What sort of homicide investigation would bring you out here?"

"Serial murder," Malcolm tells him. "It's sort of my specialty," he adds with little humility because, honestly, he's earned the lack of it. It's the one thing he knows he's good at.

"...Serial murder. Is your...specialty," Ganymede repeats slowly, to make sure he heard that correctly, because if he did then clearly this man has both a fair bit of explaining to do, and a much better disguise than the average man hiding something.

"And here mine's just a drink. Goodness," he murmurs, spinning a little metal pony glass around his thumb. It's a faint lie, because his real specialty is being unable to die--or more adequately, stay dead--but that's slightly harder to work into conversation.

"Um..." He leans forward slightly. "Solving serial murders. Just to be completely clear," Malcolm tells him. He's seen that look on faces before. Murder is the only thing keeping me sane! ....Solving, not doing. "I hunt down murderers and bring them to justice."

"Might have wanted to add that word in there," Ganymede chuckles. "Though honestly...not the strangest thing I've heard lately."

He takes all sorts, really, and not just because he's a bartender. "Are there that many in the city, do you think? Surely they'd make the news now and then."

Malcolm laughs. "I said I was on a homicide investigation!" he points out good-naturedly. He takes another sip of his drink. "And some of them do make the news. They love it, by the way. The attention. This one isn't that kind, though. His work is satisfying a... a need inside himself. It's private and precious to him."

"You didn't say which end!" Ganymede laughs back, glad to have at least been amusing in the conversation. "I'd think all of them are satisfying some kind of need. Even if it's just revenge."

He wouldn't know anything about that. Ganymede's never killed anyone before. Honest.

"So what makes you think it's precious to this one?"

"There is always a need, yes. But this one is strictly internal. Private. His own. It's precious because he doesn't want to share it with anyone. He doesn't want to explain it. He doesn't want to be understood. He just wants... whatever gratification it is that the act itself gives him," Malcolm explains.

"Huh," Ganymede says. "But...clearly you understand him. Well enough, anyway. You know the guy?" he asks, picking up a glass and pouring himself some of the same whiskey Malcolm has.

"I don't know him, but I hope to meet him soon," Malcolm says archly. "Understanding them is what I do."

"Sounds like the worst form of dating. Finding out the worst of someone before you ever meet them," Ganymede chuckles, drinking his whiskey and leaning against the bar. "So you're a profiler, then?" he asks, at least passing familiar with the term, if not the finer points of the occupation.

Reading people is what he does as well, after all. Though he's not quite as specialized at it as Malcolm, he imagines. Still, his long life has given him enough practice that he's better than average.

"Yeah. I used to work for the FBI, but that didn't really... work out so much. So now I work for the NYPD," Malcolm tells him.

"Too much bureau, not enough investigation?" Ganymede guesses with a hint of a smile. He might understand more than he lets on easily.

"Well, I'm honored to have one of New York's finest in the bar. I don't often get cops here, honestly--much less profilers. It sounds like an interesting job."

"More like... creative differences," Malcolm tells him. "I wanted to put serial killers in prison and they wanted to give a free pass to scumbag sheriffs that shot suspects in the back when they were laying down their weapons," he says with a shrug, taking a sip of his drink.

"...No, that didn't sound pointed at all," Ganymede says lightly, looking askance at his conversation partner from across the bar. "Nothing specific in the creative differences, hm?"

"Unless taking exception to cops murdering suspects is a sign of latent psychopathy and potential narcissism," Malcolm says with a shrug.

"Was it the shooting in the back that makes you call it murder, or the laying a handy weapon down?" Ganymede asks, head tilted at Malcolm. He rather thinks it might be less cruel to have died than been in a mental hospital or prison...but he neglects to voice that. People learning he's been in both without the benefit of knowing the rest of the story tends to go poorly.

"How was it you took exception? Something tells me it wasn't just in writing."

Edited 2024-04-19 18:10 (UTC)

"I might have punched him in his smug, cold-blooded face," Malcolm says, taking a sip of his drink.

At that he laughs, bright and amused and not at all judgemental. Ganymede approves of not mincing words--or actions. He might have punched a few people of his own, though not specifically for shooting anyone in the back.

Then again, he's also done far, far worse. "Good on you," Ganymede chuckles. "I have to assume that's when the FBI relationship ended. But then, that brought you here, so I can't be entirely negative."

Malcolm blinks for a moment. Was that… flirting? Couldn’t have been; not with him. He recovers himself and half laughs. “Apparently there’s an unwritten rule about not punching sheriffs. Who knew?”

Oh, it was flirting. Not exceedingly subtle flirting, either.

"I'd be willing to bet it's written down somewhere, but it might not be very well advertised," Ganymede chuckles. "Still, it must have been solid if he was willing to complain over it. You'd think that would fall under the purview of playing stupid games, winning stupid prizes." But, evidently not.

"They did say it's actually also a written rule," Malcolm concedes. "He wanted people to think he was a hero for what he did and he can't be a hero if he gets charged for shooting an unarmed prisoner."

"Not a fan of hero-worship, that's always a good sign," Ganymede chuckles. "So what do you like about your job? You know, what keeps you doing it?"

He likes talking to people, and he knows his alcohol. It seemed like a good mix.

"I like keeping people safe," Malcolm tells him. "Arresting killers - especially the ones that crave it, that need it - makes everyone safer."

"Keeping people safe--especially vulnerable people--is one of the highest aims there is in morality. It looks good in a man," he says, though to be fair this time it has less of an edge of flirtation, and more unfettered truth.

Which sounds slightly out of place from someone who might be twenty-five, tops.

"So...how do you profile a person? I might be curious."

"It's sort of a... Well, in person, like interrogating a suspect, I make observations about them. The way they speak, their choice of words... physical attributes, sometimes. Like their haircut or a tattoo. Their bearing. Um, and then I ask them questions or make provocative statements or guesses about their mindset or things they've done and watch how they respond. Not just what they say, but how they say it, their facial expression, the way their body language changes... and then narrow in on the truth. But when we're looking for a suspect, then I examine the crime scene, the way they committed the murder, the state of the location where they committed it - like, is the room trashed or is everything neatly arranged? - and deduce things about their state of mind and their experiences that give us clues where to look," Malcolm explains.

Ganymede lifts a brow at that and smiles, amused.

"Could you profile me like that?" he asks, shifting his weight to lean against the bar as he watches Malcolm. He's the very picture of at-ease-at-work like this, sleeves rolled up though it does expose the odd scars slanting up one forearm, plainly both very old and very deep from their appearance. "But you probably have people asking you that all the time."

OPEN BAR POST

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ahahaha this is gonna be GLORIOUS

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Of course he hangs out here A LOT, feel free to come chat.

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