Planning Meeting

Wherein Sylf, Tomlyn, and Ephraim make a terrible plan, but revel in their friendship, and the potential of more, instead.

Timeline: Rebellion

"Okay, okay, I got it." Tommy said, hands raised as if silencing a crowd. His brandy sloshed a bit in his hand but it didn't seem to slow him down as he pointed at the map of the garrison spread before them on the table. "We use E. as a distraction and I charm the guards so Sylf can slip inside. Then, I charm the guards and also slip inside. Then,—

"That doesn't make sense," Sylf protested. She took a sip of her wine and set her near empty goblet on the table. "What's the point of using Ephraim as a distraction if you're just going to distract the guards anyway?"

"Because then he's part of the plan," Tommy explained, as if it was easy to see.

"I am a Prince," Ephraim protested, chin raised. "I am not a mere distraction."

Tommy sipped his glass but Ephraim swore he heard him murmur, "You are to some of us."

"Let's try this again," Sylf said. She downed the rest of her wine, her third glass Ephraim thought, and placed her finger on the map. "Tomlyn enters through the portcullis gate, pretending to be part of a dance troupe. Then,—"

"Where do we get the dance troupe?" Ephraim asked.

Sylf sighed, exasperated. "We'll make one up, or find one, or pay them off. It's inconsequential."

"E. has a point, it seems veeeery consequential."

"Tomlyn, you had your turn. And your plan was terrible."

"How is this one any better?"

"You're part of a dance troupe. You get to dance."

"Do I get to dance with you?"

"No."

"Then this is a terrible plan."

Ephraim rocked on his feet as he finished his wine. They needed to get into the garrison in order to find information on Denalia's troops and insight into the Silver Thread, but it seemed like they had been at this table in Sylf's room for hours.

"Anyway," Sylf growled, ignoring Tommy's grumblings. She straightened herself and said, "As I was saying, Tomlyn in the dance troupe. Then, I, hiding in the wagon that Tomlyn ensures gets through the gate, will slip out at the opportune moment."

"Where do I come in?" Ephraim asked.

She gave him a glare. "I'm not done yet. Now, once inside, Tomlyn does what he does best—"

"Making a killer distraction," Tomlyn grinned.

"And then I sneak into the garrison, rob the treasury, and we're out before anyone notices!" Sylf proclaimed proudly, thumping her fist on the table.

"I thought we were stealing military plans. And I still don't have a role!" Ephraim said, frowning.

Sylf whirled on him, pointing a finger at him accusingly. "Then, when I return victorious, you give me back the Stars of the Isle as a reward, never mind the fact that I am their rightful owner to begin with!"

"Not this again," Ephraim groaned. "Sylf, we've been over this!"

"I found them, they belong to me!"

"You found them in a royal castle!"

"A castle that no one was inhabiting!" Sylf scowled. "No one had been there for several decades, at least!

"Those pearls were considered a lost royal family heirloom!"

"And?" Sylf asked, crossing her arms and jutting her hip to the side. She gave him a hard glare. "I don't see the problem here except that you confiscated my pearls from me!"

Ephraim turned to his friend pleadingly. "Tommy, help me out here!"

"Nope. Taking her pearls was low," Tommy shrugged.

Ephraim was so shocked he took a step back and clutched his chest. "Tommy! How could you!? You're supposed to help me!"

"Hey, Sylf and I, there's honor amongst us thieves," Tommy said. Sylf gave Ephraim her most "damn straight" look possible.

Ephraim sighed and tried again. "Sylf, I could have let you keep them, but you nearly started a diplomatic incident!"

"I was meant to wear them!" she snorted. "I looked fabulous in those pearls."

"Like a goddess," Tommy added.

She did look like a goddess that night, as though she were the night sky itself. The fabric of her flowing jumper was dark and glittering, and the pearl combs placed perfectly along the curves of her twisted hair stuck out like stars amongst a night sky. She wore the matching circlet as though it were her crown, the pearls shining like a constellation against her purple skin.

Ephraim danced with her twice that night and kissed her for as long as he could when they were able to steal away. It was a magical night where he was riding the high of his birthday and drunk on Sylf's ethereal beauty. That is, until the Duchess recognized the pearl pieces and then the whole magic of the evening was positively ruined.

Ephraim squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sylf, that was three months ago. I'm not having this argument again."

"Fine!" She snapped. "If we're going to keep at this, I'm going to change into something more comfortable. It's late."

With that, she turned on her heel and marched to the large partition in the back of the room. Sylf's quarters had fewer rooms than normal, as she wanted sightlines into as much of her space as possible. Her office and library were on one end of the room, and her bed and dressers on the other, separated by the partition.

Tommy refilled Sylf's wine goblet and shook his head at Ephraim. With his brandy glass in hand, he lazily plopped down into the corner of the couch, one arm resting along the ridge of the furniture. "Bad move, E."

"You should have backed me up!" Ephraim hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "You know I wanted to let her keep them."

"Yeah, but you didn't," Tommy replied, his voice low.

"Sylf's social status is too low," Ephraim whispered, frustrated. "If she bothered to try and make favorable personal connections at court, she might have had enough good will to make the gift excusable, but she's insufferable to everyone!"

At that Tommy laughed. "Yeah, but that's why you like her."

"What do you like about me?" Sylf called.

"Your ass in that red nightgown," Tommy called back. Ephraim's jaw dropped as Tommy winked at him. It was almost as if Tommy wanted to torture Ephraim by setting off his imagination.

"It does look good in that nightie, doesn't it?" Sylf called back. Ephraim buried his burning face in his hands and Tommy laughed. This was too much!

But, thankfully, Sylf emerged in a long, silk black robe and not the red nightgown. With hardly a glance at Tommy, she took her wine goblet from him and sat down, nestling herself against his side. Her head titled back, resting on his arm, and she raised her goblet to her lips. The sight of the black diamond ring on her hand sent a pang of jealousy through Ephraim.

Sylf and Tommy were so…effortless. They fit together like the last two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle—obvious, easy, perfection.

He thought that maybe he should leave, but then Sylf caught his eye and patted the spot next to her. He refilled his wine goblet and hesitantly sat next to her. He wasn't sure how to sit without intruding on them, but then she was tugging on his shirt, pulling him closer to her.

Eventually, he was leaning against her, his head was resting just under her shoulder with her arm tucked behind his head. Her sturdy frame felt warm through the thin silk of her gown, and he sighed and closed his eyes as her fingers started to run through his hair.

"Your plan is still shit though, Sylf. I mean, I don't get to dance with you at all," Tommy complained.

She sighed, annoyed, and Ephraim clearly envisioned her trademark eye roll. "Yes, that's why it's perfect."

"Periti's balls," Tommy snorted. "How many years of dancing together will it take for you to admit you like dancing with me?"

"I have nothing to admit because I don't like dancing," she responded with all the haughty indignation of a noblewoman.

Ephraim tilted his head up to glance at her. "I liked dancing with you at my birthday ball."

"Yeah, she liked it too judging by the fuck me eyes she was—OW!" Ephraim sat up, his cheeks heating, as Sylf's sudden movement of her elbow into Tommy's ribcage pushed him out of his position. Sylf gave him a hard glare and Tommy mumbled something in Undercommon as Sylf set herself back into the couch. Ephraim resumed his position as well, and, despite the awkward moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence.

Then, a thought struck Ephraim. "Tommy, can I ask you about Periti?"

There was a pause, but Tommy responded, "Sure. What about?"

"Well, you don't seem religious, but you do pray to her, don't you?"

Tommy hummed for a moment, thinking. "Well, actually, I almost joined the Church."

"What?" Sylf asked, the same time Ephraim responded, "Really?"

Tommy blew out a breath. "It's not that big a deal."

"Of course, it is! Why didn't you?" Ephraim asked.

Tommy ran his hand through his hair. "Well, alright. I guess it doesn't hurt to share." He took a swig of his bandy before he began.

"When I left home I was pretty young, somewhere around 120. My family growing up was…intense. High expectations, strict rules, you get the idea. My birth mother, our family matriarch, was never happy with me, and my other mother basically ignored me. My dad was never around. I was close with my sister, Adeana, for a while but—" Tommy paused, pressing his lips together tightly.

Then, he shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Point is, after my Grandmother died, I realized there wasn't anything I cared about in the Underdark anymore. So, I set out for the surface."

"But I was really young and didn't know anything about the surface. Everything was so new and, well, it kinda freaked me out. Eventually I came upon this small town and this older human woman, Elanor, took me in. She was the Head Priestess at this really rundown, backwater church. The floors were cracked, the pews were rotten, the roof leaked, but that fire burned bright no matter what."

Ephraim shifted his head slightly so he could see Tommy better. The drow took a long sip of his brandy before continuing. "Elanor taught me about how surface dwellers lived, and, of course, about Periti. I didn't care that much about the religious message at first, but over time…I don't know. I just liked Her story, I guess.

"Anyway, when I got a bit more comfortable with the surface, I started going into a slightly larger town a day's ride away. That's where I learned how to steal. Growing up, I had always been a good fibber, and stealing just felt like lying but with my hands instead of my tongue. Then, I learned how to count and cheat at cards. Before long, I was stealing enough money that I could buy food for the two of us."

He paused, frowning. "I guess Periti wouldn't like my stealing, but I always figured that Elanor was taking care of me and so I had to take care of her too. I stayed there for two decades until she passed away. By that point, she explained what it was like in the church and promised that the next time the head church visited, that I could join. Well, they came when I sent word that she passed and, to be frank, they were grade A assholes."

"Naturally," Sylf snorted.

"Oh, what happened?" Ephraim asked.

Tommy finished off his brandy and sighed. "They took one look at the church, the town, and decided it wasn't making enough money to keep. The minute they put out the great flame, I knew that I could never join them. Do you know how much time and effort we put in to keeping the great flame lit? In rain, and snow, and wind with that damn leaky roof? How many hours I spent finding and chopping wood to feed the flame?" He shook his head. "It was an insult to Elanor, to see her little home destroyed because of money. Periti doesn't care about money!"

Ephraim was surprised. Tommy genuinely seemed angry. As if sensing the same thing, Sylf placed her hand on his arm. Tommy sighed placed a hand over hers, taking a moment to compose himself.

He sighed heavily. "Anyway, that's my story. I need another drink." Tommy unceremoniously got up and walked across the room to the decanter.

Ephraim felt the slight rumble of Sylf's chest as she hummed. Quietly, she said, "Hm, so that's where that prayer book came from."

"The ratty old one that he keeps on his person?" Ephraim mused back. "Huh. I can't imagine Tommy as a member of a church as strict as Periti's."

"He wouldn't have lasted. They have too many rules and Tomlyn is far too carefree," Sylf snorted in agreement. Ephraim only had more questions for Tommy, about his family and his time with Elanor, but it seemed those would have to wait for another day.

They fell silent and Ephraim closed his eyes, focusing on the way Sylf twirled his wavy hair loosely around her dexterous fingers. As Ephraim was toying with the idea of taking her other hand in his, her fingers froze.

"Ephraim! I completely forgot!" she exclaimed. He reluctantly pulled away from her, sitting up.

"What is it?"

She scowled at him. "The Tale of the Six Gnomes was absolutely terrible!"

"Really?" Ephraim asked, surprised. "I enjoyed it quite a bit."

"Well, I thought it was complete trash."

Ephraim frowned at her, thinking. Then, he couldn't help but grin. "You didn't solve the mystery correctly before the reveal, did you?"

Sylf crossed her arms. "The clues were terribly laid. No one could have pieced it together ahead of the reveal," she protested sourly.

Ephraim smiled, bemused. "And you had no luck on your second read?"

"Well, it was obvious during my second read through," she snapped. "But it doesn't count on the second read!"

He laughed. "Of course, Darling. As you say."

Her eyes narrowed at him, a glare set into her visage. "Don't mock me. You simply don't understand."

As Sylf launched into her detailed explanation of why the first clue was terrible and didn't make sense, Ephraim's heart felt full and light. He was only paying half attention to what she was saying, but he loved listening to the cadence of her voice, her huffs and eye rolls, and frustrated movement of her hands. He loved everything about her, really.

"Ooohhh no. We are NOT doing this again."

Tommy was approaching the couch, his jaw set.

"You just don't understand, Tomlyn," Sylf snipped.

"E.'s not even paying attention. He's looking at you the way a puppy looks at its master."

"I'm not a puppy!" Ephraim protested, puffing up his chest.

Sylf and Tommy shared a look. "Sure, E. Whatever you say. Point is, you weren't paying attention."

"I have been paying attention." Ephraim stated firmly. "The first clue was far too subtle in its foreshadowing because the payoff doesn't happen until far later in the book and by that point no one remembered the clue at all. The second clue was a mulligan and Sylf was currently explaining her issue with the third."

Sylf's chin raised as she beamed at him, pleased. Tommy rolled his eyes. "Can we get back to this plan please?"

"Yes!" Sylf exclaimed, rising from the couch. "I need to figure out how to get the Stars of the Isle back!"

Ephraim let out a frustrated groan. "Sylf, they're locked away. You can't find them!"

The room went still. It was in that moment that Ephraim knew he had made a very, very big mistake. Sylf's lips curled into a smirk, predatory and hungry. Around the table, Tommy began to laugh.

"That… sounds like a challenge," Sylf said slowly. She turned to Tommy. "Doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes it does," Tommy agreed, grinning boyishly.

Sylf flipped the garrison plan over and began writing on the back, her face alight with nefarious purpose. Ephraim stood, resigned and Tommy offered him a glass of brandy. Ephraim set his wine goblet down and took the glass.

"Tomlyn, help me think of places where the Stars could be," Sylf said as she studied the parchment intently.

Ephraim thought Tommy was going to help her, but instead he resumed his lazy, sprawled position on the couch. "Nope."

She whirled on him. "What?"

"Listen, you deserved those pearls. But, after listening to you bitch about that book for hours? You're on your own."

Sylf's jaw worked. "I…see." Then she whirled back to the table and continued writing away on the back of the parchment.

Tommy gestured to Ephraim, and he sat down close to his friend, resting his head against the back of his arm. Tommy leaned towards him conspiratorially and Ephraim moved closer, so their legs were pressed together.

"You have no idea what I went through," Tommy said in a low voice. "I get in a few days ago and she's reading, right? It's been like, two months since we've seen each other, you know? So, I snag a nice a nice hundred-year-old vintage-"

"Those are housed in the royal cellar," Ephraim said, frowning.

"Exactly, so I get the wine—"

"You know you could be flogged for stealing that wine if you were found out."

"Yeah, but nobody did! It's fine."

"Tommy, I'm the highest-ranking person in this palace and you're telling me!"

"Yeah, but we're friends. So, it's cool."

"I…never mind. Just, please continue, Tommy."

"Right, so, I get the wine, get some candles, set the mood. And I take my time because Sylf's still reading, so I even go to the kitchens and snag some of those little lemon cakes she likes—"

"You mean the ones set aside for Kassandra? Is that why she was cross with you?"

"Yeah, but I know how to deal with her," Tommy said, waving his hand as if the incident was inconsequential. It was not as Ephraim had to listen to his cousin give him an earful about his favored hound, again.

"Anyway," Tommy continued, "Sylf's still reading after all that, so I take a nice bath, get all cleaned up. And then she finishes the book, so I light the candles, open the wine, and settle in for a nice relaxing evening. And then,"

Tommy paused, frustration taking over, "And then she spent the entire time complaining about the damn ending in excruciatingly detail. Ranting and raving for hours, E.! Normally, I can't get her to talk much but this time, I can't shut her up! She just keeps going and going, and I swear E. after that I didn't even want to cuddle when she was finally done."

Ephraim couldn't help the giggle that escaped him. "It had to be bad if you didn't even want to cuddle."

"Right?" He huffed. "I love cuddling." He glanced over to Sylf, her back still turned to them. "I am a great cuddler." Tommy cocked his head to the side, still staring at Sylf. Ephraim followed his gaze, but he wasn't sure what Tommy was looking at.

"Damn, her ass looks good in that robe too," Tommy murmured.

Sylf whirled on them, eyes blazing. "I can hear you, Tomlyn!"

"Well, Sylf, it's not like I'm lying to E. but, we're, you know, having our time now. You go back to finding the pearls that you will never actually find."

"Please don't encourage her," Ephraim groaned.

"I'm standing right here," she snipped.

Tommy waved his hands in front of him, as if creating a barrier of some kind. "Right now, you aren't. This is me and E. time."

Sylf rolled her eyes, but she turned back around. Tommy relaxed back in the sofa and Ephraim followed suit. Being around the two of them was always fun. Even more so drunk. When was the last time they all drank together?

Touched by a sudden fondness, Ephraim placed his hand over Tommy's, his fingers curling over the side of his hand and pressing against his rough palm. Ephraim expected Tommy to be warm like Sylf, but his skin was unexpectedly cool. Tommy seemed surprised by the gesture, but he did not pull away.

"I wish you could be around more often," Ephraim said. "I miss you when you're out on missions."

Tommy gave him his usual carefree grin. "Don't worry about me, E."

"Of course, I worry," Ephraim pouted. "Sylf does too. Tracking the Silver Thread is getting more and more dangerous."

"Listen, E., things happen." Tommy slipped his hand out from under Ephraim's and reached up towards him, but then paused. His hand moved back to Ephraim's, clasping their hands together. This was not the handholding of two friends. Ephraim knew it, but he didn't pull away. Ephraim kept his gaze on Tommy's bright red eyes and warm smile. Even Ephraim had to acknowledge that Tommy was quite handsome.

Tommy's voice was unusually soft as he spoke. Intimate, Ephraim realized. "Just focus on enjoying the time we are spending together now, and, when I'm not here, the time you have with Sylf. Hold onto those moments, Ephraim, until we can form new ones."

"Oh!" Ephraim gasped in surprise. "You said my name!" he blurted. "You never say my name!"

Tommy stared at him for a moment and then laughed. "I didn't know you wanted me to say your name that badly."

Ephraim flushed. "Well, I wouldn't say that. It's just nice to hear it every once in a while."

"Hm," Tommy hummed. "I can do every once in a while. When it counts." He squeezed Ephraim's hand lightly.

The sensation was confusing and a little embarrassing, but also held the sense of something new. After over a decade of friendship, Ephraim was used to the flirtatious comments from Tommy, but this felt…different. Not bad, but different.

"Anyway, E. I had a good thought while I was pissing, as I tend to do," Tommy said lazily. Sylf harrumphed at his statement, but she didn't turn around. Ephraim noted that Tommy was still holding onto his hand as he continued, "I realized, you never told me why you conscripted me into your service."

Sylf turned to them, her arms crossed, scowling. "Is that something to really gloat about?"

"Of course! Why, jealous? We all know you're not very likable, in the conventional sense," Tommy added hastily, the hand holding his glass raised in preemptive defense.

"I like Sylf just fine," Ephraim protested. He saw her eyes flicker down to their still intertwined hands and her lips pressed together tightly.

Regretfully, Ephraim pulled his hand out of Tommy's grasp. He finished the last bit of brandy in his glass and set it aside. Then, he patted the empty space next to him and then outstretched both hands to her. "Come here, Darling."

Sylf scowled at him. "Don't think I missed the first time you called me that earlier tonight."

"I like calling you my Darling," Ephraim said breezily, his mind starting to feel the effects of brandy and wine. "I want to call you Darling all the time!" Sylf looked startled and her cheeks turned red. "See, you like it. You're blushing!"

Tommy burst out laughing and Sylf's scowl deepened. "You are not allowed to have brandy in my quarters anymore."

"I shall do what I please. I am a Prince. Now, come here, Darling," he repeated.

She stubbornly stared down at him, defiant to his order. "No."

"I won't tell this tale without you. Come here."

"You look cozy enough as is," she snapped.

Ephraim sighed, tired. He was simply too drunk and tried to play these games. "I just want to hold you," he implored. His voice dropped and he added quietly, "I never get to hold you."

His words hung in the air for what seemed like forever. Ephraim knew he was second to Tommy, but wasn't he being bold, for once? Isn't that what she wanted from him? His dejection then turned to embarrassment. Maybe he stepped out of line. He shouldn't have—

In a graceful, fluid motion, Sylf moved and stood in front of him. It took him a moment that she had indeed obeyed his order, but his surprise was overtaken by the nearness of her body. He looked up at her, basking in her presence.

Ephraim wanted nothing more than to run his hands under her robe and up her legs, and it took all his will power to seat her next to him instead. She leaned into him, her legs curled behind her on the rest of the couch. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around the back of her neck. Now, his fingers were entrenched in her thick hair.

With his free hand, he turned back to Tommy and gently took back the hand he released. Tommy squeezed it tightly. Ephraim relaxed his head back against Tommy's arm, looking into his shining red eyes as he spoke.

"So," Ephraim began, "As we all know, Tommy was part of a small gang that was hijacking noble coaches heading to their summer homes. He happened to have the luck of trying to hijack mine. Instead of killing on sight, all my soldiers have orders to capture when possible. So, there were a few ruffians—"

"Aw, ruffian? E. that's such a sweet way of putting it."

"You mean idiots," Sylf drawled at the same time.

"A few RUFFIANS," Ephraim repeated loudly, "and Tommy was among them. The thing is, you didn't look scared or cocky. You just looked…resigned. But not despondent. As if it was inevitable. Even when they hauled you away, I kept wondering why you looked like that. I couldn't put my finger on it. So, I decided to pay you a visit in your cell before the sentencing."

"Execution," Sylf snorted.

"Oh no, in the country they actually make an attempt at the judicial process before they execute you anyway. It's part of the theatrics and provides excellent entertainment in what would otherwise be a terribly boring day," Tommy quipped.

Ephraim frowned. "That's not how it's supposed to work. The magistrates are—"

"Just continue your story, Ephraim," Sylf interrupted.

Ephraim paused, worried by Tommy's joke, but his mind was too muddied to concentrate on more than one thing. So, he continued, "When I arrived at your cell, it looked as though you were waiting for your name to be called in the market. As though nothing was wrong at all. I just didn't understand. I asked you what you were thinking about, do you remember?"

Tommy smiled fondly. "I told you I was thinking about what my last meal would be, if I had the opportunity to get one." His smile fell a bit. "But that was a lie. I was…" he trailed off and looked away.

"I was thinking about whether or not my Grandmother would yell at me for dying so young. And if she would hug me again. Presuming I saw her again anyway, since I believe in the Eternal Flame and she doesn't," he shrugged. Then he said something in Undercommon, the cant he always said when he spoke of his Grandmother.

"She's a shitty goddess if she doesn't let you see her," Sylf grunted. Ephraim was sure she meant it to be comforting, but, judging by Tommy's slight frown, it wasn't.

"I never would have guessed," Ephraim replied softly. "At the time, our conversation, you just seemed so…genuine. Authentic."

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "E., you sure you're talking about the right person? I'm the one of the best liars there is."

Ephraim grinned. "I know, but that's not what I mean. You were so authentic to yourself. You knew that what you did was wrong and that you were caught, plain and simple. But you didn't let the situation claim you either. I just thought…" His grip on Tommy's hand tightened. "I just thought it would be a real waste of life to let you die."

"So, you asked me why I hijacked the coach. And I told you that I was hungry and you believed me," Tommy said, his voice soft.

"Yes," Ephraim affirmed. "The lure of treasure was there to be sure, but… doesn't everyone need gold to eat? To have a place to sleep? To just keep going and living each day? How could I fault you for that basic need? So, I decided to take a chance."

"And if I was lying then? If I really just was a greedy ruffian looking to make some noble miserable?"

Ephraim smiled knowingly. "Then there is no way we would be sitting here, right now, sharing this moment. And, if there's anything I know about you, Tommy, it's that greed is not one of your vices."

Tommy returned his smile. "No, but I do have others," he jested lightly. Tommy's hand shifted and his thumb began to trace slow circles around Ephraim's palm. His smile shifted into a look that made Ephraim's stomach flip.

Tommy's eyes seemed to alight with something Ephraim had never seen directed at him before, although, he had seen the expression directed at Sylf plenty of times. Wanting, longing… Then, Tommy's eyes flickered down. To Sylf, Ephraim realized.

Abruptly, Tommy got up and grabbed Ephraim's empty glass. The movement was so disorienting that even Sylf raised her head off his chest, confused. But Tommy simply went over to the decanter and refilled Ephraim's glass before returning to his corner in the couch.

As Tommy settled back into his corner, Ephraim took his refilled glass. Tommy raised his own glass in a toasting gesture and said,

"To us, then."

Ephraim grinned and clinked their glasses. "To us." Ephraim knocked back as much of the brandy as he could, the liquor burning down his throat. He felt giddy and warm and happy.

"So, Sylf." Tommy gestured to her with his glass. "After all these years you learned something new about me. What do I get to learn about you?"

"Oh! Yes, Darling! It's your turn!" Ephraim exclaimed.

Sylf shifted so she was sitting up a bit more, and Ephraim's arm fell to her waist instead. Though he missed her head on his shoulder, he could easily see her glare now.

"I don't remember agreeing to share anything," she scowled.

"Aw, don't be like that, Sylf. Come on, tell us something," Tommy prodded.

She stared at him, glaring, but then her lips curled into a smirk and her eyes narrowed. Haughty. Predatory. Ephraim's grip on her waist tightened and she glanced at him. He flushed, embarrassed. But it only made her smirk widen, as if she knew exactly what maddening effect she had on him.

Her gaze slid back to Tommy. "Well," she said slowly. "I suppose as your Mistress I can indulge you."

Tommy sucked in a breath, his intense red eyes transfixed on her. While Sylf was occasionally called the Web Mistress at court, this reference did not seem to be in relation to her title. Combined with her low, luscious tone Ephraim was left to his own inferences.

But Sylf was looking at Tommy, not him. Ephraim knew she always would, no matter what transpired between them. There was no sense in fighting it, but a part of him was still disappointed.

Ephraim cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah, perhaps, it's time I take my leave."

At that, Tommy frowned and Sylf looked at him incredulously. "I didn't say you could leave."

Ephraim stared back at her sharply, raising his chin. "I'll pretend I didn't just hear you try to give me an order."

At this Sylf rolled her eyes, but Tommy grinned, teasing and mischievous. "Careful, E. Our Mistress has quite the temper."

Sylf raised her fingers to Ephraim's chin, directing his gaze to her. He stared back into a visage that was equally terrifying and wondrous.

"He'll learn," Sylf said simply, in that low, sultry tone. She was pure wolf and he was the rabbit caught under her paws. "Besides," she added, her voice almost a purr, "Didn't you want to learn something new about me?"

Ephraim swallowed. He was NOT going to be the prey tonight. "I do," he said stiffly. Then, he relaxed a bit and gave her a grin, tightening his hold around her waist. "It's not every day I have my Web Mistress acquiescing to my whims and fancies."

"Mm, our Mistress is equally stubborn and demanding," Tommy added with a wink.

"Someone here has to be," she snorted, rolling her eyes. Tommy laughed and Ephraim joined him, smiling at his Darling.

She wrapped her arms around Ephraim's neck, and sighed, thinking. "Hmm, something you don't know about me," she mused. "Did you know I worked in Ephraim's manor back before I entered his service? As Alais Dawnwood from when I lived in the row house? It was my legitimate part-time job in-between my real jobs."

"Yep," Tommy said.

"I knew it too!" Ephraim exclaimed. He gave her a slight squeeze. "You cleaned my rooms."

"Only once," she clarified. "I was filling in for someone and Bertrand was very strict about who was allowed in your quarters. Mostly I did laundry and served your Uncle tea." She sighed. "I suppose I can talk about why I don't like dancing."

"Oh?" Tommy asked, eyebrows raising.

"It's nothing glamorous. As a child my mother forced me to learn, even though I just wanted to be outside with my bow. I was set on being part of the ranger Sentinels and being stuck in the ballroom was miserable. She'd stuff me in these silly dresses, and I'd be inside all afternoon learning how to do stupid line and partner dances. Then she made me do solo dancing, all kinds of styles. It was terrible."

Ephraim suddenly envisioned a grumpy little Sylf in a puffy blue dress. "Oh! I bet you were adorable!" he exclaimed.

"I was no such thing," she growled.

Tommy laughed brightly. "Definitely adorable."

"Oh, I bet you wore bows too!" Ephraim gushed, his voice rushing in excitement. "I can see you wearing a big bow in your hair."

"I did NOT wear bows."

"Oh, or small little ones on either side? The girls at the orphanage love those," Tommy added.

"Yes!" Ephraim exclaimed. "I bet they were all colors to match your poofy dresses!"

"Poofy dresses? My people don't wear—"

"Ooh, yeah, E.! I can see it with the big sleeves, big skirt, the works!"

"I did not wear anything remotely—"

"Oh, yes, Tommy! Do you think there are portraits? I bet there are portraits!"

"Depends on how wealthy her family is. So?"

Ephraim and Tommy looked at Sylf expectantly. She gave them a murderous stare. "There are NO portraits!"

"Now, now, Sylf, you can't lie to me," Tommy grinned.

"I've had enough of this," she snapped. She tried to stand, but Ephraim had a firm grip on her waist.

"Aw, not yet Darling! Tell me more about the Sentinels."

Sylf flipped her hair to the side indignantly. "Well," she began with a huff "They're an elite core of bowmen. I trained to join them, work my way up through the ranks." She scowled as she continued, "I was highly skilled, but I wasn't 'a team player' and they wouldn't promote me."

At that, Tommy burst into laughter. "You! Team player! I—can't—"

Sylf straightened and raised her chin. "I am a perfectly fine team player." She looked to Ephraim. "Right?"

"Oh, um, well, Darling, yes I suppose that is true. You are very, ah, —"

She frowned at him and Tommy laughed harder, clutching his side, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

"Selective," he said carefully, "In who you decide to cooperate with."

"Well, of course. Most people aren't worth my time," she replied. She glared at Tommy, who was still in an uproar. "Are you done yet?"

"Oh, man, just the whole image—of you being told off—team player—hah!"

"We have successfully pulled off heists together," she said pointedly.

His laughter died and then, with a crooked grin, he asked, "And in how many of those did you not kill someone in our party?"

"No, no, no, don't answer that! I should not be hearing the answer to that!" Ephraim interjected, panicking.

Sylf frowned at him and then shifted again, lowering herself so her head was resting on his shoulder again. As she resumed her position curled up against him, Ephraim's fingers entangled in her somewhat tangled hair once more. "It wasn't that many," he heard her grumble.

Ephraim sighed and leaned his head back against the back of the couch. He glanced over at Tommy, who was still chuckling, full of mirth. Then, he glanced down to Sylf resting against him. He smiled and said, "I'm glad you're my friends. My best friends. Hanging out like this is fun. We should do it again!"

At that, Tommy snorted a laugh while Sylf stared up at him skeptically. "E.! You realize you're talking to the best liar in the city?"

"And spy," Sylf added.

"And thief."

"And assassin."

"Former assassin," Ephraim quipped.

"Former assassin," Sylf amended.

"And bruiser," Tommy continued.

"And thief," Sylf added.

"I already said that."

"But I didn't."

"Okay, whatever. E. The point is, we're not good company. We're, like, the worst kind of people you can be friends with."

Ephraim considered this for a moment. "Generally, yes. But you two are not. Tommy, you're self-sacrificing and charitable to a fault. And you genuinely care so much about helping others."

Tommy looked taken aback for a moment but then looked away, the color in his cheeks darkening. "Thanks," he murmured.

Ephraim placed a fond kiss at the crown of Sylf's head. "And you, my Darling," he said softly, "Are fiercely loyal to those you care about. So, I think you're both great company. And I'm glad to have it."

There was a silence before Sylf snorted, "Idiot, Puppy Prince."

"Hey!" Ephraim protested. "I am not and idiot or a puppy!"

Tommy laughed as he rose from the couch. "Don't worry, E. That's Sylf's way of saying, I'm glad we're friends too. And I'm with her on that one." He gave him a quick wink before sauntering off towards the bathroom, leaving Ephraim and Sylf alone. A comfortable silence settled around them, and Ephraim buried his nose in her hair. She smelled of faded flora, gardenia, perhaps?

Her arms around him tightened, but she didn't say anything. Sensing something off, he asked, "What is it, Darling?"

"You…don't have to pretend. I know I'm difficult."

Sylf was difficult, but Ephraim liked that about her. Sylf wasn't conventionally likable, but she was unequivocally herself. She was greedy and arrogant, prideful and stubborn. But she was also demanding, intelligent, and interesting, and she made him laugh. She made him feel like he could be himself, as though anyone other than his truest self was unacceptable in her presence.

"Sylf," he murmured. She glanced up at him and Ephraim smiled down at her kindly. "I like you just as you are."

She looked away again. Then, she closed her eyes and shook her head. He squeezed her tightly, trying to reassure her of whatever she was thinking in her analytical mind. Her arms tightened around him, and she pressed her face into his chest.

"I like you, as you are, too," he heard her say into his chest.

His response was formed before he could stop himself. "Even though I'm not bold?"

"Being bold is in your nature," she replied. "You're just never bold with me."

Ephraim didn't hesitate as he reached down and titled her chin back so her beautiful, sharp green eyes were focused on him. "Then, I suppose it's time I rectify that." He leaned down and kissed her, slow and chaste. He savored her taste, of wine and something sweeter, like a cold treat on a hot summer day. It wasn't enough. He needed more.

He kissed her more urgently, trying to impress his need of her into every movement. Her arms went around his neck, her fingers entrenched in his hair, and her body shifted in his arms so she was straddling his lap. His mind was beginning to haze over, and all he could focus on was the heat of her mouth and the smooth, but occasionally rough, feel of her skin under his fingertips. She felt, she tasted, she was simply divine.

Ephraim surrendered himself to his desires and the deeply rooted longing he was forced to ignore and bury day after day. Sylf, the woman he desperately loved, was in his arms and this time, there was no holding back. Her robe slipped away, his shirt went over his head. She was pulling him up, off the couch and he held her, kissed her as they stumbled towards her bed, refusing to part with each other's touch.

He fell back on the bed and tried to pull her with him, but she said, "One moment. I'll be right back." And disappeared.

His mind spinning, he took a goblet of water from the nightstand and downed it. He set the goblet aside and lay on the bed, starting up at the red canopy. Everything in him was tingling and warm and so very happy. He blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy, and then the world was warm and dark.

~*0*~

Ephraim blinked slowly, a red silk canopy coming into focus. There was a dull throbbing in his head, but there was also something heavy on top of him. He had an arm around that heavy thing that was also sturdy, and warm, and soft. He craned his neck up to see thick dark hair and a purple hand laying on his chest.

Sylf.

Ephraim froze. He was definitely naked under these covers. With his free hand, he carefully lifted the sheet and peeked down. He dropped it quickly and stared at the ceiling, trying not to panic. Sylf was naked too. He racked his brain trying to remember the events of the previous evening. The details were fuzzy, but he didn't remember being in the bed. Was it possible that they were together and he just didn't remember it?

Disappointment and shame welled in him. How could he blackout during such an important time? After all these years, all of his wanting and longing, he finally was able to be with her fully and he didn't remember it at all?

Ephraim closed his eyes, trying to refocus himself. He didn't think he drank that much though, not enough to blackout. Maybe nothing actually transpired between them? But then why would they both be naked with him holding her like this?

That was when it clicked that he, indeed, was holding her as she rested. The disappointment ebbed away as he took in the moment—her head laying on his shoulder, her hand resting lightly over the middle of his chest, and her warm body pressed against his side, her leg intertwined with his.

He reached to her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. He knew that as an elf she was semi-aware as she rested, but he didn't care. How long had he dreamed of waking up with Sylf in his arms, just like this?

Ephraim stared back up at the red canopy and decided that regardless of what happened the previous night, he wanted to focus on this moment. He wanted to be here when she woke up. To kiss her a good morning and see her smile. Or glare. He'd welcome either.

He closed his eyes, his breathing evening out as his body relaxed. Just as he was about to fall back asleep, he felt a cool hand on his shoulder.

"E.," Tommy's voice was quiet but urgent. "I have to get you back to your rooms. Come on."

Ephraim didn't want to move, but he knew Tommy was right. Being discovered in Sylf's bed would be quite the scandal, despite the rumors already swirling about them. He sighed and reluctantly slid out of the bed. Tommy handed his clothes and Ephraim pulled them on quickly.

He cast a glance back at the lovely woman sleeping on the bed. She was frowning now, likely grumpy that her source of warmth was gone. She looked cute like that, he thought. Drowsily, she moved her way back up to a pillow and he pulled the sheet over her shoulder, tucking her in. He placed a kiss on her brow and let his lips linger for just a moment longer than needed. He wished he could hide under these covers with her all day.

Ephraim forced himself to pull away and left with Tommy through the hidden passage in Sylf's quarters. It took them to another hidden entrance to the servants tunnels and from there they were quickly back in Ephraim's rooms with no one the wiser. Ephraim collapsed into his bed and let sleep claim him once again.

The next time he woke, it was to Bertrand and a full breakfast tray, complete with a glass Lenore's hangover remedy. He forced himself to drink the remedy and he ate enthusiastically, not realizing how hungry he was. Then, Bertrand was shooing him into the bath, informing him that he still needed to be prepared for his Council meeting later that afternoon.

The water was a bit too hot, but Ephraim forced himself into his pool-styled bath anyway. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the mosaic edge of the bath. It was so much easier to relax and, well, think when he had room to spread out. Wait…his bath was inlaid with mosaic tile in floral patterns. Hadn't Sylf mentioned once, years ago, something about his mosaic bath?

Yes! That time when she saved him and brought him to her home in the market district! At the time he was too tired and shaken to realize what she was saying but the reference was clear! And her sewing, it was the maid's uniform. That's why he recognized it! He couldn't help but grin. Even back then she was dropping hints for him, leaving clues for him to guess and learn more about her. She truly was something else…

He closed his eyes, recalling the feel of her sturdy frame in his arms, the coarseness of her slightly-tangled hair as he ran his fingers through the length of her tresses. Her heated palm against his bare chest. Her hot mouth, demanding more from him…

Ephraim groaned, splashing his face with water, but then recoiling as he remembered that the water was still hot. "Ow!" he hissed, rubbing his face. What was he doing? What had he done? He decided he didn't want to think anymore and simply needed to find a way to turn his brain off.

There was a knock at the door and it opened slightly. A distraction!

"Hey, E. Mind if I come in?"

"Oh! Tommy! Of course!"

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for them to chat like this. Ephraim was just so busy that sometimes it was hard to carve out time for his friend. Tommy sat a respectable distance away and it let them chat in peace without other ears and prying eyes.

As Tommy entered, Ephraim realized he must also be attending the meeting later that day. He was dressed in his official livery, made to match Sylf's formal court attire—simple black slacks tucked into polished black boots, and a black vest with gold buttons over a white blouse.

The vest was unbuttoned and rested askew on his chest as Tommy sat lazily in the chair, reminding Ephraim of a swashbuckler from a novel. Even with the vest open, the thick, golden coat of arms of Ephraim's house was prominent on the left breast.

"We got the garrison plan settled, by the way," Tommy said as he sat.

Ephraim sighed, relieved. "Thank the Goddess. I don't think we discussed anything remotely presentable last night."

Tommy grinned wolfishly. "No, we did not."

Ephraim felt his cheeks heat and he turned away, resting his head against the edge of the bath. In Ephraim's silence, Tommy began to whistle a tune—a sea shanty Tommy picked up from a few sailors once, Ephraim recalled. Ephraim thought Tommy might say something else and drive the conversation away from the events of the previous night, but it seemed Tommy was just…waiting.

"Tommy?" Ephraim called hesitantly. He simply couldn't just sit around and ignore last night, as much as he wanted to.

The whistling paused. "Yeah?"

Ephraim forced himself to turn and look at his friend. "Did Sylf and I…did we…ah, you know?" Ephraim mumbled. He felt utterly embarrassed.

"You're going to have to be a bit more descriptive than that, E."

"Come on, Tommy, you know what I mean!"

Tommy laughed brightly, amused. Ephraim certainly didn't see what was so amusing. "Well, what do you think happened?" his friend asked.

Ephraim took a deep breath. "I remember telling my story. And I remember…" Holding Tommy's cool hand. Tommy leaning towards him…

Ephraim snapped back forward, ripping his eyes away from Tommy as he buried his head in hands. How…what…WHAT had he been thinking? They nearly…ah!

From behind him, Tommy laughed good naturedly. "Relax, E."

"That's easy for you to say!" Ephraim sputtered back. He groaned again, and tried to think past what nearly occurred between him and Tommy.

Okay, Tommy got up and left him and Sylf on the couch. That much he did remember clearly. And then…Sylf. Sylf in his arms, Sylf kissing him, Sylf in his lap, his hands spreading open her robe…He suddenly recalled the way her sturdy frame felt in his arms, the small hitches and sighs of pleasure that he elicited from her enticing lips…Focus, focus! They were on the couch and then standing, and then…the bed.

"I…did make it to the bed," he said slowly. "It's just after…I can't recall anything until waking up." Did he go all the way with Sylf, only for him to not remember? His embarrassment faded as the disappointment and shame returned.

Tommy's grinned widely and said a bit too cheerily, "Oh, of course you don't. You passed right out in the bed. Buck naked and everything."

Ephraim's jaw dropped, speechless.

Tommy seized the moment, as though he were embellishing an epic tale. "Oh yeah. You two start to get busy on the couch—I really didn't think you'd make the first move—and then you get up and very passionately made it to the bed. Sylf stepped away to use the restroom and when she came out two minutes later, she found you in her bed, snoring away. Completely, and blissfully unaware.

"No," he whispered.

"Oh yeah." Tommy was way too happy about this sequence of events. "The second you hit that mattress, you were dead asleep. She was not very happy about it, considering how well you worked her up."

"But— but— " Ephraim sputtered, "She was naked too!"

"Oh, Sylf? She sleeps naked. Has ever since getting the row house and 'finally getting decent threaded sheets again'."

Ephraim blinked at Tommy, processing, before the horrific realization dawned on him. "She's going to kill me," He moaned.

"Probably," Tommy shrugged, grinning.

Ephraim sank into the bath, submerging his head. He was dead. Definitely dead. Sylf was going to murder him the first moment she saw him. Or was she? A part of Ephraim was deeply relieved while the other part of him was frustrated that he couldn't do something that seemed so easy for everyone else. While he knew sleeping with someone while blackout drunk was never a good thing, maybe it would have broken that barrier between him and Sylf completely—it would let him put reason by the wayside and actually taker her into his arms.

…That was a lie. He would feel miserable if such a thing occurred and there was no way he would want to take advantage of the situation like that. He also knew Sylf well enough to know that such an act, a lack of remembrance, would hurt her. It was better to have things stop before they really started, at least, as far as last night was concerned.

After he could no longer hold his breath, he broke the waters surface. He asked Tommy to excuse himself and he finished bathing, unable to help the relief and frustration swirling in him. After his bath, Tommy helped him dress and ready for the day, Bertrand no where in sight. Ephraim was thankful for it. Bertrand had a peculiar way of knowing Ephraim and scolding him at the same time, and he knew Bertrand did not particularly care for Sylf.

As Tommy was helping him into his jacket he asked, "Alright, E., you finally going to say what you're thinking? You're too sulky."

Ephraim sighed dejectedly. "I don't know how I'm supposed to face her and pretend that I, well… Sylf is more beautiful, more lovely than I ever imagined and how am I supposed to pretend I never saw her, well, THAT way?" he lamented.

"Honestly, E., half the time I look at her she's naked in my head so—"

"That does NOT help Tommy! How am I supposed to get through this?" Ephraim despaired.

Tommy just laughed again, his shoulders shaking a bit at his mirth. "Just relax, E. She's not going to want anything public either, so she can't murder you in the council room."

Ephraim sighed, too exhausted to answer. Tommy resumed his humming as he began to button the jacket. Wait a moment…what about Tommy?!

Horrified, Ephraim seized Tommy's arms. "Tommy! I—I can't believe I said all of that in front of you! I, with Sylf, I'm so sorry!"

Tommy seemed genuinely confused. "What's there to be sorry about?"

"She's your lover and I—we—"

"Oh, it's fine. I don't mind."

Ephraim found himself speechless once again. "But, Tommy—"

Tommy gently removed Ephraim's hands from his arms and began to adjust the jacket's lapels. "If it's the two of you, I don't mind. It's fine."

Tommy had said as much time and time again. Every bouquet delivered, after every apology when an unexpected intimate moment occurred between him and Sylf. He simply just did not understand. "What were you doing when Sylf and I were, ah, you know?" Ephraim looked away again, his face burning.

"Oh, I was watching," Tommy replied casually.

"What?!" Ephraim blurted, embarrassed.

Tommy laughed and gave his jacket one last tug. "All finished, Your Highness." Tommy winked and stepped away, letting Ephraim view himself in the mirror. But Ephraim turned to his friend, open mouthed and at a complete loss for words.

Tommy laughed again, warm and carefree. "Don't look so shocked, E. I thought I'd let you two go at it for a bit and I would wait for an opening to join you."

Ephraim's mind stuttered to a halt. "Wait, you mean…you mean the three of us? Together?" he blurted.

Tommy paused and for a moment his visage was uncharacteristically serious. Then, he grinned lazily. Or, at least tried to. Maybe someone who didn't know the drow well wouldn't be able to tell, but Ephraim had known Tommy for years. It was clear the question had unsettled him.

"Ah, yeah, it's probably a bad idea. You don't swing that way anyway. Forget about it." He turned to leave the room. "I'll catch you at the meeting."

Ephraim didn't know exactly what to say, but he knew he couldn't let Tommy leave like this. "Tomlyn," he called.

The drow stopped and cast a glance over his shoulder, grinning. "You used my name. You never use my name."

Ephraim couldn't help but smile as he gestured for the drow to return to him. "You really need to wear your livery properly, Tomlyn. Sylf will be angry with you if you show up looking sloppy."

Tommy barked out a laugh. "Yeah, except, unlike most people here, I don't mind her bite." Ephraim felt his cheeks flush a bit at the image, but he grinned in response. Tommy approached Ephraim slowly and lazily, each step full of Tommy's usual swagger. He shrugged, "I'll still piss off someone at that meeting anyway. Probably the Grand Duke, the old bastard."

Tommy's good natured humor felt like a salve for Ephraim's frustrations and disquiet. Even if it wasn't words of advice or wisdom, Tommy's carefree and genuine nature always helped Ephraim relax. Like this, Ephraim felt it was possible to survive the upcoming meeting.

"Don't take it personally," Ephraim quipped back. "It's exceedingly difficult to make my Uncle happy." Tommy grinned as he stopped in front of him, hands in his pockets.

An unusual silence settled between them as Ephraim realized Tommy was standing in front of him far closer than only friends should be. Ephraim cleared his throat and began straightening the vest over Tommy's broad shoulders. He glanced up at Tommy, nervous, but Tommy seemed relaxed. Ephraim didn't know how, when he was so aware of every movement his fingers made over Tommy's broad, tough chest.

As he finished buttoning the vest, Ephraim straightened the collar, running his thumb over the embroidered golden spider web, the signifier that Tommy was Sylf's lieutenant Spy Master. "I don't typically, ah, 'swing that way' as you put it." Underneath, he felt Tommy stiffen. "But, well, perhaps, it is as you keep saying," he murmured, thinking aloud.

He let his hands fall to his sides, and Tommy's cool, nimble fingers brushed against his. Ephraim honestly didn't know how he felt. It was new and different, but not necessarily bad. The confusion of the previous night returned, but he met Tommy's gaze regardless. He appeared to be composed, but Ephraim could see the small tightening of his mouth, the subtle crease in his brow.

"You keep saying you don't mind Sylf and I—us, specifically. I won't pretend to understand, but with regard to the three of us…" he swallowed, trying to convey how he felt into the right words. "I suppose, it's similar. If it was to happen, I don't think I could see it with anyone other than the two of you."

Tommy's brows rose for a moment, and then relaxed, an easy grin spreading across his face. "Alrighty, then," he said, his voice soft but excited. Ephraim felt his cool fingers curl around his own, and Ephraim's cheeks heated. All of this was so different, but he did not dare pull away.

Tommy cocked his head at Ephraim. "You know, that Old Bastard never liked me. Always thought I was a rogue and a thief—which is true—but that I was too beneath you to waste your time on. He kept thinking I was going to steal from you and run away with all your riches." A mischievous grin was forming on Tommy's face. It was a look Ephraim knew to be one where Tommy was about to do something that was absolutely going to get him in trouble.

"I guess, I should actually live up to that. You know, steal something from you," he shrugged, that mischievous grin in place.

"Tommy," Ephraim began warningly, "What are you—"

But Tommy cut him off in a way that was completely unexpected. He closed the distance between the two of them and firmly planted his lips on Ephraim's.

Ephraim's eyes widened in surprise and his mind went blank. But he didn't pull away. Instead, he gave himself to the moment, to see and try. He focused on the kiss, on Tommy's cool touch and softness of his lips. He felt his fingers interlace with Tommy's, as Tommy's other hands cupped Ephraim's face, deepening the kiss.

Ephraim's mind swam as he responded. Kissing Tommy wasn't like kissing Sylf—he was self-assured and steady, whereas with Sylf there was the range of trepidation, easing into each other, and then frantic need as desire took hold. But this…this wasn't bad either. He didn't feel the strong pull of desire like he did towards Sylf, but there was something there.

Just as Ephraim wanted to dig into that something more, Tommy pulled away, stepping back. He was grinning like a boy relishing in a naughty prank.

"Ah, I should really steal from you more often," He winked, his voice breathy and light. Before Ephraim could respond, Tommy clapped him on the back, grinning. "Come on, E. Let's head to what is undoubtedly going to be a really awkward meeting."

"Tommy! None of this is funny!" Ephraim protested as they walked out of Ephraim's quarters. Tommy laughed and Ephraim couldn't help but smile. Tommy's antics did help in distracting Ephraim, though. He felt good about things, regardless of the newness of Tommy and the uncertainty with Sylf.

In fact, he was in such a good mood, that when Ephraim came upon Sylf, her livery neat and orderly and her high ponytail swinging as she approached him with purpose and a scowl, he couldn't help but smile warmly at her.

"Good Morning, Sylf! Did you rest well last night?"

Sylf shot him a dirty glare and stalked past him without so much as a greeting into the council room. Tommy burst into laughter and Ephraim grinned at his friend. The three of them, hm? If he could ever determine what he really wanted from Sylf, then perhaps it wasn't such a far-fetched idea after all.

I'm so happy this is finally posted. There are so many drafts of this fic, and I'm so happy to be done with it haha. It's sorta funny because this final version is derived from the first draft I wrote. The other drafts were much spicier, but I thought it would be better to tone it back a bit. Also, I'm not sure I'm good at writing drunk people, but I don't think it matters lol. I really enjoyed the character writing in this one, and, as always, writing from Ephraim's perspective is always a treat. I hope you enjoyed reading this one, despite the length, as much as I enjoyed writing it.