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Zee recoiled so hard he almost fell off his stool. “Wait, let me think? Fuck. No.”

Tom Collins rolled his eyes. “Man baby.”

“The fuck you just call me?” Zee snapped. His wings flared, then gave a little warning shimmer. “Do I look like human spawn to you? Is this exquisite package of demon prowess a pink potato? I think fucking not. Take that back.”

“Easy.” Tom Collins raised his hands. “What do I know? I’m just an AI, with no emotional depth or ability to experience feelings.” He picked up a random glass and wiped it down. “See? Sticking to my script, and doing my fucking job.”

Zee glared. His tail whipped back and forth. His wings sizzled.

“Zee?”

“Yes, Adam.” He snapped his teeth together.

“Are you okay? You seem a little . . . tense.”

His top lip rippled. “I am not tense. I am abso-fucking-lutely fine. I may have read some Reyzee fanfic and learned a few fucking things about myself, such as, I’m not not into him. And totally unrelated to Fuck-Hard, is that I want to dance. But he’s right fucking there.” He was gesturing again. “I can’t chill, knowing he’s there and I maybe want him to watch—that fanfic was fucking hot—and it’s the fucking internet’s fault.” A low growl rumbled out of him. “It should be fucking hashtag Zeenard.”

“Okay.” Zee was clearly having a fanfic crisis. “Can I help in any way?”

“No. Maybe. Alright. Distract me.” He propped his elbows on the bartop, buried his face in his hands, and groaned. “If he takes any longer making that cabinet we’ll all be dead of old fucking age,” he mumbled, then breathed in and looked up at me. His eyes sparkled, a little more softly than before. The little smile was real too. “He used a ruler, Kitten. A fuckin’ ruler, to check the corners were perfect. Who the fuck uses a ruler to make furniture?”

“A set square,” Reynard interrupted, appearing behind him.

Zee jolted. His wings popped out, to balance himself, and would have knocked Reynard over if he hadn’t neatly sidestepped them. “Sweet baby Gareth. Vampire, you were this close to getting my knuckles through your fangs. A square what now?”

“Gareth?” I asked.

“Baby Gareth?” Zee explained. “Son of human God?”

I glanced at Reynard, who arched an eyebrow. “I think it’s maybe, baby Jesus?” I offered.

“Gareth? Jesus?” Zee shrugged. “What does it matter? Reynard almost got my fist in his face.”

Reynard added, “It likely matters to several billion humans.”

Zee flung a hand at me. “Adam is human, and he doesn’t know Gareth’s name. Maybe these humans should get their names straight?”

“I am definitely human,” I agreed.

A moment of tense silence fell over the three of us, until Reynard cleared his throat. “It’s called a set square.” He raised the little triangular measuring tool Zee had seen him use in making the cabinet. “For measuring exact angles.”

Zee squinted. “That’s clearly a fucking triangle.”

“You are correct. It’s triangular in shape. But it’s called a set square.” Reynard placed it into his shirt pocket. Did he just happen to have a set square hanging around, or did he carry one with him at all times for angular emergencies? “Regardless, Adam, I’ll continue the cabinet’s construction tomorrow. I’m needed elsewhere this evening. I will return.”

“Okay, sure⁠—”

“Or, you know? Here’s a thought. Don’t come back at all?” Zee suggested. “Just an option. It’s good to have options. Think about it.”

Reynard ignored Zee’s advice, and bowed his head. “Good evening, Adam . . . Zodiac.”

We watched Reynard scoop up his jacket, hook it over his shoulder, and leave the bar. “He’s trying,” I told Zee.

“Yeah, he fucking is.”

I picked up my whiskey, Zee picked up his replenished fancy cocktail, and we sat a while in silence, sipping our drinks. I needed to approach the idea of seeing his contract, but now was definitely not the time to bring up Sebastien or Razorsedge.

Zee sighed. “Ever since we found him in Vampire Mansion, all fucked-up, I’ve been . . . feeling things.” A shudder ran from his horns to his toes, then back up his wings.