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Summary
Griffin halts, turning around to face you. “Cut that out.”
You grin. “I hardly know what you mean.”
“I need an ally, not a nanny,” He says, and through one of the holes in his pockets you can see his balled up fist.
“Then consider me the Patroclus to your Achilles.” You mock salute, grinning even wider at how his nostrils flare.
“I don’t see you taking any spears for me.”
“Nonsense, I would gladly fight the gods and go to war for you.” A beat passes. “You’ve seen me take on Anthony when he’s irate for your sake, is that not close enough?”