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“Are you sure we should attend, Boss?”
Corbeau groaned loudly and motioned Philippe over to help him with his tie that he was more than capable of fixing himself. “The mayor invited us, do you know what that means?”
“It means—”
“The mayor is a bigger diva than Jacinthe. If we don’t go entertain him, we’ll end up like that Gym Leader. Remember the Gym Leader, Philippe? Yeah, neither does the mayor. So, let’s treat him like a star client so that we don’t get thrown out of the city before I can put a statue of myself in front of his house, got it?”
Philippe tied it tight and met his eyes with a knowing glance. Some kind of question floated in the air.
“I know it’s hot, Philippe. It’ll be fine. We can bear it.”
“If you need a break from the heat, tell me.”
“Sure, of course, no worries.”
Philippe held onto his tie a while longer before letting out a breath, letting it go, and allowing him to continue to get ready. Corbeau dressed in his usual fashion despite the heat threatening to kill him through his layers, and Philippe insisted on wearing his beautiful uniform too, in solidarity. Philippe also threw on some of his gold rings from back in the day. Jewelry was not part of their uniform, but since they weren’t working, Corbeau okayed it. Corbeau threw on the most expensive watch he owned just to really solidify where he stood among the elites. Every time someone shook his hand, they’d have to glance at that watch, and he counted on it serving as an extra layer of intimidation.
As he finished up, Philippe turned him towards him to give him a quick once-over before they could leave for the night. “Eyeliner might run in this heat. Lipstick’s gonna gunk up on the champagne glasses.”
“Sure, sure. How’s the rest look?”
He lowered his voice to a sultry tone, “You look like you could kill a man, Boss.”
Corbeau smirked up at him and finally met his eyes for real.
Philippe added his silver glasses to his ensemble, the sharp details making him look dangerous. They’d also make him stand out among the elites. And he’d match Corbeau who had to wear glasses.
Philippe’s fond smile tried to help fortify him before they’d leave. He could feel it.
Corbeau gave Philippe’s cheek a double pat. “Let’s go then.”
Philippe drove, blasting the cold air in the limousine as much as possible. He had the rear view mirror pointed to Corbeau to be able to keep an eye on him, so Corbeau occasionally gestured something at him.
As they arrived, he stared out of the window. Philippe came around and let him out, muttering the names of everyone around them.
And it was still so hot! It felt sticky and gross, and he missed the office immediately.
Before they could enter the building, they had to greet people, including the mayor who seemed not at all thrilled by their presence. Still he greeted them and stopped for conversation.
“Seems you dropped Lysandre at just the right time, Mr. Corbeau.”
Corbeau nodded as if he only half heard him and replied, “Can you believe how hot it is out here?! The air tastes like shit!”
“It is ridiculously hot out tonight! But why did you come in so many layers then?”
Corbeau gestured at himself. “I can’t keep my good taste to myself! Anyway, see you inside.” Corbeau shook his hand, chuckling when the man eyed the watch for a moment.
The mayor laughed a little and moved on to the next person.
His rock, his Philippe, put a hand on his back and led him inside. Finally, cold air hit him and let him breathe again. Despite seeing some unsavory people in there, it felt worlds better than being out there.
Jacinthe approached them, saying something in her pitchy voice that he didn’t even hear.
Philippe looked at him like he was supposed to respond to her.
“Yeah, listen, I’m just here to be present. Not for you.”
She gave him a look and gestured for her dragon maid to hang out with Philippe. Meanwhile she dragged Corbeau away with the excuse that his eyeliner got smudged. He didn’t remember touching his face, but the heat corroded his memory. Sure, he let her take him away.
They entered the ladies room against his will, and she threw out whoever else was in there. Corbeau took out a bag he brought for touch-ups. He expected her to ridicule the black lipstick he went with or even the fact that he wore eyeliner, but she grabbed the bag, set it on the counter.
And she hugged him.
He glanced in the mirror and noticed he looked fine, nothing smudged. She brought him here to do this.
“I’m fine, it’s not a big deal.”
She didn’t reply.
“It’s just hot, I’m fine.”
Still no reply.
“I’m fine!”
“When I heard they couldn’t find Lysandre after what happened… I was thinking about you.”
That was all she needed to say. He started hugging her back and crying, sobbing, despite them being nearly perfect strangers. He was so pathetically easy to read. Did he look that broken the whole time? Did everyone see it?
When she pulled away, she did what she said and helped him clean his face. She reverted back to her fake voice, “The heat messed you up, but no worries; I always come prepared!”
Her hands carefully wiped the smudges on his face, and she reapplied the minimal amount of whatever she found in his bag.
“You know, the heat has you so exhausted, maybe you should get some rest?” Jacinthe suggested.
“Not gonna tell anyone I passed out, are you?”
She let out a fake, rich-girl laugh and patted his shoulder. “I’ll tell them Philippe had to carry you home because we could barely wake you up from the heat stroke.”
“Bratty princess.”
“Need some more time?” asked the bratty princess, earnestly.
He looked at the mirror and tried to figure out what he wanted to do. “Yeah, you go ahead. I need to fix this eyeliner you messed up.”
She disappeared without a goodbye.
When he stepped out, Philippe was right there, confused, but present. Corbeau prompted him to lean down so he could whisper to him.
“I need to go home.”
Philippe grabbed his hand, put it on his arm, and escorted him out of there without questioning him at all. The valet got their limo, they got in, and Philippe started to drive them home.
Grey eyes asked him why in the mirror.
“Too hot, I don’t wanna pass out in front of rich people, plus we saw the mayor already anyway. That was the obligation after all.”
Philippe opened the door, pulled him out, and carried him home while Corbeau finally cried like his heart had shattered into pieces.