Pass the Mic

[Nox]

Nox was disappointed in no more dancing. He'd be happy with that second beer, but dancing was more fun. More a thing he was proud of and happy to do. Drinking dulled the wits, made you feel less. Or more in his case since the last time he drank to excess he fucked a guy. He was sitting back at their table and Sara took a drag from the vodka bottle and offered him one. That was a hard no. He wasn't his father. And Jay was still very much on his mind. That entire thing was part of the reason he needed a second beer.

Sara asked about the Atharim - tho his referencing as a cult made him snigger. How they would hate him for that. It wasn't a cult - cults implied worship of some sort and the Atharim didn't worship anything. Nox shrugged. "I was just a grunt, did what I was told. Actually I did what my father told me to up until his death. Me and my sister had to figure it out all on our own after that - landed us in Moscow." Without memories of who the fuck we were, or why we came. And no one had cared one damned fucking bit then, why the fuck should they care now.

But then she said the most incredulous thing ever. The Atharim were on his side. "Duckling, I don't think trying to boil me alive in my own skin constitutes being on my side. If it hadn't been for happenstance I'd be dead." And if he hadn't met Jay, how would things have played out differently? He'd still be dead most likely at the very least he'd be in jail rotting somewhere with some dumbass drug coursing through his brain so he couldn't wield the power of the gods.

Nox realized he was poor company. The voice of his sister in his head was snickering at his thought. "I'd rather not talk about me. My life is shit storm after shit storm. And all I'm going to do Duckling is depressed you or piss you off. And I'd rather not do either." Nox put on his perfect smile and hide all the emotions behind it, fake it till you make it. He'd mastered it - and now he knew why. "Tell me what you like most about this place." He reached across and ran his finger down the side of her face brushing a stray hair away before letting it fall back to his side. Or at least that's what he'd say if she got uppity about the touching. Some places were like that. They can touch you, but you can't touch them. It's not like he had plans to even try to get laid - though that might take some of the tension off what was going on in the room across from his back home.