Work Text:
“You look like a storybook prince,” Galen said.
Piper looked up from checking the interior of his old mask, a thin needle clenched between his teeth. What storybook princes have blood-stained aprons and needles?
He stared at Galen for a long, unblinking moment, taking great pleasure in watching the paladin squirm in the only other office chair.
Finally, Piper put his mask on his desk and removed the needle from between his teeth. He twirled it between his long fingers. “What does the White Rat ask of me?”
“It’s a small favor! You won’t be alone!”
“Do I have the authority to say no to Beartongue?”
Galen smiled warmly. “Do any of us poor souls?”
Normally, it would be impossible for Piper to say no to his lover. Galen looked impossibly lovely, even dressed in clothes other than his armor. His tunic and thin jacket were the correct type of fabric that showcased his impressive biceps, and his leggings clung to his even more impressive thighs. Piper considered slapping a picture of his face on a health tonic bottle.
And yet, Galen’s tone was a touch too sweet. It was as if he was overcorrecting whatever was about to ruin the start of their lunch date.
He detected hijinks.
Piper narrowed his eyes. “There hasn’t been more headless bodies in my morgue… Nor has anyone been entangled in international court politics… No suspected poisonings either…” The sudden realization filled him with a certain dread. “Are you sure I can’t decline the invitation?”
“Would you rather I dance alone?”
“We can dance in the privacy of my home!”
“It’s for the children.” Galen leaned forward with his elbows on Piper’s desk. His gray-green eyes were wide and wholly innocent. “Wouldn’t the city’s best lich-doctor love to spend an evening on my arm, bullying aristocrats and politicians into spending their money for the sweet, sweet orphaned children?”
Piper gave a martyr-like sigh. He envied the corpses he had in the back room. “And what is this year’s theme?”
“Historic storybook characters. I have on good authority that Istvhan will dress as the One-Eyed Bard.”
Now, the dread in Piper’s stomach turned. “Will he…will he actually sing?”
Galen hummed a response.
“Well, our misery is also Beartongue’s. I’m sure someone will pay a good amount to make him stop mid-chorus.” Piper rubbed his eyes. “May the Rat preserve what’s left of our sanity.”