Chapter Sixty-Two: Friends With Benefits

Author's Note: That's right. Ed catches a break in this chapter in the naughtiest way possible XD

Sylvia sat in her office at Lean on Vee's, scribbling in her large, leather-bound book. Updating her financial earnings and expenditures was probably one of her least favorite things to do when it came to owning and managing a club; mostly, because it was boring as hell.

The raucous crowd downstairs seemed to die down as it came closer to closing time. She heard a knock against the doorframe, and she looked up when she saw Jim there.

"Long time, no see," He greeted with a little smile.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." She returned happily. She gestured to the chair that sat in front of her desk: "Have a seat. How've you been?"

"So-so."

Sylvia put her pen down, looking him over. Jim looked just as exhausted as the rest of Gotham, but no more than usual. He sat in the chair, and she noticed how stiff he appeared.

"I heard about Captain Barnes," She acknowledged the elephant in the room.

"By now, the news has spread," Jim accepted, aloof. "It's hard to keep anything away from the media; they normally pounce on any bad PR for the police department the moment they get a whiff."

"Fucking hell. You're starting to sound like Harvey."

"Can't blame me."

"How's Falcone?"

"You heard about that too?"

"Gangster," She chirped, gesturing to herself. "Falcone's baby boy nearly gets charcoaled and the cops really don't expect anyone to catch wind of it? Especially down here in the Underworld."

"You have a point."

"That, I do. How's Mario?"

"Grudgeful."

"His father?"

"Vengeful."

"So, about the same," Sylvia said easily, reaching for the glass of whiskey that had been sitting idle for the past thirty minutes. She took a sip, offering him a taste. He declined.

"Have any suspects?" She asked.

"Well…"

"I did one show at an engagement party. I hope that doesn't condemn me to your interrogative personality."

"It doesn't." Jim excused, sending her a half-smile. "But, as someone who spent a weekend within Falcone's residence, near his family, and is married to his successor, I felt like I wouldn't be doing my due diligence if I didn't make the visit."

"You have a point," Sylvia said slyly; she and her brother exchanged an amused expression at the use of his own words. She took another drink from her glass: "Fire away."

And as expected, Jim started into his questions.

"Do you know anyone that would hurt Mario?"

"Only everyone who has a vendetta against Falcone."

"Carmine says he kept Mario out of the crosshairs."

"Just because you keep your family out of the business doesn't mean you're not an integral part to whatever a maniac has in store for their own vengeful purposes," Sylvia reminded hoarsely. She licked her lips, adding, "Falcone was once the King of Gotham; Mario is his prince. They may not share the family business, but Mario does share his blood."

"Do you know anyone who would have the means of obtaining explosives?"

"I can refer you to someone who's been known for handing out explosives. He does his business down in the Narrows. He has the know-how for the most part." She offered freely.

Jim nodded graciously.

She placed her whiskey on a towel, and coasted her wheeling office chair to the other side of her desk. Silently, she thumbed through a few documents before she ripped a piece of paper from the pile and handed it to Jim, who glanced at it interestedly.

"Do you need this back?" asked Jim.

"No."

"Can I ask why?"

"He's a cunt," Sylvia told him carelessly. "He's a mechanic, allegedly. Works on cars mainly, but he has a profession for selling drugs on the side. Before you go talk to him, go to his house first. I have a spare key" (She gave that to him as well.) "You'll find all the evidence you need to put him away for a very long time, and none of it is inadmissible in court. That information is there for you to use to coerce that information out of him, or to throw the piece of shit into jail as you see fit."

Jim's eyebrows raised up to his hairline.

"Did this guy insult you or something?"

"He sells drugs to kids," Sylvia revealed disgustedly. "Now, I may partner with multiple rackets who sell that shit to other people and to the Narrows, but I'm not a monster. He's a native to Gotham, knows how things are run, and he should know that I don't condone that sort of thing. His girlfriend, Jillian Dane, works as a hostess for a five-star restaurant just on the borders of Gotham, but it's within city limits. If he doesn't talk, she will. She's a flake."

"And you're telling me about her, why?"

"Victor and Alex found reasonable cause that she's involved with it."

"Can I ask how you were tipped off to any of this?"

"Jill came to my club some months ago," She informed. "She was a barmaid for me, only for a couple of days. My gut told me something was wrong; I honestly thought it was because she was too sweet for a place like this. All my tough-skinned Regulars scare her kind away too easily, which leaves job vacancies open for too fucking long so I end up losing customers."

"And you found out she was dirty?"

"Not me. Alex did."

"Alex? You mean Rooster figured it out."

"I know. I was surprised too," Sylvia said whimsically. "The guy has his moments. Who the fuck knew? Anyway, Victor and Alex came back, told me what's up. I figured you'd be by to talk about either Barnes or the Fireworks, so when you did, I thought maybe you could make an arrest on my behalf."

"We're doing favors for each other?"

"We have been since you made our relationship based on quid pro quo."

He didn't even have the energy to dispel that one away, knowing she was correct. Sometimes, they did favors for each other because they were family. Other times, it was a give something for something else. As it was with anything in Gotham.

"Fair enough."

"How's Harvey doing, being in charge and all?"

"He's surviving."

"Drinking from a flask?"

"Isn't he always," Jim joked.

"I'll have to get him a pretty one for Christmas, I guess."

Jim stood and pocketed the torn piece of paper. He stepped and rounded the desk. Sylvia smiled, standing up so they could hug. It was a strong embrace, firm and loving.

"Give my best to the Mayor," Jim said politely.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"I love you, Vee."

"Love you too, Slick."

Jim started out the door, only to nearly bump into Edward Nygma, who held the doorframe steadfast.

"Ed."

"Detective Gordon."

They acknowledged each other in flat tones before Jim glanced at Sylvia warily, then turned to leave. Ed watched him until Jim was out of the door, then he turned to Sylvia, who looked at him readily.

"Hey," She greeted with a grin.

"Hey. Um…" Ed pointed to the door behind him. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure." She entreated, motioning for him to close it.

He did and sat in the seat Jim had preoccupied seconds ago. Sylvia scooted in her chair and sat on the desk in front of him, sensing that Ed preferred a closer encounter.

"What's on your mind, Riddles?"

"Turns out Butch and Tabitha: Not the culprits." Ed began, irked. "Butch's gun was fully loaded. No missing rounds."

Sylvia sympathetically raised her hands to his head, slicking back his hair. The gesture alone was soothing to him.

"So, no other suspects?"

"Clearly not."

"So now what?"

"I don't know." Ed uttered dryly. "I thought for sure…"

"They were good suspects."

Ed smiled. He might've felt patronized if not for the gentle strokes of her hands through his hair, how she took his glasses, folding them on the table so she could massage the area where the frames embedded themselves behind his ears. Then her fingers firmly added pressure to the back of his head; Ed lowered it so she massaged the nape of his neck.

"Come here…" Sylvia coaxed.

He moved closer to her. His head lied affably in her lap, closing his eyes. He didn't think much on it as he wrapped his arms around her, making certain to keep his hands from touching the soft outline of her ass.

"I heard you had a great performance," Ed said conversationally.

"I did."

"Did anyone get hurt?"

"It was a performance, not an excursion."

"One can dream."

Sylvia giggled at his humor. He smiled when she did.

He held her in such a way that she felt his palms finely lay on her backside, his fingers spread. After a moment, they slid down, following what would be her panty lines, to her thighs. He lifted his head only slightly, peering up at her. She looked at him with a knowing smile.

Slowly, he stood. She never once broke eye contact, lowering her hands to hold the edge of the desk.

Ed didn't ask. He simply moved closer to her, and kissed her cheek. His lips lingered, then moved to her mouth. When she didn't oppose, he licked her bottom lip hesitantly; his hands cupped her face between his palms.

First, he watched to see her reaction. But when she ever so slightly parted her lips, he closed his eyes as he deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist as he closed the distance between them, standing between her legs.

His tongue found hers. Again. And again. And again. Ed could think of nothing as he kissed her, and maybe, that's what his goal was all along. For all his meticulous wares, how he'd always be calculating something (sometimes, even in his sleep), it was a moment where he found himself not having to do any work. He simply followed the same instincts that were ingrained in the deep recesses of his mind, the part of him that while he'd been obsessed with Kristen Kringle had also been preoccupied with her.

"Ed, I don't think…" Sylvia began in between kisses.

"Please."

She looked at him, and saw how his eyes beckoned to her. His plea spoken was not chaste; it was almost desperate, spoken shakily but not in a lustful tone but in such a way that wished aloud for refuge.

A sanctuary.

"I want to feel something other than anger," Ed said lowly.

"Is that what you want?" Sylvia asked.

"Yes."

"You want to feel less than that?"

"More than that."

Sylvia nibbled her bottom lip thoughtfully. She wouldn't take advantage of a friend in his vulnerable state, but what he was begging for, that was something she could give. Freely, too. His strong hands that were on the small of her back, pushed her closer to him.

"You're not thinking clearly."

"I know," Ed murmured.

"You don't want to think clearly?"

"No…"

"That's not like you." Sylvia uttered, although despite her attempts to refuse him she couldn't ignore how warm her body felt being so close to him.

Plus, on a side note, the fact that he injured Tabitha in a way that she couldn't made her attraction to him that much stronger. The ties to her self-control were slowly being undone, abandoned. When he kissed her again, Sylvia could feel his lips demanding more from her. She received him, smiling when he did. She slid off the desk, looking up at him.

"Liv—"

"I'm not saying 'no'." Sylvia said earnestly.

"You…" He began, but he was disarmed. "You're not?"

"No. We just can't do it here."

"Oh…Right…"

"Eyes, ears, all of that." Sylvia explained, twisting her hand to indicate the club. She took his hand; he smiled inwardly at her touch. "Come with me."

Oswald was taking a tour of a new museum that had opened up, cutting the ribbon for its brand-new opening, that sort of thing. So, when Sylvia and Ed came back to the mansion, not a lot of people were hanging around; the Kabuki twins had been released for the day, and Gabriel was back home, spending time with his parents.

Once the door to the mansion was closed, Ed took Sylvia's forearm, pulling her to him. Once her back collided with the wall, he attacked her mouth with his own. She received his rough initiative with mild resistance, but the moment she gave into it, he hesitated, the kissing abruptly stopping in its course.

"What's wrong?" Sylvia asked softly.

"It's too much like…"

She touched his lips with two fingers, silencing him. She didn't need him to say it. And Ed looked upon her with admiration for her high sensitivity to a human's emotional intelligence, and how attentive she'd been to his body language to know just what the problem was.

What they were doing felt too much like his time with Isabella.

"Do you still want this?" Sylvia asked.

"I do, but I don't know how to get past the other half."

"I know. It must be hell for you." She empathized.

He uttered delicately, "Quisque suos patimur manis."

Sylvia cocked her head to the side. At her confusion, he smiled. She looked beautiful when she was angry, or happy, or sad, or even puzzled.

"That's Latin." She realized aloud. "What does it mean?"

"'Each of us bears his own Hell'."

"That's Virgil."

"Yes," Ed said, smiling at her.

At the Latin phrase, Sylvia's heart bled for him.

"It's still a Hell you have to face head-on. There's no 'getting past' anything."

"I know that," Ed responded indignantly, although he regretted the icy undertone the moment it escaped him.

She watched him, perhaps awaiting whatever his intentions whether that meant he was staying or leaving.

He looked down, between their bodies, noticing what very little distance was left. His eyes roamed from her lips, to her neck, to the rest of her body and his hand reached up, slowly rounding his fingers over her clothed breast.

The lightest touch he administered made her breath hitch in her throat.

"I also know I want you." He said strongly.

He kissed her again, with the same ferocity as he had before, his hand squeezing her breast, then moving up to her throat to grip that as well. Sylvia held his hand that now closed around her throat, but didn't try to pull him off. He kissed her hard; she kissed him harder, defying him. Ed pressed her harder against the wall; she sensed his more dominant side coming to play, so her aggression subsided.

But just like before, Ed seemed hesitant. The kiss broke naturally, but he let out a frustrated groan.

"What is it?"

"This feels wrong." He muttered. "But…not for the reason it should."

Sylvia smiled: "I think I know what it is."

"What?"

"Come." She tugged on his tie and he stepped to the side so she bounced herself off the wall.

Her confidence, her self-assurance…it was intoxicating. When she had such a way about her, it was easy for Ed to feel the same way. As she asked, Ed followed her upstairs. They were in his bedroom and Sylvia closed the door.

"Sit." She said firmly.

Ed's ears perked at her authoritative tone; it was not often that he was being ordered around. Not since he had stopped working at the GCPD. Normally, he'd feel enraged, being spoken to like this. But hearing it come out of Sylvia, it was titillating.

He sat down on the edge of his own mattress, watching her approach him.

"You miss her," Sylvia told him. "You miss her enough that kissing me doesn't take away the pain."

"Liv…"

"So, my suggestion is that we do everything that you didn't—or wouldn't—do with her."

Her idea made his stomach lurch forward in a pleasurable discomfort. And the implication made his cock tingle with a similar sensation. She stepped forward, and—as a point—climbed on him so he was gingerly coaxed to lie on his back. Her hair fell over her shoulders, falling forward.

Ed slowly rubbed his hands over her shoulders, down her back, and grabbed her ass. When he did, Sylvia reached behind and shoved his hands away, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. Her aggressive response disarmed him, but Ed saw that mischievous gleam in her eyes, the way her smile taunted him.

"Either you take what you want," Sylvia told him. "Or I will. And trust me, Pet." (Ed inhaled sharply at her term of endearment.) "I will not be so gentle."

She licked his chin and gave him a teasing nip before he lunged forward, tossing Sylvia onto her back. Ed kissed her hard, his hand sliding under her shirt to touch her exposed flesh that her bra didn't cover. Her legs were wriggling; Ed anchored one of them, pressing his knee in between her legs then upwards; he heard her stuttered moan.

"Is this the sort of thing Oswald gets to enjoy?" Ed uttered softly in her ear; a huge contrast compared to his past few fervent mannerisms.

Sylvia laughed darkly, "So you are enjoying this."

"Quite," Ed admitted, the word evolved into a groan when he felt her hands in his hair, grabbing a handful and pulling.

"I'm not going to be taken down that easily."

She met his eyes, and they darkened with something more than just a longing. Suddenly, his kisses became rougher, and his hands groped every part of her that he'd been waiting to feel, to touch. After Sylvia had made a few attempts of wrestling out from beneath his weight, Ed let out a mock sigh of exasperation.

"You really want to do everything that I wouldn't have done with her?" He challenged. "Are you prepared to play that dangerous game?"

"Try me." Sylvia answered breathlessly, smirking when he lowered his mouth to her neck and nipped at her collar bone.

"I want…" He began, but perhaps the idea that had come to him was a little more than what he felt Sylvia could handle.

However, she sat up; he allowed her to. When she did, Sylvia put her hand down along the waistband of his emerald green suit, following the stitching until she felt an elongated extension of himself. When she did, she moved closer to him, straddling his lap. Her slow, steady grind of her black cotton panties over his hard-on.

"What do you want to do to me?" She coaxed.

"…I…" The words caught in his throat.

Already, he could sense the difference between Sylvia and Isabella. Sylvia liked to talk more. And it made Ed both unsettled but equally just as excited.

"Do you want to strip my clothes off," She encouraged, smirking when Ed's hips lifted to meet her gyration. "Maybe put me on my back…Or…"

"Tie you to my bed." Ed groaned, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the jolt of pleasure to his cock when he thought of it.

"Oh yeah?" Sylvia whispered. "What if I tried to get away?"

"I'll hold you down."

"I'd like to see you try."

She could talk. Ed wasn't surprised to hear it. But the weight of her words, how she said them were heavily laced with a devious undertone that could drive a man crazy. And it was clear she was having fun talking to him this way. So dirty.

Ed stifled a painful moan when she climbed off his lap.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Bringing your fantasy into a reality. Stay here." She said with an impish grin.

She left the room only for a moment, presumably going back to her and Oswald's master bedroom. When she returned, she held four lavish, silk sashes; all four were black with a satin finish, sturdy enough that they wouldn't rip as she demonstrated it. And with the strength of five men, the ropes did not even tear, even though they stretched.

Ed reclined back onto the bed, balanced by his elbows as he watched her. He found her teasing affect to be mildly annoying, only because it stroked his cock in a way that no hand or tongue could. He sat up, then stood, taking the sashes away from her with the rigidity of an irritated individual.

"What—"

"Get on the bed, Sylvia." He said sternly.

She smirked at his sudden command, but played to it.

"Get undressed."

She did as she was told. While she disposed of her shirt and skirt, then her bra and panties, throwing them over the side of the bed, Ed navigated from one side of the bed post to the other three, tying the sashes around each one.

"I have a hard time believing you never did this with Isabella."

She watched him undo his tie, the buttons of his shirt, rolling his shoulders back. He threw his matching emerald green coat over the dresser, pulling his vest off over his head, then sliding the buttoned-down shirt off one arm then the other. He placed all of these on the dresser with his coat.

"What I had with her was something special," said Ed, as though his voice was almost detached. "I was afraid to ruin it, afraid that I'd hurt her."

He unbuckled his belt, zipping down his pants, and those, along with his boxers, came down in one go. Then he removed his socks and shoes. Sylvia glanced at his cock, smirking when he was hard as a post.

"And what am I?" Sylvia asked.

Ed looked her over from her perky breasts and all of her soft curves.

"You?" He started on his knees, then made his way towards her, and she watched him with predatory eyes up until he towered over her, forcing her to lie on her back. "You're a lark. And I aim to make it my sole ambition to make you sing. Whether that's in pleasure…" He kissed her neck. "Or in pain."

Her body shuddered at the anticipation of either result.

"I'm going to tie you to my bed. If you fight me, I will punish you for that."

"Maybe I'd like to see what your version of punishment really is."

"I won't discourage, but just so you are aware…" Ed lowered his hand between her naked thighs, the tip of his middle and ring fingers slowly encircled her clit; the lower half of her body nearly flinched at his sudden contact. "Oswald and I have had an in-depth discussion about your little weaknesses. All of them."

He curled his fingers so the pads of his fingertips rotated and rubbed just below her clit. The feel of it drew an involuntary moan from her.

"You're bluffing," Sylvia managed weakly.

Ed smiled at her handsomely, rubbing the bundle of nerves between two of his fingers.

"For once, I am. But I'm a quick learner. And if you think I won't be able to figure it out—"

Sylvia tilted her head up and quickly reached up to grab his neck, pulling him down to her. His mouth shoved against hers so hard their teeth clicked; he moaned into her mouth, feeling an overpowering need to bend to her will and yet maintain his control over her.

What little control she permitted him to have.

He pulled away from her long enough to catch his breath, to find his mind again. When he looked down at her, Ed noticed how flushed her skin was, particularly around her cheeks, neck, chest, even her thighs.

Lust. Desire.

A feverish hunger.

He couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction about that.

Not a little. A lot of it. He could make her just as hungry for him as he was for her. Her own body validated that.

Before she could pawn another distraction, Ed grabbed her wrist, tying it to the bed post. He did the same thing with the other hand, as well as her ankles. She tested the bonds, licking her upper lip with a taunt.

Once he finished sashing her ankle, he glanced at her. Is this okay? His expression read. When Ed moved between her legs with his knees against her thighs, Sylvia laid her head back onto her pillow, but her eyes still watched him.

"I have the worst urge to blindfold you." Ed confessed.

"And leave me completely defenseless?" She hinted. She swirled her hips, reacting to the thought.

"But I also want you to watch."

"Watch what?"

He slinked down so he lied on his stomach. Ed pressed his palms against her thighs, his thumbs massaging the muscles closest to her pussy.

"Oh…" Sylvia whispered, realizing what he meant.

She felt his tongue before she saw it. Cold compared to her wet heat. The tip of his tongue tickled her clit, and then slid up and down between the petals of Sylvia's sex.

"Oh my god…" She exhaled. He groaned in content, tasting her sweet honey. Ed watched her mouth part open, her eyes close, and he was pleased to hear how she didn't hold back her moans.

First, he was gentle.

But then she was begging him for more.

So, Ed lashed her clit with his tongue, sliding two fingers inside her pussy, feeling the walls inside contract to keep him there.

"There…! Yes—mmm-mmm!"

Sylvia's thighs quivered and shook, daring to close but the sashes tied to the bedpost kept them apart.

His moans vibrated along her clit, and Sylvia whimpered in need.

"Ohh, that's a sound I've never heard." Ed drawled. He used an index finger to quickly rub her clit, hearing her whimpers come out more frequently. "You don't have a lot self-control, do you, Princess?"

Sylvia bit her lip shamelessly, hearing his pet name. It came out so naturally, too.

Her wrists moved, trying to get out of them.

Ed watched her, wanting to keep her there. But also, to see what she was ready to do to earn what she wanted. He shuffled up to the bed posts, untying Sylvia's hands. She sat up so quickly, Ed nearly was thrown off his guard, standing on his knees over her. She reached up, bringing him down to her, their kisses were rough and ravaging.

"Fuck me, Ed." She pleaded. "Fuck me!"

"Convince me."

"…What?"

Ed grinned at her startling response: "You heard what I said."

"Untie me."

"No."

"I'll convince you, but first, you have to untie my ankles."

"Why?" Ed questioned, raising his chin and looking down at her with suspicion.

"Because from this angle, I can't suck you off and if that is something you'd like, I'll need to lay down on my stomach." Sylvia explained furtively.

There she was, being blunt, and causing the world around her to stammer and stare. Ed couldn't really disguise how turned on he was by her flagrant phrasing, but goddamn, he was living for it. He held her jaw in his hand.

"Don't. Move."

"I won't." She promised.

He slid off the bed, untying her ankles from each bed post. When he was back on the comforter, Sylvia encouraged him to lay down, her hands on his chest; he felt her nails lightly rake down to his stomach. The sensation gave him a feeling of both danger and revitalization. As she lied down, one hand held his thigh while the other held his cock.

He groaned at the feel of her fingers wrapping around his shaft; he watched her mouth close over the tip of his cock, then her tongue licked the underside of the cockhead. Already, he could feel himself coming undone. As he did with her, Sylvia moaned quietly, and the hums of her sounds vibrated around him.

Ed tilted his head back against his pillow, his back arching when she took all of his cock into her mouth. Her tongue massaging while her hand crept below to massage his balls.

"Fuck…oh, hell…" Ed sighed, his moans restrained.

He reached down to grab her hair, holding a handful. When he had enough leverage, Ed forced her to swallow all of him, to the base. Then he face-fucked her. He could feel her fingernails digging into his thighs, the drool dribbling from her chin.

"That's it, Princess," Ed moaned loudly. "That's it…Oh, fuck, you're good at this."

He could feel himself getting close, but he wasn't ready to come just yet. He pulled her off him, looking at her with a grin, although he was breathing heavily and a flush of color covered his skin as well.

With the same grip on her hair, Ed dragged Sylvia to him, crashing his mouth on hers. She received him eagerly, although she wiped her chin with the back of her hand. She giggled deviously when he pushed her onto her back; her legs wrapped around his waist.

He sank into her. And when he did, she let out a pleasurable keen that made his entire body shudder with a resounding power. With the way he felt, he could lay an entire army to slaughter.

No wonder Oswald is always in a good mood after, thought Ed.

He held her down, wrapping his hand around her throat. He pumped into her, hearing her moans of pleasure and pain contort into one single syllable: and it was a positive one.

He fucked her until his body felt a fatigue, fucking her until he couldn't even remember his own name or where he was when the orgasm hit him hard. Hearing her scream his name, and the way her body writhed against him, her back arching in euphoria.

He pulled out, coming on her pussy. He collapsed onto his back.

Once the orgasm had lifted, and he could breathe easier, Ed shifted from his back and sat up, noticing Sylvia was gone but she'd only just returned, wearing a baby blue robe, covering her nudity.

"You fell asleep," Sylvia said softly, handing him a glass with two-fingers lengths of whiskey. She held one for herself.

He whispered his thanks.

"How do you feel?" She asked.

"Like crap," Ed confessed. He smiled a little after, adding, "But I do feel a little better."

"That's all that matters."

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"Like I humped a log," Sylvia answered. "And that log humped me back."

Ed felt himself glow at her word of flattery.

"What do we tell Oswald?" He asked, already worrying.

"Nothing to tell," Sylvia returned. "He knows already."

"You told him?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And?"

Sylvia shrugged, saying, "He's pretty comfortable with it."

"Interesting."

"Not really. Since the ménage a trois, he's been pretty lax where it concerns you and me."

"And what are we?" Ed asked.

"Whatever we are."

"That's not a satisfying answer."

"Well, it's the only answer I have. Friends who occasionally kiss. Friends who love each other but don't love each other at the same time? Friends with benefits?" Sylvia suggested. "I'm sorry I can't find a more satisfying answer, but whatever it is, I like it."

Ed smiled but he did so sincerely: "I like it too."

She kissed his forehead: "'Princess' was a good touch."

"I didn't insult you, did I?"

"You could call me a 'whore' and I'd still be just as excited. Honestly, I'd prefer it if you did. But 'Princess' is nice as well." Sylvia said smoothly.

"You're a very interesting woman."

"Tomorrow's a new day, Riddles. Good night."

"Good Night, Liv."

She waved at him, walking out of his room. It had been a good break from his grief, but for that amount of time, it had been a relief. Even if it had been only temporary.