Tuesday was another uneventful work day for Mako. Nothing but sitting in his cubicle, staring at a computer screen, and typing away at his keyboard until his fingers went numb. That was his job he signed up for and he did it well. He stretched his arms over his head and rolled his neck a few times, causing bones to pop per usual with the gesture. God, he was tired. Couldn't wait to get off of work and get home. His eyes focused on the window to his right, the only opening to the outside world. Night began to take its hold onto the city, transforming it into a world of sin Mako somehow grew attached to. It wasn't like the farmhouse back home but the city had its charm. And good bars. Mostly the bars kept him around.

Mako looked over at the clock on his desk, though his computer told the time digitally. He liked his piggy clock better. It had its charm too. 7:52 P.M, the clock hands on the body of the pig pointed to. Eight minutes before he was able to clock out for the night and head home. Dinner came to mind as he watched the seconds tick forward at a snail's pace. Jamison better not try to feed him his cooked tail again or he was going to hang him off the balcony by his legs.

"Ready to get the hell outta here, Big Mac?" It was Vega again, hanging over the cubicle partition as always.

"How many nicknames do you have for me anyway?" Mako had to ask. She never called him by his real name unless she was being completely serious.

"About…" Her grey eyes rolled around in thought for a moment, then she focused back on Mako. "Ten, think and still growin'. Wanna go out for drinks tonight? I'm payin'."

Mako wasn't the type of guy to turn down a free drink. "Alright. But only one round this time, okay?"

Vega shrugged with a chuckle. "I can't make any promises that only one round will happen."

With their jackets and briefcases in tow, the two coworkers stepped out of the elevator and into the quiet lobby of the building.

"You know you could hang out with any other guy," Mako commeted to break the silence between them. "Why do you want to hang out with me?"

"Because I enjoy your company," the woman replied quickly. "Plus you're like the only guy who hasn't tried to get into my pants. You're a good friend."

Mako snorted. "Touching."

Vega halted in her tracks which caught Mako's attention in an instant. She looked far ahead of her. "Why's that guys staring at us? You know him, Mako?" She pointed her finger at a person seated in the waiting area.

Mako followed the woman's finger and a frown appeared on his face who he realized who it was. It was Jamison, sitting with his legs folded on the chair's cushion and arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't just staring at them, he was glaring as if he could conjure daggers and send them in their direction. The hostility around Jamison was heavy like molasses and it filled the large room the longer his eyes were locked on the two. Mako groaned and dragged his hand down his face. Since Vega had saw Jamison already, might as well introduce her to him.

"I'm Jamison Rutledge!" Jamison announced with a fake smile on his face. So fake that Mako expected his face to crack into pieces. "I'm Mister Rutledge's new live-in servant! New violent live-in servant!"

"He's from abroad, studying to be a maid." Mako lied.

Vega nodded, taking his lie without question. "Hey, the name's Vega Nellis. I work with Mako in accounting." She held her open hand out to the taller man. "It's nice to meet you, Jamison."

Jamison glanced at her hand then back at her face. "Charmed!" he said with another forced smile.

After some awkward introductions, the group left the office building into the dark night of the city. Streetlights and neon lights of passing stores illuminated their path as they travelled down the sidewalk. Jamison stood between this Vega lady and Mister Rutledge while they walked. Like he was going to let this harlot seduce his Mister Rutledge. She didn't need to get close to what was his treasure. He observed Vega's body from the corner of his right eye. Large tits, flashy cleavage, a skirt that barely came up to her knees; Jamison snorted and held his head upwards. What a slut. Did she have no shame about what she looked like in public? She was no different from the human women back in his home world. Jamison would not allow this to happen. Over his dead body.

The three arrived at a small bar on the intersection of two busy streets. The interior of the bar was small just as it was on the outside. Many red leather booths occupied the right side while bar stools and the bar itself was on the left. Vega picked the booth farthest from the entrance and they took their seats. Jamison made sure Vega sat opposite of Mister Rutledge while he sat closest to Mister Rutledge on the inside of the booth.

"I think we should start off the night with some shots," Vega declared. "Ready for a challenge, old man?"

"We're the same age, Vega." Mister Rutledge replied. "I should call you old woman then."

The woman turned her attention to Jamison. "Hey Jamison, wanna join us on our fight against sobriety?" she asked.

"Nah," was Jamison's answer. "You two have yer fun." No one around him knew how difficult it was to say that statement. As if he wanted her to enjoy herself.

Vega shrugged her shoulders, "Suit yourself," and she grinned. "More for us, I guess. Waiter! Bring some shots over here, will ya?!"

When the waiter came over to their booth, Jamison ordered a non-alcoholic boba tea for himself. He sipped quietly on his orange drink, rolling the balls of tapioca on his tongue as he watched the two down their shots. One round of shots suddenly turned to four before they ordered their drinks. Jamison learned that Mister Rutledge liked his dark liquors as the large man chugged half a mug of his whiskey cocktail.

Mister Rutledge let out a large sigh when he pulled the mug away from his lips. "I love a good drink after work!" he shouted. "Really hits the spot!"

The unfamiliar pink blush across Mister Rutledge's cheeks and his loud, soul shaking laughter had Jamison smiling at the sight. Seeing him unwind like that made him appear much more attractive than ever before. He was the cutest. Jamison chewed on the tapioca balls as his eyes rested on Vega, who slurped down her drink. How could he get rid of this woman? An idea came to mind and a coy smile appeared on his face. He'll just show her how close he and Mister Rutledge were! That would show her.

"I'm serious, Mako." Vega said. "We're pretty much second class employees to this company. What we do is practically slave labor. If it wasn't for us, investors would see the true faults in the company's structure."

"But that's what we're there for," Mister Rutledge retorted. "To make sure that doesn't happen. Our ability in accounting theory is what keeps this company afloat. The Viskhar Corporation values us greatly for it."

Vega scoffed, waving her hand in the air. "That may be so but I don't see the higher-ups fudging financial statements on a regular 'cause they can't stop wirin' money to their personal bank accounts. The whole company is going to the shitter."

Jamison's head spun as he attempted to grasp their conversation. What were they talking about? Please speak in words he understood, he pled from the safety of his mind.

A feminine giggle brought him away from his thoughts. It was Vega and Jamison scowled hard. "Sorry Jamison," she apologized "We're not really talking about anything you can join in to, are we?"

"It's fine!" Jamison snapped. "It's just yer conversation is too stupid that I didn't feel like joinin' it!"

"Okay…?" the woman said, taking another sip of her drink."

"We should be talkin' 'bout war and how a small apocalypse would wipe out everything instead! But I had enough of this shit and I'm tired of bein' nice!" Fire ignited in Jamison's eyes. Fangs and claws exploded from his mouths and hands on command. He shot up from his seat and roared, "I'll melt yer soul to yer blackened bones!"

The mug beside him slammed down hard on the table and Jamison stopped in his tracks, slinking away as he returned to normal. "Mister Rutledge?" Fear made his blood run cold.

"Jam-mie-ssonnnn…." His name slurred out the large man's mouth. "What did I say…" His head fell to the side. Those red eyes of his glared hard at Jamison with drunken anger. "Good maids and servants don't kill people!"

Jamison flinched at his words, but it was the truth. He did say that same exact sentence to him earlier before. How could he forget so quickly?

"And what's with your outfit, huh?" Mister Rutledge began to rant. "It looks like you're going to some cheap ass convention! Don't you give a damn what you look like to other people? Have some damn self-respect!"

"You're right, big guy!" Vega shouted. She slammed her fist down on the table, causing the glasses to clatter and shake. "He looks like he's gonna lose a cosplay contest! And what's with those ears? It clashes too much with your outfit!"

"I don't know!" Jamison shouted back. "Rats have ears like mine! What do ya want me to say, woman?!"

Mister Rutledge grabbed Jamison by his bowtie and pulled him in close so that their faces were touching. "Take it off." He mumbled.

"W-what?" He wasn't sure he heard correctly.

"I said: Take! It! Off!" Before Jamison knew, Mister Rutledge grasped the front of his shirt and tore it open with ease. Buttons flew all over the places, bouncing off the walls and clattering to a stop against the table. Jamison's chest was exposed to the chilled barroom air.

"Whoo!" Vega cheered. She leaned back in her booth and raised her mug high. "Now we're getting somewhere! Shake that ass, cosplay boy! Let see what you're made of!"

Jamison couldn't process what Vega said to him and not a second later, Mister Rutledge was on his case again.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Mister Rutledge's voice filled the entire bar. It caused the other bar patrons to look in their direction. "Where's your shame, servant?! Cosplay me crazy!" He tugged repeatedly on Jamison's pants. "Give me more! What about being a good servant, huh?! And a good butler too!"

Stripping for Mister Rutledge would be sexy if Jamison wasn't scared out of his wits. The man was frightening when he was drunk, scarier that any human he had met before. Jamison had attempted to please his drunken master's over-the-top demands. No matter how crazy they sounded to him. What a world this was. The Great God of Mayhem: Jamison, trembling at the mercy of a human? People back home would never believe it.

All of Mister Rutledge's ranting and raving combined with Vega's yelling brought the manager of the establishment out of hiding. Moments later, three were shoved out of the bar and onto the unforgiving streets.

"Sorry about all that, Jamison." Vega apologized as the three journeyed down the sidewalk again. "I get a little…uppity with cosplay, especially when it comes to everything maid and butler. It's great that I have someone to talk to about my passion."

"Yeah, I get it," Jamison replied, holding up the blackened out Mister Rutledge by leaning the larger man's body against his. "If we're gonna be sharin' our secrets with each other, I bet ya wouldn't mind seein' a lil' surprise…" An orange glow was casted upon Jamison's body and he grew, returning to his giant rat form. Mister Rutledge rested snug and comfortably on his back on an area that wasn't set aflame, snoring softly. Jamison craned his neck back to look down at the tiny human beside him.

Vega stared up at him with her mouth slightly agape before she chuckled and scratched her head. "Looks like I drank too much," the woman concluded. "You really like Mako, don't you? He musta done something big to get someone like you to be all over him."

"Yea," the rat god answered, turning his head away from her. He casted a perception spell across the entirety of his body and disappeared out of the sight of human eyes. "Just so ya know, I hate yer damn guts. Ya dipstick." His thunderous footsteps shook the ground and his tail swayed from side to side, causing gusts of wind to hit Vega hard. As he stomped away, Jamison did not look back to see the woman's reaction to his words. He had seen enough of her to last him several lifetimes.