“Exactly. We’re already behaving questionably. We might as well make it productive.”
/~/~/~/~/
The hedge smelled funky, and Mabon shifted his weight, feeling a branch dig into his spine. His expensive trousers were covered in mud.Something that might have been a spider crawled across his hand.
“This feels creepy,” Rux whispered from somewhere to Mabon’s left.
“Very creepy,” Mabon agreed, adjusting his binoculars.
“Extremely creepy,” Urien added. He’d wedged himself between two bushes and looked like a miserable shrub with arms.
None of them moved.
Through the binoculars, Mabon watched Sam’s kitchen window. Sam stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot. Basil sat on the counter despite what were surely health code violations in spirit if not actual law.
“He’s cooking,” Mabon reported.
“What’s he making?” Rux hissed.
“How should I know?”
“You have the binoculars!”
“I can see pasta. It’s pasta.” Mabon lowered the binoculars. “This is absurd. We’re absurd.”
“Completely absurd,” Urien confirmed. A twig stuck out of his hair.
“Should we leave?” Rux asked.
No one answered.
Sam lifted the pot to drain it. Steam fogged his glasses. He set everything down, removed his glasses, and wiped them on his shirt.
All three heart stones glowed in unison.
“He’s adorable,” Rux breathed.
“Focus,” Mabon snapped, though his own dragon preened at the sight of their mate performing domestic tasks. “We’re gathering information. Not...swooning.”
“I’m not swooning.”
“You’re definitely swooning.”
“Sam just put his glasses back on and stumbled into the counter. If that’s not swoon-worthy…”
“Shh!” Urien grabbed both of them. “He’s looking this way.”
They froze. Sam peered out the window, squinting into the darkness.
Mabon held his breath. Beside him, Rux had gone completely still. Urien’s fingers dug into Mabon’s shoulder hard enough to bruise.
After an eternal moment, Sam shrugged and returned to his pasta.
“That was close,” Rux exhaled.
“We should go,” Mabon whispered.
“Definitely should go.”
