“Yeah, sure, I seen him. Last time he was here, he was playing grab ass with some other fella, sorry to tell it, stranger. Odd kinda man, real shifty. Like, couldn’t look at you ’less it was sideways. The other guy, not your little strawberry tart. All inked up the way Outliers are sometimes. Big ’un too. Not near as big as you though. But I ain’t never come across none as big as you.”
Orin debated pulling up a stool of his own to watch as Ari folded his hands at his waist, acting for all the world as if he was preparing to enter a spirited scholarly discussion. He winced as Ari’s posture grew so erect he could’ve been a marble column formed entirely of disapproval and affront.
“That ‘tart’ you are referring to is my brother, Theo. And he was not playing grab anything. He was being held against his will. By that man.”
Amos’ eyes widened incredulously, rolling over Ari from head to toe with a blatant disregard for his deepening scowl. “Well, I’ll be damned. Spitting image, ain’t you? Think he was in over his head with that odd fella? That’s a shame. Though, truth to tell, it looked the other way round, to me.”
Ari opened his mouth to unleash what was sure to be a vicious retort, but Orin put pause to that by laying his hand gently on Ari’s arm, giving Amos his attention.
“Reckon so? How do you figure?”
Amos scratched the overgrown patch of gray whiskers on his chin thoughtfully.
“Looked to me like strawberry tart was doing all the talking, leading tall dark and creepy around by the nose. Man was more like a shadow, just looming over his shoulder all night.”
To Orin’s fascination, Ari’s face contorted into a pained expression, delicate fingers lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shook his head with a quiet groan. Orin leaned in, keeping his voice low. “You alright, sweetheart?”
The groan gained volume at the same rate at which it gained consonants and vowels, morphing into a long drawn out “Thhhhheeeeeeoooooooo!”
Ari dropped his hand, clenching it into a fist as he muttered darkly. “Of all the—of course he would— I cannot believe this!”
Orin leaned back, still keeping his voice low. “You, uh, you alright, honey?”
Amos took the opportunity to wander away, drying a glass with a stained rag as he turned his attention to another patron.
Orin steered Ari to a table in the corner, keeping the wall at their backs with a good view of the door. When Ari dropped his head to the table without voicing a single concern for the cleanliness, Orin’s concern immediately doubled. He rubbed Ari’s back soothingly.
“Okay, baby. So we know he was here; that’s good. That’s something to go on. Seems he was doing just fine, too, to hear Amos tell it.”
Ari lifted his head and cuddled back into Orin’s arm, nodding thoughtfully.
“You’re right. Of course, you’re right. This is a good thing. For just a moment, I was afraid— You have been telling me all of this time that he had simply run away, and I never believed it. But no; I know my brother. He left that note. It is clearly an abduction.”
Orin nodded sympathetically, cupping his hand around Ari’s shoulder. A man at the next table turned to them with a snide leer, and Orin offered his best menacing stare, casually exposing his firearm with a shift of his coat. The man hastily found something fascinating at the bottom of his glass.
Ari scrubbed his hands over his face fitfully. “The thing is. My brother. He isn’t— He’s not like me.”
Orin made a vague gesture with the index finger of both hands that he immediately regretted. “You mean, like with men?”
Ari turned to goggle at him, as if Orin had suddenly developed a crisp Britannia accent. Fair enough, after that unfortunate gesture.
He shook his head slowly. “No. Not with. No. If anything, Theo has always been more accepting of that aspect of his nature.”
Orin nodded, rolling his fingers into fists to keep them in check.
Ari continued, “I simply mean that Theo has what our mother always liked to call ‘the gift of gab.’ It would be fair to say Theo couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. But, perhaps— Perhaps his inability to keep quiet has helped him through this ordeal, if what the barkeep was saying is true.”
Orin considered this as he draped his arm over Ari’s slumped shoulders. “Sounds about right. Must have a mighty big brain in his head if he’s anything like you. Using all he’s got as best he’s able.”
Aristotle pulled at the cuff of Orin’s coat, face downcast. “Do you— Do you think that he— After everything he said, about—about grabbing, do you think Theo has been forced to—to trade his virtue for his safety?” He lifted wounded eyes up to Orin.
Orin could say from experience that he would rather have faced the business end of a shotgun. Those baby greens ought to be illegal, glistening up at a man and seeming twice their size all of a sudden. Should think twice before swinging eyes like that around.
Might break something. Like Orin’s stupid heart.
He sighed, tucking Ari’s head into his shoulder and kissing his forehead, inhaling the herbal scent of his pomade. “I hope not, sugar. I surely hope not.”
Orin really didn’t want to tell him what he thought. Knowing what he did about the world of men, it was damn hard to be optimistic about a situation like that. But if Aristotle Campbell was getting beaten down by reality, it wasn’t going to be Orin that dealt the final blow.
Chapter Seventeen
Ari shifted nervously in place on the galley bench as Orin walked into the room, smiling at him. He then noticed what was on the table and his prominent brow furrowed in confusion.
“Those are—” Orin tilted his head closer. “—kid’s books, yeah?”
Ari sat straight-backed in his seat, hands folded over the open pages in front of him, unconsciously mimicking the posture of his favorite tutor.
“They are some of my childhood favorites, yes. I retrieved them from my brother’s collection.”
Orin slid onto the bench opposite him, honey eyes soft on Ari’s face. “Why’re you reading kid’s books? You missing your brother, sweetheart?”
Ari cleared his throat, adjusting the book minutely as if to better align the edges with the tabletop. “I thought that perhaps we—perhaps— We could read them. Together. You and I. These editions were published in Core script. I thought they might be beneficial. For—for you.”
Orin’s bench screeched discordantly as he reared back from peering at the pages. “They’re for me?”
Ari nodded slowly, carefully watching the storm brewing in his partner’s face.
Orin’s mouth worked for a moment before his words gritted out past his clenched teeth.
“You thought you could, what? Play teacher with me? Teach the filthy Verge rat to read? Trying to pretty up some of my rough edges?”
Ari reached across, his fingers barely making contact with the wide back of Orin’s hand before it was wrenched away. He resolutely maintained eye contact despite the daggers being thrown in his direction.
“I thought to propose an exchange of skills, so that the both of us might be better equipped at the end of our association.”