Chapter Text
Euphea didn’t deign to comment on Hadakel’s change in schedule, quiet as she was, but she gave him knowing looks, amber lights intent. Telem more than made up for it, pestering him nonstop, until the current firefight with the Hive made him relent. Euphea had destroyed one of the ritual crystals, sickly green light it cast finally fading, giving his eyes a break, and they all took the breather for what it was.
“He’s awoken, Nightstalker, bartends,” he listed off the basics. “Why are you nagging me, Em?”
“You know I despise that nickname,” the Warlock snapped, adjusting a gauntlet.
“That’s why I used it.”
“Telem’s just bored and frustrated with her work. You know how Warlocks get, Hadakel,” Euphea added after a moment.
“That’s not true,” she said, sullen.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Hadakel said, glancing between them, before focusing on Telem again. “I guess I can tell you about it. Where was that cafe you liked?”
“On forty and twelve, Umbral District,” Telem informed him immediately, then paused. “We - don’t need to go anywhere. Sorry.”
Hadakel just sighed, a little fond, a little tired, and wondered how Efoh himself would’ve taken it all.
“Seriously, how hard can it be to find a Nightstalker mentor?” Efoh muttered, flicking through his tablet before tossing it aside onto the table. “Kalal’Vena I get, but is there literally no one else? No one?”
“Most of the files say that they’re all busy doing something off-planet,” Fiore said, spinning her facets peaceably in the space next to him. “If we wait long enough, I’m sure an opening will pop up.”
Efoh made a disgusted sound, running both hands through his hair. “It’s been five months, Fiore.”
“And we’re Guardians, so we live forever. In the grand scheme of things, five months is nothing.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said with a long sigh, leaning back in his chair, picking up the tablet again a moment later. Flicking through the listings and names again was pointless, of course; nothing had changed in the fifteen seconds he hadn’t been checking. “God. The worst.”
“Why not try and learn a different subclass?” Fiore suggested dryly. “You seem to like Hadakel’s Solar well enough.”
“Wow,” Efoh said without looking at her. Fiore only tittered, sweeping around to hover over his shoulder as he opened a new window and starting typing. “I doubt there’ll be openings. Nightstalker isn’t the most popular subclass in the first place.”
“Can’t hurt to check,” Fiore said. “Besides, you’ve never tried gunslinging before.”
“My aim’s good but not that good,” Efoh said, and his tablet finally loaded up the results. Both of them fell silent: there were actual openings available, from multiple people. “Alright, guess gunslinging is even less popular than Nightstalking, I see how it is.”
“Check Arcstriding,” Fiore said, and then when he tapped on one of the mentors instead, she said lightly, “Or not. Okay. I’ll go check myself, I guess.”
“Love you, Fiore,” Efoh said with a small smile, scrolling through the information. Hiri’Nimit was one of the highest-ranked gunslingers in the City, apparently, which explained why her name was vaguely familiar, and she had five spots open. Five . He looked to his Ghost. “Unless you find anything better than this, I’m going for it.”
“There’re only a few slots left for Arcstriding,” Fiore said after a moment, “And not with the big names. Oh, but it looks like Archemedius Stratus took on a new student a while back. That’s interesting.”
“Whoop-de-fucking-whoop,” Efoh said, tapping away at his screen. “Guess nightstalking will have to wait until after gunslinging, then. Wonder if Hadakel’ll give me tips on Solar.”
“Is there even a chance that he’d refuse?” Fiore said, amused, and Efoh only grinned and submitted his application, feeling a little smug. If Hiri’Nimit accepted him, then - finally, finally, he’d be actually learning shit, not just picking up random jobs and bartending and whatever. Plus, Solar was something else he could talk to Hadakel about, and Fiore sighed and said, “You have a one-track mind, Efoh.”
“Yep,” Efoh said, because, as with most things, she was absolutely correct. The only difference now was that he didn’t particularly care.
Efoh ended up taking him to a dumpling house the next time they met up. It was a busy, bustling place, and Hadakel could see why he had insisted they get there early: by the time they were seated, there was a line out the door, and even after they paid and left, seemingly no dent had been made in the crowd. It made sense, in retrospect. The food had been excellent and relatively inexpensive.
“I can walk you back,” Efoh offered as they left, pushing through the line to get to the streets. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t.”
“I’d rather you did, actually,” Hadakel smiled, and squeezed Efoh’s hand. The night air was chilly, like the first date, but he hardly minded.
“That’s a first,” Efoh said, looking down at him with a grin. “You’re not afraid I’ll talk your ear off?”
“You’re afraid I would tire of hearing you talk?” Hadakel returned, grinning back. Seriously? Helmi asked, but he ignored her.
“Most people do.”
“Well, I’m not most people,” Hadakel said, bumping his arm against Efoh’s for good measure as they turned a corner. There were plenty of people still going about their evenings, lending its own kind of vibrancy to the streets, along with the glowing signage.
“Clearly,” Efoh agreed, squeezing his hand. “Any plans for tomorrow? I’ll be working if you want to drop by the Hammering in the evening.”
“Telem wants to drag me to the Crucible, but I might be able to stop by,” he said.
Efoh dipped his head in a nod. “No pressure. Far be it for me to intrude on your Crucible time.”
“I don’t often compete,” Hadakel informed him. “But Telem nags now and then, and we are a coordinated fireteam, so.”
“So, what,” Efoh said. “You win lots of matches, is that the takeaway I should be getting?”
“I don’t even know what my win-to-loss rate is,” Hadakel said. “But it does help win a match when there’s coordination, yes.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Efoh said with a laugh. “Not my cup of tea, at any rate. But maybe that’s just because I haven’t done it much.”
“Could try teaming up for it, maybe,” Hadakel mused, watching the sky. It had been cloudy most of the day. “Takes some getting used to.”
“If you ever need a Nightstalker,” Efoh said, singsong. “Though I imagine Euphea-Seven can cover that if she wanted to.”
“She could, but I’m beginning to suspect she’s not as good with the Void as you are,” Hadakel smiled at him, nudging his arm.
“You’ve hardly see me use it, and she probably has years of experience on me besides.” Efoh brought his hand up and kissed the back of it. “Thanks, though.”
“She’s good because she’s trained, but you have a natural inclination to it,” Hadakel said. “Should I just compliment you on something different, like the fact you actually have hair and she doesn’t?”
“You can if you want,” Efoh said, grinning. “Pretty weak compliment game, though. I don’t even comb my hair most days.”
“I’m going to have to show you a hair routine,” Hadakel said, gravely.
“That answer just activated my fight-or-flight response.”
Hadakel hooked his arm with Efoh’s, eying him. They only had a block until his apartment, and he was already wistful about Efoh leaving. “As if you’d willingly run away from me.”
“Cocky,” Efoh drawled, tugging at his grip without any force.
“Implying you aren’t?”
“Implying you are, actually,” he said, reaching over with his free hand to pat Hadakel’s arm. “But sure, if it makes you feel better.”
“Sure,” Hadakel echoed with a laugh, willing to let it go. “Almost there.”
“Good timing, because Fiore says it’s going to start raining in a few seconds,” Efoh said, smiling at him.
“I was wondering when it would start,” he said. “You should have brought the hat.”
“Why, because it’s waterproof?” Efoh said dryly, and then more seriously, “I keep forgetting to get it back to you. Next time, promise.”
“It’s no trouble, I can always make another,” Hadakel said. “Just a left turn here.”
“So you’re telling me it is waterproof?” Efoh asked, turning when Hadakel did. He could feel the rain now - still light, just a sprinkle, but given the darkness of the clouds, that was bound to change quickly.
“It’s not,” Hadakel said, glancing at Efoh. “But I meant you can keep it.”
“It will have a place of honor in my closet,” Efoh said solemnly. “Which is to say, not the floor.”
“How kind,” Hadakel said, flat, as he felt more raindrops on his head. Luckily the day was ending and he didn’t need to worry about keeping his hair presentable.
“That’s me,” Efoh agreed. “The kindest. I’ll take good care of it, though, seriously.”
“Here we are,” Hadakel said, as Helmi keyed him in and he opened the door to the lobby. Clean and clear, empty of people, the lights dimmed and only brightening as they moved about. “Did you want to stick around and see my apartment, or do you need to get going?”
“I should probably get back,” Efoh said, eyes narrowing in thought. “Don’t want to take up your time if you’ve got Crucible. Fiore, any luck finding the driest route?”
“ It involves climbing onto four balconies and going under several strategically-placed awnings, but yes. Shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes, and there would be only be a collective total of three minutes in the actual rain.”
“Sweet,” Efoh said, and then to Hadakel, “I’ll see you later, then?”
Hadakel stared at Efoh for a few moments. He was hopelessly adorable, really. “You could also sleep over, and not get rained on at all.”
“Wait. If you climb a fifth balcony, you can shave off another thirty seconds.”
“Fiore, you’re a godsend. Literally,” Efoh said, and he neatly pulled his arm free of Hadakel’s to take his hand instead. “I don’t want to intrude, Hadakel, it’s fine.”
“It’s not intruding if I offered,” Hadakel smiled. “Seriously. I’m concerned that you’re so averse to rain you’re trying to chart a whole parkour course to avoid it.”
“That’s exactly what Fiore is doing, actually.”
“It’s not the first time we’ve done this,” Fiore said over comm. “We’re professionals.”
“Besides, all my stuff is in my apartment anyway,” Efoh said, though he studied him a moment later. He was more hesitant when he said, “Do you - really want me to stay over?”
“I’m not going to force you, of course,” Hadakel held up his free hand. “I thought it was obvious I like spending time with you, but in case it wasn’t - I do.”
Efoh gave a slow nod, not really looking surprised but certainly looking pleased, and he said, “Okay. Then lead the way, I guess.”
Hadakel did just that; there were only two staircases, cleared in no time. “Neighbors are usually quiet. Not that I’ve really met them,” he said. “I’m the second door on the left, there.”
“Sure,” Efoh said. Hadakel could see him scan over the hallway, sizing up the place in a few seconds before focusing back on him. “Seems like a nice place.”
“It is,” Hadakel agreed, as Helmi unlocked that door, too, without any snide commentary. He opened it, ushering Efoh inside and already unbuttoning his coat. “Well, here we are. Kitchen plus living room right here, and to the right is my storage, bedroom, bathroom.”
“Sure,” Efoh said again, glancing around again. Maybe it was just a hunter thing or something; Hadakel had seen Euphea do the same thing, marking exits and identifying escape routes.
Hadakel hung up his coat in the closet off to the right. “If you want to take your shoes off,” he said. “I’m not here a lot, but I try to avoid tracking stuff everywhere.”
Efoh did so without a word, nudging them next to Hadakel’s, taking off his coat to fold it over his arm. “You have a nice apartment,” he said. “I’m a little envious.”
“Part of the reason I’m not here much is running strikes constantly to pay for it,” Hadakel said, gesturing for Efoh’s coat, and hanging it up when he handed it over. “It could be - worse , I suppose.”
“And here I thought you ran strikes because you liked running strikes,” Efoh said teasingly. “Silly me.”
“Make yourself at home,” Hadakel grinned. “I don’t mind it, it’s work that needs to be done, but it does get tiresome.”
“Such a shame that I’m here, taking up your time,” Efoh said, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. “Would you ditch Crucible if I told you my morning was free tomorrow?”
“I might,” Hadakel replied, staring back and settling his arms on Efoh’s shoulders. “What are you offering?”
“Haven’t thought that far ahead,” Efoh said, leaning a little closer. “But I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure you will,” Hadakel said, softer.
Efoh let out a soft hum and kissed him, just for a moment. “It’d be nice to stay in and do nothing, I guess. But there’re other things to do, of course. If you’d prefer.”
“And do these other things involve less clothing?” Hadakel raised an eyebrow.
There was a long pause before Efoh said, “You know, I was thinking about a museum, but that’s an appealing idea. Perhaps more so.”
“Museums are nice too,” Hadakel laughed, lifting his hand to card through Efoh’s hair.
“So are you,” Efoh said, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Work of art and everything.”
“Oh, god,” Hadakel groaned, and pressed his face into Efoh’s shoulder, though he didn’t manage to entirely dispel his grin. “That was so bad, Efoh.”
“Yep,” Efoh said, tightening his hold on him. “You don’t seem to mind it too much. Very effective method to remind you that I think you’re wonderful.”
“I suppose it is,” Hadakel said, reluctantly, looking up at him again. “And even if you don’t do anything with your hair, it is very nice,” he added, still moving his fingers through Efoh’s hair.
“Thank you,” Efoh said, smiling down at him. He looked very kissable, actually, so - Hadakel simply leaned closer and did just that. Lips still chapped, and a faint trace of dinner, but he didn’t think he’d ever really tire of kissing Efoh.
Probably the first thing he really noticed was that it was very, very warm. Between that thought and opening his eyes, Efoh vaguely remembered where he was, but there was a moment of complete incoherency because he was very close to Hadakel’s face right now, and - right. In a bed, in Hadakel’s apartment, there was sunlight peeking through the windows so it was morning, and he blew out a slow breath, whistling it quietly between his teeth, and reached out a hand to carefully rest it on Hadakel’s cheek.
He was so pretty. Efoh had poems about his smile, true, but there were ballads to be written about the slope of his jaw, the line of his nose, his skin and his hair and the color of his eyes, and it really, really didn’t help that he knew his way around makeup and knew exactly how to accent the features of his face. And he’s a Titan, Efoh thought, lightly running his hand over Hadakel’s shoulder. Muscles and all that. It should’ve been entirely illegal for someone to be this good-looking and, worse, know how to take advantage of it.
This close, though, let him pick up on all the smaller details, ones he’d missed the night before: The slight curve to his lips, just barely not a smile; long eyelashes, usually unnoticeable with the facepaint; the fucking perfect eyebrows, even, Efoh hadn’t really thought about those until he was staring at them. So unfair, he thought again, brushing his fingers through Hadakel’s hair, and even asleep he looked breathtaking. People should not be born this beautiful, or be allowed to be this beautiful in general.
Not that Efoh was complaining, because, uh, he’d definitely benefited from it, but still. One of these days he wouldn’t keep his mouth shut and he’d go through an entire poem right in front of him, and it was one thing having Hadakel hear a snippet of a poem, quite another to consider Hadakel hearing three stanzas or more. You make it too easy to fall in love with you, Efoh thought, leaning in to rest his forehead against Hadakel’s, closing his eyes and pressing close to him, and the thought didn’t need any more exploration than that.
Hadakel wound up cooking more often because of that Efoh’Suele, but he didn’t mind. It was good, peaceful, even, to have something to look forward to - the food and the drinks and conversations, interspersed with kissing, and he smiled to himself.
Helmi laughed at him then, and often, ever since he’d happened upon the Hunter by chance, and anything that made him feel that much happier, and his Ghost as a bonus, was worth chasing, hanging onto.
He found himself lingering more on awoken with similar bronze hair, or blue eyes, where he’d gone on before, and paying more attention to the quiet pressure of Void Light, and it was funny, how swiftly and silently things had changed, shifted, and part of him wondered if - if it was all that smart, really, all that prudent.
But mostly, he didn’t mind that idea too much - after all, for all the Titans’ history, the almost proud traditions of before the Golden Age, of warfare, and all the gore and glory and horror it entailed - Efoh still surprised him with the poetry, though he rarely let it slip.
Surprised, and delighted, really, because he couldn’t help but feel weirdly - special, garnering that kind of attention from an artist - and that’s what Efoh was, really. Words, drinks, shadowshots, and all.
You’re almost as hopeless as he is, you realize, Helmi pointed out.
I’d argue it’s different, Hadakel replied.
Oh?
It’s more like - I never expected any of this, and I’m...hopeful, instead.
To be fair, it was his own damn fault, but Hadakel had asked.
Specifically he had asked if Efoh had written any poetry, and it was because he was tipsy, probably, or maybe because Hadakel looked like he hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours, that he had said yes, have a few pieces memorized, why.
Care to share? Hadakel had said, and Efoh hadn’t even given it a single moment’s thought before he opened his mouth and bang, found the dumbass, it was him.
It wasn’t that it was a bad poem, because it wasn’t - it really fucking wasn’t, Efoh had spent weeks on it in his head - but the subject matter was also sitting across from him right now, listening to him wax poetic about his eyes and the line of his jaw and his clothes that fit along the curves of his body and the way Solar curled around him like a cloak, on and on and on, and it took him at least a minute to realize what the fuck he was saying. By then, though, it was too late; he’d plowed through a little less than half of the entire poem.
“Uh,” he said after he stopped abruptly - five stanzas, he’d gone through five stanzas - and then he coughed, took a drink from his glass. He didn’t look at Hadakel even as he moved over to the other end of the couch, almost into his space; instead he just cleared his throat and said, “Yep. Still working on that one. Ha.”
“Efoh, relax,” Hadakel said, and okay, fine, Efoh glanced over. He looked less like a person on four hours of sleep and more, well, rested, a soft smile curling his lips. “I don’t know a lot about the ins and outs of poetry, but it sounded - very, very good, which seems a little weird to be saying, since it’s about me, but,” he paused, tapping his fingers on his knee, and Efoh might have been tipsy, tipsy enough to make this entire mistake in the first place, but - he squinted to double-check. It honestly might have been the first time he’d seen Hadakel flush.
“Are you - you’re blushing,” Efoh said dumbly. Hadakel laughed and put his face in his hand, swatting at him without any force. “Holy shit. That’s adorable.”
“No one’s ever written anything about me, Efoh,” he said after a few more moments. “So - yeah.”
“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” Efoh breathed without really thinking about it, moving a leg to nudge Hadakel’s with his foot. He wasn’t sure if he had even heard, and he swept on before Hadakel could respond. “Poem’s in iambic pentameter, s’why it sounds good or whatever-the-fuck when spoken out loud. It was gonna be a sonnet. Then it got too long, and now I have no fucking idea what it is, but it’s got, like, eleven stanzas and I frankly don’t know if it’s gonna end.”
“Efoh,” and Hadakel was looking at him now, somewhere between fond and embarrassed if he had to guess, and he reached over and took his hand. “You’re ridiculous, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Believe me, I know,” Efoh said, putting his glass aside and taking Hadakel’s too, placing it next to his and then tugging him over to him. It was clumsy at best, but eventually they settled together into a somewhat comfortable position, Efoh laying across the couch’s length with Hadakel a warm weight on top of him, and he kissed the crown of Hadakel’s head. “Your fault for being an inspiration, though. That’s completely on you.”
“Perish the thought,” he drawled. “How dare I show up and upset your status quo, inspiring you like some fiend.”
“I know, it’s awful,” Efoh said, grinning, curling his arms around him to rest his hands at the small of his back. “You and your stupid, beautiful smile. I got written up at work that day, you know. Worth it, but still.”
“I didn’t have you under some contract to waste an hour when your shift was supposed to start, all to look for a cat that didn’t need finding,” Hadakel added, shifting back enough to look at him and raise his eyebrow. “That’s on you.”
“And I got your comm frequency out of it, so no regrets whatsoever,” Efoh said smugly.
“Which you never proceeded to use until I showed up at the Hammering a week later on a whim,” he pointed out, smirking.
“The problem is that I’m a coward when I’m sober,” Efoh informed him, and then paused. “That being said, if I had called you while drunk, it would probably have been either extremely awkward or, like, a booty call. Both of which would not have gone over well, I imagine.”
Hadakel laughed, winding his fingers into Efoh’s hair. “And thus, the five stanzas you said in so many minutes?”
“Yep,” Efoh said, popping the p. “Just be glad I didn’t say all eleven, the last two aren’t even in iambic pentameter yet. - Why, you want to hear ‘em again?”
“I think I have a better idea on what you could do with your mouth,” Hadakel murmured before kissing him, which, you know? Fair enough, Efoh wasn’t going to complain, and he slipped his fingers beneath Hadakel’s shirt to dig them into the skin of his back, exhaling sharply when Hadakel’s tongue ran across his lips, and huh, well. Maybe the poetry hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.
Really, the only downside of staying at Hadakel’s place was the fact that sometimes he had to get up early for fireteam missions. Which sucked, because Efoh was a light sleeper and always woke up when Hadakel moved around to get ready, but that was just the way it was. He could live with it - a small price to pay - and it was one of those mornings when Hadakel rolled out of the bed at the ungodly hour of seven. Efoh actually had work later that day, though, so he got up too, why the fuck not.
“How long are you gonna be gone again?” Efoh asked, blearily following Hadakel to the bathroom, and it would never not be amazing that he had a toothbrush here, but there it was, he had his own fucking toothbrush here.
“Seven hours is what Helmi projects,” Hadakel said. “By the time I’m back to the City you’ll probably be at work, so we’ll have to settle for something later tonight, I guess,” and then he smiled, and it wasn’t fair that he looked perfect even though his eyes were a little red and his hair was a mess, but Efoh just sighed and pulled him in to press a kiss to his forehead.
“Just comm me to let me know,” he said, leaning against him. “Or come around to the bar, yeah.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Hadakel said, giving Efoh a kiss on the lips before he scooted back, stripping off his pajamas and starting the shower. Efoh just went back to brushing his teeth - he could shower at his own apartment, whatever - and, once done, paused briefly at the door.
“You want the leftovers for breakfast?” he asked, thinking back, and yeah, leftovers had been a thing, he was pretty sure. Probably. Hadakel had made something Efoh couldn’t remember the name of, and it had been really fucking good, but there were leftovers.
“You’re welcome to them,” Hadakel replied over the noise of the spray. “Don’t know if I have time to sit around and eat.”
“I can, like. Put it in a box or some shit that you could eat on the way. It’s really not hard.”
Soon enough the shower stopped, and Hadakel laughed. Funny how Efoh knew the pattern now, that Hadakel took only the briefest of showers when he had a fireteam mission, longer ones when he didn’t. “Okay, if you want.”
“I like knowing you’re not fucking starving out there, yeah,” Efoh called as he left the bathroom, rolling his eyes when Hadakel said something about emergency rations or whatever. It was an easy task, though, taking out the leftover… something and then snapping it into a box and dropping a fork on top, easy, done. He’d just grab something on the walk to work, Efoh figured, leaning forward on the table, and hopefully that would be enough to wake him up in time to open the bar. “Voilà,” he deadpanned when Hadakel actually walked into the kitchen, making a vague gesture to the leftovers, and Hadakel only laughed and shook his head when Efoh drawled, “It’s me, the master chef. Have a box.”
“Thank you, oh great master chef,” Hadakel said, leaning down to kiss the top of Efoh’s head, and he looked stupid hot in the undersuit that went with his armor, all dark and form fitting and wet, slicked back hair. He was staring again, but at least Hadakel was used to it by now and just flashed him a grin whenever he glanced over.
The silence was comfortable, and Efoh was content to sit and watch Hadakel appear and disappear from view, gathering all of his equipment with practiced ease. Hard to think he’d ever have mornings like these, honestly, weird to think how much could change in a number of days, weeks, and he only snapped out of it when there was a knock at the door, three solid taps.
“Should I get that,” he said to the apartment at large, since Hadakel was currently in the disappeared stage, somewhere in the bedroom, probably. He shrugged when there wasn’t a response and dragged himself to the door, and when he opened it he was left to stare at an awoken. Or Warlock, rather, given the robes - pastel, with the faint pink hair and faint purple skin. An irritable stare, too, and past her, an Exo with purple casing and amber lights.
“Hi, is Hadakel up?” the exo said, mouth lighting up with blue, and that must be Euphea, some part of his brain helpfully reminded him. Which meant the other was Telem. Guess this was one way to meet Hadakel’s fireteam, and he was honestly too tired to really care either way. (Weird; they were both so much shorter than he was.)
“Yeah, he should be just a sec,” Efoh said, and then, when there was no outward reaction from either of them, including himself, he said, “I’m Efoh. You must be his fireteam.”
“Yes,” Euphea replied with a slight incline of her head.
“It’s the boyfriend,” Telem said, and it seemed as if she was measuring his entire worth with her grumpy stare.
“It is, in fact, the boyfriend,” Efoh agreed, leaning on the doorframe, and yeah, he was, wasn’t he? Weird. Telem looked like she could kill him with a snap of her fingers. Euphea too, honestly. And Hadakel, of course, so he guessed that all checked out, yep. “Nice to meet you.”
Euphea actually smiled, though it was subdued what with the faceplates she had to work with. “You, too. Nightstalker, right? I think that’s what he said.”
“Ooooh, look at you Hunters, making small talk,” Telem muttered, settling against the outside wall and crossing her arms over her chest. Euphea shot her a sideways glare; the Warlock didn’t acknowledge it.
“Nightstalker, yeah,” he said after a pause, eyeing Telem only briefly before looking back to Euphea. “And if you want a good drink, I’m your guy, I guess.”
“The Hammering, right?” Euphea shook her head. “That pun is something else. I’m not sure if I hate it or I’m impressed.”
“You can say you hate it,” Efoh said with a dip of his head. “Though we do offer some pretty good drinks for exos, if that’s your thing.”
“I was being honest about that,” and her lights flared a little, in amusement, probably. “Nice. Maybe someday Hadakel will take us there,” she added, pitching her voice louder. A good point, since Hadakel was usually out the door by now, and Efoh turned his head back to glance into the apartment, but nope, still nothing.
“I work most nights, if you’re really that curious,” Efoh said after a moment, looking back at her. He shrugged. “Can probably get you free drinks depending on how busy it is, too.”
“That’s nice, but I’m not going to bum free drinks just because I tangentially know a bartender,” she replied, gentle, and they both turned again to look at the sound of Hadakel’s footsteps.
“Sorry, Helmi made me double check everything,” Hadakel said, and then took a moment to study the scene: Telem glowering in the hallway, Euphea standing there, Efoh leaning against the doorframe. “Because she was enjoying this, probably.”
“Enjoying what, exactly. Me saying ‘it is, in fact, the boyfriend’?” Efoh said, raising an eyebrow, stepping out into the hall so Hadakel could get past.
“No, the whole thing!” the Ghost in question chirped, appearing. “Telem is grouchy ‘cause it’s so early and Euphea is miserable being the Responsible Mom Figure - it would’ve been better but you are also too tired to react much and flounder.”
Euphea sighed, Hadakel sighed, and Telem rolled her eyes, though Efoh wondered if he saw a slight smile - and then Hadakel yanked him into a partial embrace with one arm and pressed a kiss to his lips. His armor was cold and smooth, and he kind of tasted like toothpaste, but Efoh didn’t mind all that much because he smelled nice and he liked kissing Hadakel, so that was that. The makeup, though - Hadakel had dark paint around his eyes, and stripes jutting down his chin, that was new. And attractive, but that wasn’t new, and he couldn’t help the smile.
“Nice paint,” Efoh said when Hadakel pulled back, kissing him one last time. “Don’t bite it out there, I’d be very sad.”
“I do so much and you don’t appreciate me,” Helmi said, her fins drooping exaggeratedly so.
“See you later,” Hadakel said, ignoring his Ghost as Telem pushed off the wall.
“Have a good day, Efoh,” Euphea called, and her cape swirled a bit when she turned.
“Good luck,” Efoh said in response, unable to keep from smiling when Hadakel shot him one last grin, and from there he stepped back into the apartment with a sigh, stretching his arms above his head, wandering around to collect the rest of his things. Clothes, mostly. He picked up any trash and shit he found, too, of course, he wasn’t a heathen and he knew he was a guest, and only when the place was presentable did he go out the door, making sure it was locked behind him.
Swing by his place, get a new change of clothes, go to work all day, see Hadakel at the end. Then training with Hiri tomorrow, more work, more training, Hadakel again, and Efoh hummed under his breath as he went along. This was good. Life was good. It was strange how fast things had happened, how quickly things had looked up, but he wasn’t complaining, not in the least.