"What did you do?" Dixie demanded the second the door of the luxury suite closed behind them. "How th' hell did you get Murderface's body?"
"Cupid smiles on us, darlin'," Ben announced. "The stupid bastard choked to death on his own vomit."
He put Dixie on her feet then crushed her into a strong squeeze.
"You smell wonderful," he murmured into her hair. "I forgot what it was like to smell."
Dixie frowned.
"If he died, you wouldn't be here!"
"Schematics; I waited until his heart stopped, then rolled him onto his stomach, gave him a jolt to the ticker and took possession of this lovely pseudo-corpse," Ben stated casually.
He released his hold on the redhead, caressed her gently, then squeezed her again.
"If he was only dead for a second, where's his soul?" Dixie asked.
"I neither know nor care," Ben said backing towards the bed and gently pulling Dixie along with him.
The redhead looked around the room as though she expected to see the soul of William Murderface peering at them from the shadows. The body of William Murderface sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his lap.
"Ben . . ."
"You must call me William now, darlin'," he chided gently. "I do realize we thought we'd have more time to practice, but fortune favors the bold."
Dixie was still scanning the room for the specter of Dethklok's bass player. Ben caught her chin and turned her to face him.
"I know reincarnation plays havoc on your memory," he stated. "But do you remember what I said the last time we were both flesh?"
Dixie's eyes widened as a flash of memory returned. She was cold, hungry, laboring to breathe as her proud soldier held her up in a sitting position to prevent her from drowning in her own fluids.
She was nothing more than a camp follower, a refugee in the War of Northern Aggression, but a Brigadier General had taken her into his tent and then his heart. This man who once fought his way through fifty Federal soldiers with nothing but a horse and a saber was rocking her dying body gently, begging, pleading, ordering her not to leave him. And just before life had slipped through her bony fingers, he whispered one sentence that left its mark on her very soul.
Dixie wasn't the emotional sort but she felt tears pooling in her eyes.
"Y-you said we weren't finished yet," she whimpered.
"And we weren't," Ben said. "And maybe we won't be in this life, either. Maybe we'll spend the rest of eternity leap-frogging through time after each other; only meeting long enough to make the time we spend searching worth it."
"Y-you suh-searched for me for one hundred and fifty years . . ." Dixie said, earnestly crying now.
"Perhaps one hundred and fifty years from now it will be I who finds you a new vessel. 'I hope you don't mind putting some weight on this one, darlin', oh by the way, she's dyed her skin green.'" Ben teased, stroking his hands over her tattoos.
This coaxed a tearful giggle from Dixie.
"Hey, if I could body-jump into a skinny girl . . ." she began.
Ben sobered.
"I've watched you starve to death before," he said. "I never want to be reminded of it again."
Dixie blinked. She vaguely remembered being ill in her last life, but starving? There was a famine in the South during the Civil War, but . . .
"I much prefer you as you are now; plump, healthy—"
"Fat," Dixie supplied.
"Fit for loving," Ben offered with a salacious look in his eye. His hands went to her sides and gripped her firmly. "A man could lose himself for days in these charms and be delighted enough to fight off the rescuers that came after him."
"Oh great, I'm fat enough to get lost on – Oh!"
Dixie yelped as Ben rolled her onto her back and straddled her – taking the same position his ghost had been in this afternoon.
"Let's see if I can remember how to make love with a physical body," he purred. "Remember, darlin', the name you should be screaming is 'William'."
At some point the bartender ran away. The poolside bar was far enough away from the restaurant that there was no immediate danger from the riot.
Matthias didn't let this bother him; he just jumped the bar and helped himself to a beer. After a few minutes, Pickles wandered up and plunked himself down.
"Kin . . .kin . . . kin I have a beer, too?"
"Sure," Matty muttered.
He drew a beer for the drummer and set it in front of him, adding a bottle of water just because Pickles looked like he needed it. The pair drank in silence.
"Fuck it . . ." Matty sighed.
"Fuckin' A!" Pickles agreed, lifting his beer in salute.
JB appeared behind the drummer with Nathan slung over her shoulder. She dumped the singer onto a barstool and took off back into the fray. The lead singer looked after her for a long moment, then turned back to Matthias.
"I need a hundred beers," he announced. "Exactly one hundred."
"I don't know how many this thing holds," Matthias announced. "But I'll do my best."
"You look familiar . . ." the frontman stated.
"I'm freeeeeeeeee!" Matty trilled.
For the first time, Nathan didn't burst out laughing at that joke.
"Oh. I . . . um . . . I think . . . I think my goddess just rescued me," Nathan said, taking his first beer.
"Yep! She did, I just saw her," Matty said, draining his own glass. "You should make sure that temple is awesome."
Nathan nodded, still obviously lost in thought.
"I . . . um . . . I outed Toki, too. He's pissed."
"It can be a scary thing to come out of the closet," Matthias declared, pouring himself another beer. "You're suddenly not a man anymore. They hear you like to kiss other men and they expect you to wear makeup and listen to show tunes."
"Are you drinking beer?" Nathan asked.
" . . . yeeeee-eees. Why wouldn't I drink beer?"
"I thought gay guys liked little fruity drinks," the front man growled.
"Oh, kin you make a Mai Tai?" Pickles asked.
"Um . . . . I could give it a shot; there's a little cheat sheet here," Matthias said, pulling out a laminated card.
"So you're trying to convince me that you're really a macho dude?" Nathan growled.
"I'm not trying to convince you of shit," Matty announced. "You're not gay, so it's not like I can impress you into dating me, so why waste the effort?"
"Toki's ga – Toki likes chicks and dudes," Nathan said. "Maybe he'd date you."
"Awwww, that's sweet," Matty said, sliding another beer to the front man. "No offense, but if every single one of you was gay I wouldn't date anybody in the band. You'd all make crap boyfriends. Plus I'm probably not supposed to date any of my employers."
"Hey, I'm a good boyfriend!" Nathan protested. "I'm a fuckin' awesome boyfriend! I take my chicks shopping and shit . . . . I'm awesome!"
"Are you trying to convince me I want to date you?" Matty asked with a chuckle. "We could go hunting."
"I am not trying to – motherfucker! . . . you hunt?" The singer stumbled through a few sentence fragments, having trouble expressing himself.
"I bow hunt," Matthias answered. "Guns are for pussies. Here, try this, Pickles."
The American Cupid slid the Mai Tai to the drummer. Pickles grabbed the glass and took an experimental sip.
"Wow," he murmured. "Dat's the worst fuckin' Mai Tai I've ever had."
"Sorry!" Matthias laughed, reaching for the glass.
"I didn't say I wasn't gonna drink it!" Pickles protested, holding the glass out of reach.
Matthias held up his hands in supplication.
Skwisgaar wandered into the pool area. He started to undress as he passed through the gate. By the time the Swede reached the hot tub he was completely naked.
"Well, there's one perk to the night," Matthias sighed.
The disguised deity took another long slug of beer, realized his glass was empty, and topped it back up just in time for Charles to come running into the bar area.
"Why is CNN reporting that Toki just came out of the closet?" the CFO demanded.
Pickles and Matthias slowly pointed to Nathan.
"What are you doin' watching CNN on vacation?" the front man asked sullenly.
"Nathan Explosion . . ."
"He said he was gonna hook up with his leprechaun! I thought it was obvious! I'm the one who dragged him off-stage and told him stop being a little gaywad!"
A muscle twitched under Charles' eye.
"The leprechaun's here now?" The CFO became aware that his assistant was offering him a beer. "I'm going to need something stronger than that!"
"Hey, Freddie Mercury was bisexual," Pickles offered. "You ain't supposed to get bent outta shape about that anymore. Right, Murderface?"
The drummer looked to his left, where, Charles couldn't help noticing, no one was standing.
"Oh fuck you, you're a homophobe douchebag," Pickles declared.
Charles glanced at Nathan.
"He's havin' a bad trip," the front man muttered.
Conway approached the manager with a glass of something clear over ice. Charles took a slug and nearly choked.
"What the fuck is this?" he demanded.
"Patron," Matthias said. "It was the strongest stuff I could find. You want a lime?"
"Look - look on th' bright side," Pickles slurred. "With Toki comin' out as bi, no one's gonna give a shit that you got three girlfriends!"
"Yeah! They'll just think you're a cum-guzzling cockhole who thinks of chicks as possessions!" Nathan announced cheerfully.
Charles considered this.
"Lime," he ordered.
"What's my name?"
"Ah! Aaaah! Will-William!"
"Say my name!"
"William!"
"Beg for it nice now!"
"Oh - Oh God, harder, Will, harder!"
The two Gears guarding the door of Murderface's hotel room were staring straight ahead. After a while, one of them finally let his shoulders shake with laughter.
"I don't know about the Bossman," his compatriot stated, his tone rich with humor. "But this trip is certainly doing Lord Murderface good."
The first Gear finally gave in to his laughter.