Chapter Text
Late as it was, they met no one on the street as Costis led the way to his apartment. Kamet was still reeling from the events of the evening—the fight, Nahuseresh’s cruel words—and didn’t pay close attention to where they were going at first. So when Costis stopped walking and pulled out a ring of keys, Kamet nearly ran into him and looked around in confusion. They’d reached the end of a block, but there was no sign of the apartment building Kamet had expected.
“This is the place,” Costis said, thumbing through the keys until he found the one he wanted. “Like I said, it’s not much, but it’s better than camping outside the police station.” He fitted a key into the lock, opened the door, and gestured for Kamet to precede him up the stairs.
Kamet hesitated. “But...this is...a bakery?” Even this late, the smell of bread infused the air.
“Oh! Yeah.” Costis smiled. “I live upstairs. It’s a nice arrangement, the landlord gave me a pretty good deal.” He waved his hand again. “Go on, it’s just at the top.”
Lacking anything to say in response, Kamet climbed. The door at the top opened into a room that more or less matched the stairs: wood floors, scuffed but clean, and plain walls behind mismatched furniture. The couch looked comfortable, and the blankets piled on the back added a hint of color, but the overall effect was one of simple function. Shoes lined up neatly on a mat by the door; keys hung on a hook beside it. Kamet couldn’t help thinking of his own possessions, carefully fit into the gaps allowed him by Nahuseresh. For all that it lacked his own apartment’s opulence, this place felt far more like a home.
“Can I get you anything?” Costis asked, passing Kamet and leaning down to rummage in the fridge. It provided a clear view of how well his jeans fit—Kamet caught himself staring, and had to look away. “Water? Beer? I’m afraid there’s not much in here.”
“It’s fine.” Now that the shock had worn off, Kamet found he was exhausted. All he wanted was to hide in his room with his books until the world made sense again. But his room was all the way across town, and the keys were with Nahuseresh, so he’d have to make do with whatever Costis had to offer. “I’d rather just sleep. You said there was a bed?” He was tired enough to sleep on the couch if he had to, but a bed would be better.
Costis looked at the clock and cursed. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” He opened a door to reveal a room just big enough for two beds with a path in between them. “Aris left a set of sheets for it, and I think there’s a pillow in the closet...” He turned back to look at Kamet, worry knitting his brows. “Is this okay? I can take the couch if it makes you more comfortable. I have to get up early anyway.”
Kamet hovered in the doorway, torn. On the one hand, Costis was right—they were strangers, and it would be a relief to be alone and shut out the chaos of the past few hours. But on the other hand...Costis had been nothing but kind to him so far, even though their loyalties should have made them enemies. And it wouldn’t be fair for Kamet, who was already imposing on Costis’s hospitality, to inconvenience his host by making him sleep on the couch.
So he shook his head. “It’s fine.”
Costis nodded and they set about preparing for bed. There was an awkward moment as Costis found the sheets—Kamet tried to take them to make up the bed himself, and Costis looked confused. He seemed to have no idea that Kamet, as the unwanted burden in this situation, should be doing everything in his power to be less of one. In the end, Costis threw up his hands and went to brush his teeth, leaving the sheets with Kamet.
It was easy enough to make the bed, smoothing the creased fabric and lining up the edges. The act was surprisingly soothing; it was as though folding a perfect hospital corner could somehow calm his roiling emotions. It couldn’t last, though. The water shut off in the bathroom, and Kamet heard the door open. He set his glasses on the nightstand and got into bed as fast as he could, tugging the sheet over his head and turning toward the wall. When Costis came in, he did his best to keep his breathing slow and even. A floorboard creaked. Just when Kamet thought Costis would break the silence and call him out, his host sighed and turned out the light. Springs groaned, and after a while the room filled with the sounds of soft snoring.
Kamet lay in the dark, listening to Costis breathe, and wondered how he had gotten into all of this. When sleep finally claimed him, he was no closer to answering the question.
Kamet woke to light streaming through an unfamiliar window and the scent of fresh bread. His first thought—that Nahuseresh would kill him if his coffee was late—gave way to the realization that Nahuseresh was in jail and presumably had many other reasons to be angry. Nahuseresh also had the car keys and the key to the apartment. Kamet had his wallet and his battery-dead phone, nothing else. Which was why he was waking up in a stranger’s bed, and not his own bed on the other side of the city.
There was no sign of the stranger now, though. The bed across from his was empty, neatly made up. Kamet remembered his host saying something about getting up early, but he’d assumed the noise would wake him. He had always been a light sleeper, and living with Nahuseresh had made habit into necessity. Strange that he’d slept so heavily and so late; he must have been more tired than he realized.
It was probably better that he’d missed his host’s departure anyway. There would be no need for awkward morning conversation or polite refusals of additional help. Kamet could slip away unnoticed, find his way to the police station, and start cleaning up last night’s mess.
But when he descended the stairs and opened the door, he found himself in a kitchen. Racks of baked goods lined the shelves, neatly laid out in rows. Kamet’s mouth watered. Maybe it was the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air. Or maybe it was the man with his back to Kamet, bending over to arrange a tray of muffins in a glass-fronted case. He turned around with a smile and Kamet swallowed hard.
“Good morning Kamet!” Up until this point, Kamet had let a tiny part of himself believe this might all be a bizarre nightmare, brought on by stress or last night’s beer. Now he had to acknowledge the truth: this had to be real, because his dreams were never this kind to him. They didn’t give him tall, broad-shouldered men who looked like they belonged in a sportswear ad.
Kamet certainly wouldn’t have dreamed the guy into a bakery, either, but there was a smudge of flour on his cheek and he wore an apron that said Little Peninsula Loaves across his chest. “How are you feeling? What do you want for breakfast?”
Definitely not a dream. But the events of last night still felt unreal. “Ah, no thank you, I’m fine.” Kamet took a breath to steady himself. Coffee would have been welcome, but he’d already imposed enough. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I should be going.”
Last Night
It all started with a hand: gentle, briefly brushing his. Kamet flinched away.
“I’m sorry, I thought you might be going into shock.”
Kamet had been, he supposed. That was a normal reaction to a bar fight, wasn’t it? To seeing Nahuseresh in handcuffs, spitting insults? The scene replayed itself in his mind, accompanied by a soundtrack of his latest failures. Useless, useless, useless.
It didn’t make sense, this stranger wanting to help him. Being so nice about everything, even though Kamet’s roommate was the reason his—friend? Boyfriend? Was also in the back of a police car. For some reason, though, the man continued to do illogical things. Walking Kamet out of the bar and away from the judging eyes of the other patrons. Getting him talking.
“Do you know which bus you need? I can call you a cab.”
“I can’t go home, Nahuseresh has the keys.”
Who did this guy think he was, looking at Kamet with such kind eyes?
“Do you need a place to stay? I have an extra bed.”
None of it made sense, but that did nothing to stop it from happening.
“That...would be nice. If it’s not too much trouble.”
In the light of day, Kamet thought he must have been too much trouble after all, from the frown on Costis’s face.
“It’s a long way back to Mede by bus. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? On the house, I’m not going to make you pay for it.”
“Oh no, I wasn’t suggesting—it’s just, I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality, and it’s late already.” Last night’s guilt had returned in full force, gnawing at Kamet’s stomach. Nahuseresh must be so upset; Kamet knew he was going to hear all about it when he got home. How he should have been there when Nahuseresh needed him. How he should have gone to the police station after all, nevermind that he didn’t know where it was and had no way to get there. The longer he put it off, the worse the inevitable explosion would be.
Costis’s eyebrows rose. “Oh no, do you have to work? I’m sorry, I assumed...it’s Sunday. Stupid of me, obviously there are people who have to work on the weekend.” He gestured at the room around him, as if to say case in point. “It’s still going to take you forever to get all the way out to Mede, though...if you wait a few minutes, I can call someone to take over for me and give you a ride?”
Who was this guy? Every time Kamet tried to make himself less of an inconvenience, Costis offered to make him more of one. “I don’t have to work,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “And I actually work here in town, I’m doing a graduate program at the university.” Nahuseresh had been merciless about Kamet’s decision to go back to school; he’d gone on and on about what a drain that would be on his time, how he probably wouldn’t even be able to get a job in his field. Kamet had only been able to appease him by pointing out that his degree would be useful to Nahuseresh’s company—well, his family’s company, which he was set to take over one day—once he graduated. Property management and urban planning weren’t exactly the same field, but they fit together well enough.
Costis whistled. “You go to school here and live in Mede? That’s a hell of a commute.” He started pulling pastries from the display case and arranging them on a plate. “Listen, I won’t insist on driving you, but at least sit down and eat something before you go. I have time for a break before the brunch crowd comes in.”
Kamet really did mean to refuse, but his traitorous stomach chose that moment to growl audibly. “All right,” he conceded, “I’ll try one of your pastries. And...you said something about coffee?”
Five minutes later, Kamet found himself seated at a corner table, suppressing a moan as he bit into some heavenly concoction called an “Attolian nutcake”. He made a deliberate effort to chew, swallow, and wipe his mouth with a napkin before he looked up at Costis. It was no good though; Costis was grinning at him.
“You do like it.” It wasn’t a question.
“This,” Kamet said, with every ounce of dignity he could muster, “is an absurdly decadent thing to eat for breakfast.” He took another bite.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, then,” Costis said. “Try the bread next.”
Costis apparently had nothing better to do than watch Kamet eat breakfast, because he sat there the whole time Kamet was sampling his wares. He seemed to enjoy watching Kamet’s reaction to every new menu item. Kamet didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of reacting to the food, but it was impossible to deny how good it was. The coffee, at least, was merely average. Kamet nursed his cup and scowled at Costis over the rim.
“You know,” Costis said, when the plate was empty, “I don’t want it to seem like I’m judging, but...your living situation seems...not great?”
Kamet stiffened. “What do you mean?” He set his mug on the table harder than he meant to. “Nahuseresh isn’t always like that, you know. He was in a bad mood, he was drunk, he didn’t...he didn’t mean it.” His fingers tightened on the smooth ceramic, turning the cup around and around. He couldn’t look Costis in the eye.
“Well,” Costis said, propping his elbows on the table like some kind of barbarian, “I was referring to how far out of town it is. It’s what, two, three buses to get out to Mede from campus? That can’t be easy on you, if you don’t drive.” He reached across the table to touch Kamet’s hand, stilling it. “But now that you mention it...I wasn’t impressed by your roommate, either. Bad mood or no, drinking or no, people shouldn’t talk like that.”
“It’s fine,” Kamet said, pulling his hand away. “I’m used to it.”
Costis sighed. “All I meant to say was...if you’d prefer to live somewhere with less of a commute, I have a spare bed. The apartment isn’t huge, but the rent is cheap and it comes with free baked goods. That’s all.”
Kamet had to look at him then. “I’m sorry, what? You’ve known me less than a day and you’re asking me to...to move in with you?” He shook his head. “What if I were a serial killer?”
“Then you probably would have murdered me in my sleep last night,” Costis said, mouth quirking into a smile. “Aris threatened to do that often enough, over the snoring.”
“I’m serious,” Kamet said. “You don’t just meet someone at a bar and offer to let him live with you. Who does that?”
“Wouldn’t be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done on impulse,” Costis said. “Look, you don’t have to decide right now. Let me see your phone.”
Kamet pulled it from his pocket, then sighed at the dark screen. “I’m sorry, I forgot—the battery died overnight.” It sounded like a weak excuse, even though it was true, but Costis didn’t seem to think so.
“Oh no, I should have asked if you needed a charger—here, I’ll just have to write it down.” He pulled a pencil from behind his ear and jotted something on a napkin, then passed it over to Kamet. There was a phone number and a name: Costis Ormentiedes. “Think about my offer,” Costis said. “And call or text me if you decide you want to do it. Or...even if you don’t. You can still talk to me.”
Kamet folded the napkin with care and slipped it into his pocket. “I don’t understand you at all.” No one did this. People might do an occasional act of kindness, but they didn’t go out of their way to help strangers like this. Handsome men with muscles for days didn’t pick up men like Kamet at a bar, offer a place to stay with no strings attached, and then make un-self-conscious comments about their own snoring. And certainly no one offered to let a stranger move in simply because they had the space. That went beyond generosity and into the realm of stupidity.
Costis only smiled, a little sadly. “Just think about it.” He stood and cleared Kamet’s dishes away. “You know where to find me.”
It took Kamet a while to find the bus stop, and even longer to catch the first of the three buses he needed to get home. Everything ran less frequently on Sundays, and the Mede bus didn’t run that often in the first place. It was a relief to finally step off the last bus and make his way down the familiar street. The buildings were farther apart here, the wide sidewalks exposed for the scrutiny of townhouses and standard-issue lawns. No cramped city streets or stinking alleys here. Mede was a classy neighborhood, clean and spacious and orderly. Perhaps a bit too orderly for his current state. Kamet brushed a hand over his hair, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that his clothes had been slept in. It was important to maintain appearances; anything out of place would be noticed. It would reflect badly on Nahuseresh and damage Kamet’s future prospects if one of the neighbors started asking questions.
But something was very much out of place when Kamet reached the building where he and Nahuseresh lived. It was a stately apartment building, only a few spacious units with longstanding tenants. Nahuseresh’s family owned the place, of course. And someone was going to be in a lot of trouble with management, because the personal effects strewn about the lawn were a complete breach of the building rules.
Who on earth would make such a mess? Kamet wondered, squinting at the mess in disbelief. He knew all the neighbors; this wasn’t like any of them. And then, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Wait, isn’t that my shirt?
This wasn’t the work of one of Kamet’s neighbors. These were Kamet’s things—his clothes and books and oh gods his laptop with all his thesis research—lying out in the open for anyone to see. Slowly, not quite believing what he was seeing, Kamet picked up items at random. The laptop. His favorite sweater. A poetry book lying spine-up, pages crumpled but not torn. He clutched them to his chest, as though gathering his possessions could help him collect his scattered thoughts.
He had his arms full and was stooping down to reunite an argyle sock with its mate when the door to the building opened. Kamet jolted upright, scrambling for an explanation he could give if one of the neighbors was coming out to complain. But it was only Laela, the downstairs neighbor who held onto their spare key and sometimes invited Kamet over for tea when Nahuseresh wasn’t home. Kamet let a sigh of relief escape him and stepped closer. Then he saw the expression on her face, and his heart sank again.
“Kamet,” she said, and he could hear the pity in her voice, “I’m so sorry. He changed the locks.”
He...what? It wasn’t unthinkable for Nahuseresh to do something to embarrass Kamet when he was in a mood. This wasn’t the first time he’d done something reckless with Kamet’s property, either; he was a little careless, that was all, and was so used to having money that he didn’t have to take care of his possessions the way Kamet did. Kamet could see him throwing these things outside in a fit of pique. And wasn’t it better to damage a sweater or a piece of furniture than...than a person? Surely that was better. Nahuseresh had every right to be upset after last night. But…
“I don’t...understand,” he said. “He...he doesn’t mean it. He wouldn’t just...kick me out.” Nahuseresh relied on him. He said Kamet was the best roommate he’d ever had, the only one who understood him. He’d complained enough times about previous roommates, said he knew Kamet would never be as thoughtless or stupid as that, would he? Of course Kamet wouldn’t. Nahuseresh needed him.
Or so he’d thought. “He did, Kamet,” Laela said. “I heard talk about lawyers, writing up papers to evict a tenant who hadn’t been paying rent. He said he would get the police involved. I thought it must be someone in one of his other buildings, but then he said your name. And I looked outside and saw all this.”
“I…but I do pay rent, every month...” In cash, said a voice in the back of his mind, at a discounted rate in exchange for taking care of all the chores...not that there’s proof of any of it. This couldn’t be happening. But the proof was displayed on the front lawn, an overturned laundry hamper that had once been his orderly life. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Kamet,” Laela said, “I wish I could help, but you know I can’t do much.” Kamet did know. Her lease renewal was coming up, and Laela’s budget was far too tight to survive a sudden rent hike. Nahuseresh had been known to do worse to tenants who annoyed him. “But I did bring this.” She held out a duffel bag. “I think there are some old boxes by the recycling bins, too. Is there someone you can stay with for a while?”
Kamet took the bag with a shaking hand. “Thank you.” He set it on the ground and put the pair of socks he’d been holding inside. Then a sweater. Then a poetry book. Kamet pushed his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose; there was a smudge, he really ought to clean it. He put his hand in his pocket to see if there was a cleaning cloth he’d forgotten—and felt a rustle of paper.
Oh. The napkin had gotten a little crumpled, but the text was legible enough. Kamet looked at it for a long moment, holding it close enough that he could catch a faint scent of cinnamon. “I...think I do know someone. May I borrow your phone?”
When the bell above the bakery door announced Kamet’s departure with a forlorn jingle, Costis didn’t expect to see him again. Their entire acquaintance had been built around one weird night at the bar; if Costis got attached to everyone he met through one of Gen’s ridiculous schemes, he’d have more friends than he knew what to do with. And he already had plenty of terrible friends.
“If you’re done mooning over that guy like a lovesick puppy, I could use some help back here,” Aris said.
Speaking of terrible friends.
“I wasn’t mooning over anyone,” Costis protested, but he straightened up and wiped the part of the counter where he’d been leaning his elbows. He went into the kitchen to find Aris juggling two trays of cupcakes. “Give me that before you drop it.”
“Really? So you didn’t spend half an hour this morning watching him eat, and the rest of the day moping at the register? Next you’ll be telling me I didn’t see him come down from your apartment in last night’s clothes.”
Costis shook his head and started transferring the cupcakes to the display case. “It wasn’t like that, I told you. He got stranded in the city last night and needed a place to stay, so I offered him your old bed.”
“Maybe you should have offered him your bed,” Aris muttered, following Costis out of the kitchen. At Costis’s glare, he rolled his eyes. “What? Of course you offered him the spare bed, you’re so damn honorable it’s almost painful to watch. But how often do you meet a guy who’s so exactly your type? You should have at least gotten his phone number, that’s all I’m saying.”
“I gave him my number,” Costis said, taking the second tray. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a ‘type’, whatever that even means.”
“Oh, you absolutely do.” Aris tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Small, bossy dudes with good bone structure are one hundred percent guaranteed to drive Costis Ormentiedes wild. And giving him your number isn’t the same as getting his. Now you’re going to be constantly checking your phone hoping he texts you instead of doing something proactive about this.”
Costis snorted. “Since when have I ever been glued to my phone? You’re thinking of Philo.” Their friend Philologos had some kind of social media job, the details of which Costis did not understand and did not want to. “And the last guy I dated wasn’t that short.”
“He also wasn’t your type. You went out twice, and the second time you left halfway through the date because Eugenides was bored and wanted to play video games.” Aris returned to the kitchen and pulled a disc of sugar cookie dough out of the fridge. He floured the counter and started to roll it out. “Say, Costis...you aren’t still in love with him, are you?”
“With who? Whatever his name was...Cleon?”
Aris sighed and dropped the rolling pin on his dough with a thunk. “No, you idiot. Gen.”
“Of course not.” A timer beeped; Costis turned it off and opened the oven to check on the cookies already in there. “Bringing Kamet home had nothing to do with him, other than the part where he got Kamet’s roommate arrested. Asshole.”
“Gen?”
“No, the roommate!” Satisfied that the cookies were done, Costis moved them to a cooling rack and turned his attention to the dishes in the sink. “I just don’t think...I don’t know why Kamet puts up with him. I know Gen’s an annoying little shit, but if he hates someone enough to actually plot a bar fight, there’s probably a reason. And the things he said to Kamet...Kamet deserves better.”
“Wow.” Aris was watching him now, all traces of teasing gone from his voice. “You sure feel strongly about this guy, considering you just met last night.”
Costis shrugged. “I just...have a bad feeling about his roommate. That’s all.” He dried his hands and turned to go back to the register. The shop was still quiet, but if someone came in he should be ready to wait on them. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Costis had to fight off the impulse to check it. He’d only prove Aris right, and he knew it wouldn’t be Kamet.
But the phone kept buzzing. It wasn’t a text at all; someone was calling him. Costis fished it out of his pocket. The number wasn’t anyone in his contacts. Probably a telemarketer, or a robot trying to scare him into buying a car warranty. Even so, Costis glanced back at the kitchen to make sure Aris was occupied and pressed “accept”.
“Hello?”
“Costis?” The voice on the other end was shaky, but familiar.
“Yes, this is Costis. Is this…?”
“It’s Kamet.” It was a good thing Aris wasn’t looking his way; the grin on his face would have opened up a whole new round of teasing. The smile faded though, when Kamet spoke again and the shakiness grew more pronounced. It didn’t sound like nerves. “I...if you were serious about your offer...were you?”
His offer. The stupid, spur-of-the-moment idea that he’d blurted out without even thinking about it. The one where he asked Kamet to move in with him after they’d known each other less than twelve hours. “Yes, I was serious,” he said, because he wasn’t one to go back on a promise no matter how stupid it had been. “Why?” The obvious answer couldn’t be the right one.
“I...would like to take you up on it,” Kamet said, and oh, wait, maybe it was the right answer.
“Really? I mean, that’s great! When does your old lease end? I can call my landlord—I mean, he’s a friend, really, it won’t be a big deal—and let him know.”
“Um.” There was a long pause. “I don’t...it’s sort of…” There was the sound of a deep indrawn breath. “How soon can you call him? I should find out what the terms of the lease are, of course, but if I could bring some things over...there isn’t much, I promise, I won’t be in your way.”
Several unpleasant pieces clicked together. “Kamet,” Costis said, moving farther away from the kitchen in case Aris decided to eavesdrop, “Are you safe right now?”
“I...yes, of course.” Kamet sounded flustered. “I’m not in danger, I'm just...it’s a delicate situation, could we talk about it later?”
Costis nodded, then realized Kamet couldn’t see him. “Sure. Just to be clear though—do you want to move in today?”
Another long pause, only broken by a deep sigh. “Yes. If that’s all right.”
“Okay.” Costis wouldn’t ask—yet—but he thought he could guess where the situation stood. “Text me your address, I’ll be there as soon as I can get someone to cover for me. Do you have any furniture that won’t fit in a pickup truck?” Most people didn’t, if they were planning to move out with that little notice, but Costis had been the designated truck-owning friend for long enough to be prepared for anything.
“What? No, I...no furniture. But you don’t have to come out here, I can manage.”
Costis thought about Kamet leaving the bakery earlier; he’d walked out the door with plenty of confidence, but he’d turned the wrong direction if he planned to catch the nearest bus. And even without furniture, surely he had more to bring than the bus could easily handle. “It’s fine, I don’t mind,” he said. “It’ll be easier this way. Just send the address, I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. Okay?”
Kamet didn’t sound convinced. “All right. If you’re sure.” He was quiet for so long that Costis started to think he might have hung up, but then, “Costis?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Sure.” Costis hoped he sounded somewhat reassuring. “I’m looking forward to it.”
They ended the call, and a few seconds later a new message popped up with an address. Costis saved that and the number to his phone, realizing in the process that he hadn’t learned Kamet’s last name. Shaking his head, he put his phone away and went to the kitchen.
“So?” Aris said, watching Costis with undisguised curiosity. “That sounded like an interesting call. What’s up?”
“I’m going to get him. Kamet. I mentioned that I could use a new roommate and he called me and...I’m going to get him. Can you call Legarus and ask him to come in? I know it’s supposed to be his day off, but I swear I’ll make it up to him. You can both have off next Sunday, I’ll pick up his shift.”
Aris stared at him. “Costis,” he said, delicately for a man who could bench press nearly as much as Costis, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I just told you, I’m going to pick up my new roommate and help him move his stuff—”
“Your new roommate who you just met, who could be anyone for all you know. I get it, you’ve done dumber things for a pretty face, but...seriously?”
“It’s not because he has a pretty face,” Costis protested. “I told you, I had a bad feeling about his roommate, and that phone call just...well, I don’t know for sure, but it confirmed a few things.” People who were happy with their living situations didn’t usually drop them for the first offer that came their way. “As for how long I’ve known him...you remember how I got this apartment, right? I’m not in a position to judge. He needs help, and I can help him. What else do I need to know?”
“You got this apartment through sheer dumb luck,” Aris said, but he seemed to be giving up his argument. “You’re sure he needs help? You’re not overreacting?”
Costis folded his arms. “Even if I’m overreacting, I’m doing this, Aris. You remember what happened to Legarus. I’m not standing by to watch something like that happen to someone else.”
Aris swore under his breath. “Okay, you’re right, you should go. Legarus is gonna be mad, but...he’d probably be more upset if you didn’t go help this guy.” He wiped his hands on his apron and pulled out his phone.
“Thanks,” Costis said, hanging up his apron. “Seriously, I owe you both.”
“If this all goes horribly wrong, I will rub it in your face forever,” Aris retorted. “And if it goes right...I’m giving one hell of an embarrassing speech at your wedding.”