The little gold ball of light trembled. “R-Roy, this isn’t supposed to happen.”
Roy’s face was too close the Archon, beer on his breath. “I don’t care,” he slurred, “You shed dis was the tavern of one night shtands, and yer the only one here I wanna…” He trailed off, making an obscene gesture indicative of the meaning of the unsaid words.
Roy’s Archon’s thoughts whirled. It was not unheard of for an Archon to fall in love with their charge. But to act on that feeling was highly unprofessional, especially if the only chance you had of consummating that relationship involved capitalizing on the charge’s inebriation.
What was more important? The job of a lifetime, or the chance of a lifetime?
Emboldened, the little ball of light purred, “Okay then, Honey. Let’s find a room.”