“Fortunately for you,” Titus drawled, pulling him from his thoughts, “you’re not a parasite, but you’ve managed to ensnare a Connect anyway.”
“That’s not funny.” Cal crossed his arms. “Seriously. What is it?”
“If you were that curious, you could have asked me sooner.”
“Do you mean at dinner, the only meal you’ve fed me at a table so far?” He’d been starved between sessions, but every three or so days, there’d been food. “Or when I was hanging from the ceiling with a hook shoved up my ass?”
The first week he was here, they’d fed him there just like that. Dangling from the ceiling while speared on their demonic device.
“That is funny.” Titus stood, ignoring the way Calix braced despite the distance still between them. “Except for the part about not feeding you enough. I almost forgot. You should eat before bed. Come here.”
Cal stood his ground as Titus stepped to the door and leaned out into the hall. When he straightened, he was holding a small metal square box, which he brought to the desk.
“Aodhan dropped this off before heading for his night shift,” the director explained as he began to set the table. “He mentioned you know what kind of sauce to ask for if the flavor isn’t to your liking.”
“Kind of…” interest piqued, he moved so he could see around Titus to the table, “…sauce?”
There were three slices of pizza on a white plate.
“Fucking asshole.” His cheeks turned pink, and he dropped his gaze the second Titus turned around, not wanting to be seen blushing at a time like this.
“I saw that too, you know,” the director had to notice his discomfort, but pushed ahead anyway. “I watched you come all over your food and eat it. It was…surprising isn’t the right word, but it’s the closest I can find. I had no idea you were that kinky, little monster.”
“If you watched us, that means you know I’m a lot kinkier than that,” he argued.
“What, because you like to be cut and bled?” Titus shook his head. “That’s nothing. Unoriginal.”
“Un—” Cal snapped his mouth shut, telling himself he wasn’t going to play into this. “You’re trying to get a rise out of me on purpose.”
“Busted,” Titus grinned. “I like it when you’re flustered. It’s cute.”
“Cute. I’m not an itsus.”
“You think itsus are cute?” He laughed. “Would you like one? Although I’m not sure how Aodhan would feel about having a pet…”
“People buy them to keep their gardens free from pests,” Calix drawled. “If you’re saying it’ll help get rid of Aodhan—”
“I’m saying we might come home one day to find it dissected and carefully laid out on the kitchen table,” Titus corrected bluntly, and when Cal gasped, shrugged. “I call him little killer for a reason. Are we still playing dumb, Detective? You aren’t exactly innocent yourself, though, are you, Azi.”
“What’s that?” Was he switching it up because Calix had told him not to call him Be’urn?
“Dear one in my language, since you weren’t fond of Vital terms. Is it better?”
“No.” Cal made himself approach the desk, the smell of the food enough to spur him closer despite the potential threat. “And for the record, I’ve never killed anyone outside of the line of duty.”
“But you have killed before.” Titus pulled the chair out for him, motioning with his chin for him to sit.
It wasn’t a question, but Calix answered anyway. He took the seat too, because at this point, what the hell. “I have.”
“How many?”
“What?” The rich smell of sauce and melted cheese almost had him groaning, and he picked up a slice.
“How many bodies have you helped put in the ground, little monster?”
“Don’t know, I stopped counting after the first three.” He did groan after the first bite, then practically scarfed half the slice in under sixty seconds. When a hand landed on the nape of his neck, he didn’t bother shaking it off, just kept eating.
“That’s how far your guilt went? Just three?”