Page 10 of Infernal Affairs

“Well, I don’t know if it’s ethical. I mean, she’s a client.”

He grimaces.

“Not a minor, obviously. Not even a student for much longer. Her best friend’s wedding is in three months, and that’s what she’s rehearsing for.”

He glances down at his hooves, embarrassed.

“She’s got two left feet and no clue about boundaries, which is actually kind of adorable. But I don’t want to, you know... cross a line.”

There’s a protocol for this.

Thirty years ago, I would have quoted the monster psychology manual and drawn a bright red circle around dual relationships.

Now, I just listen.

“Have you told her how you feel?” I ask.

He snorts.

“No. She probably just wants to get through the wedding without embarrassing herself.”

I watch the muscles in his neck shift beneath the fur and wonder how many nights he’s spent turning this over in his hands.

“Atlas, you’re not her therapist,” I remind him. “You’re her instructor. There’s a power dynamic, but it’s not insurmountable. The real risk is hurting yourself by never saying anything.”

He exhales again, softer this time.

“I keep thinking I’ll wait. See if anything develops. But the closer we get to the wedding, the more I think I’ll miss my chance.”

I nod.

I know the feeling.

I’m haunted by the twin fears that I’ll act too soon or too late and that the world is never calibrated for someone who operates on demon time.

“You don’t have to decide today,” I say. “But if you’re asking for my professional opinion, I’d wait until after her classes end. Then see if she still wants to see you.”

He considers that, tongue rolling thoughtfully over his teeth.

“That’s what I thought, too.”

Then he glances up, a rare gleam in his eye.

“Thanks, Doc. Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.”

He tilts his head, all curiosity and genuine warmth.

“When are you going to take your own advice?”

It hits me like a cold rag to the face, which is almost certainly his intent.

“You mean date someone from Thistlebrook?” I deflect.

“No.”

Atlas grins.