Chapter XIV. Brothers & Bonds
"No, man. No mansion touring. You just got bailed by me, why did you think you can keep getting away with this?"
In Hades' mansion's drawing room, Hades occupied one end of the long desk, while his brother Zeus sat at the opposite end, maintaining a considerable distance. The dim lighting subdued the opulence of the room's decorations, rendering them pallid.
"Hades, my beloved brother, you have bought such a massive mansion, you can't live in it without having a good ol' mansion touring." Zeus spread his hands in amazement, "Do you still decide to treat me like a convicted rather than a brother of your blood?"
"Stop. You are a disgusting, ill-made pile of useless muscle, who would become one sooner or later," Hades smashed his fist onto the desk without raising his line of sight, "You are here simply because I, as your older brother, had tons of fortune to splash out."
"Hey, you know me-I was simply enjoying my life. Party life." Zeus exclaimed and raised his voice, reverberating through the vacant drawing room, his smile unwavering, "You would tell the judges that there is nothing diabolical inside me."
"I am merely a character witness for you, whose credibility would be questioned 'til the end of the world by the prosecutors simply because we share the same bloodline," Hades retorted with a sneer, his head dropping as he concluded his statement.
"Anyway, what did the lawyer, you know, the new one I hired…what did she say about this case?" Hades shot a glance towards a seemingly remorseful Zeus, "Does the prosecution have enough evidence?"
"Well, the toxicology reports provided by that woman weren't exactly in their favour since they were conducted rather late..." Zeus paused, choosing his words carefully.
"...Did you admit you indeed did the crime? To me?" Hades raised his eyebrows, astonished by Zeus' casualness as the words slipped effortlessly from his lips.
"I'm simply expressing my opinion that the evidence was insufficient..." Zeus stated, trying to maintain composure, but his blinking eyes betrayed him.
"Leave." Hades stood up abruptly, pointing towards the doorway. The echo of the chair scraping against the floor still lingered in the room.
"...Hades, please-"
"I can testify AGAINST you if I want to. Now, leave," Hades stepped closer to Zeus, locking eyes. Upon realizing the long-sit resentment inside Hades' eyes, Zeus dashed to gather his belongings and make a swift exit to the door.
In front of the two golden casings belonging to himself and Hades, Jafar stood-his reflection with a scarlet T-shirt in the distorted metal surfaces appearing eerie.
What was the last time he shone the two golden casings? Frollo seemed to enjoy cleaning in general, so he had let Frollo shine the medal for quite a while. Maybe cleaning the casing was just merely a life ritual to deal with the sudden departure of Hades. Now Hades seemed to come back into his life, did such a ritual still hold its meaning?
Or did Hades truly return to his life?
He still refused to elaborate on why he left in the first place, he seemed to enjoy Frollo's companion far more, and he...he still used his alt to communicate with him on Discord.
Was this even the Hades he longed for? Was this the Hades who made him fill his empty bed next to him with mountains of plushies? Was this the same man whose name worthed Jafar's desperate cry in a rage room? Was he the one who was once his mentor, his peer, his shame and his bliss?
Through the reflections on the golden casings, Jafar noticed his current dormmate, Frollo (the man was still in poor health from the previous incident), wearing headphones behind him. Suddenly, Frollo's phone rang, prompting him to remove the earphones and answer the call. It had to be Hades, as the man did ask for Frollo's phone number beforehand.
"Morning, sir. How may I help you?" Frollo responded, showing no concern or even a side-eye as a quiet Jafar approached him gradually.
"Captain, our troop is under attack, phew phew phew-" Even though Jafar was only three steps away from Frollo, Hades' cheerful voice resonated from the speaker, "Alright, I do want to get down to the business but man, why do you always sound like a soldier ready for a mission report?"
"I appreciate your humour and your little military drama, but I am a Major before my retirement," Frollo seemed to be amused by Hades, which was quite rare in Jafar's eyes, "But if you want to, I can also sound like an unhinged convicted who was on the run, of which you expressed your distaste before."
"Nah, man, just be yourself, it's perfectly fine," Hades dismissed, and Jafar positioned himself right next to Frollo's face, eager to listen to the speaker., "Anyway, let's plan a dinner party at my house, shall we? Just me, you, and Jafar...you know, good ol' three-men party, and I can ask my private chef to cook whatever you want-hey! If that little bastard Jafar insists, I can tell my chef to make the most expensive, over-the-top, lavish instant noodles in the world! How about that?"
"I appreciate your offer. But I'd like to remind you that Jafar's cooking skills seem not that disastrous now. Maybe it will be nice if we cook together in Jafar's dorm-I would ask Jafar about his opinions on this matter, for sure."
Jafar widened his eyes and tilted his head, to which Frollo just replied with a nod.
"Nah, man. Even an uneducated dunce can cook better fried chicken than Jafar. You should watch the whole playlist of 'Replica But Disastrous'...Hey, do you remember that scene where God decided to drown the whole world? Yeah, Jafar replicated that exact same scene in one of the episodes, truly lived up to the series title, what a man that Jafar."
Jafar rolled his eyes, he knew which episode Hades was referring to: but it was because the pipe in his kitchen suddenly broke, ok? It definitely had nothing to do with his own cooking skill whatsoever-
"What? Did he let his spaghetti swim in the sauce? It sounds like it was just a beginner mistake," Frollo shrugged, "Anyway. I would send your regard to him. Take care."
"Wait wait wait woah woah woah..." Hades called off Frollo, "Dude, I haven't asked, are you feeling better now? You sounded like you would run out of breath at any second last time I called you."
"I am fine. Thank you," Frollo replied and put his finger on the lips, signalling to Jafar that he would end the call soon.
"Right, take care. See you."
Then Frollo hung up the phone, turning his sight to Jafar. The man just spread his hands to Jafar as if asking "So what do you think?"
"Uh, I am fine with either option, to be honest with you," Jafar scratch his head, "my fans were actually not that enthusiastic about me rebooting 'Replica But Disastrous'. So we probably won't cook in the studio for a while. I would say I am ok with cooking here with Hades."
"So, no streaming during cooking. Just cooking with Hades?" Frollo double-checked.
"Yeah, just cooking," Jafar responded, attempting to force a smile, but aware of how forced it would appear.
Frollo returned to the bar where Jafar had confessed his feelings for Hades. Such a crowded place for a confession, Frollo mused silently as he approached the counter.
"Hello, sir. How may I assist you?" greeted the bartender, wearing a warm smile.
"I'll have a whisky on the rocks, and another one for you," Frollo stated, counting a stack of cash and handing it over to the bartender, who appeared visibly perplexed.
"For me?" the bartender pointed at himself, a flicker of surprise replacing his warm smile, yet he maintained a professional composure.
"It would be a long night for both of us, so why not?" Frollo nodded, placing the stack of cash on the table gently-the stack was visibly much more than the prize of two whiskies.
"Oh...'a long night for both of us'. I love this opening," the bartender swiftly took away the cash and poured two glasses of whisky, "would you like to introduce yourself, dear stranger?"
"I prefer you call me 'dear stranger' then," Frollo formed a hollow smile that did not reach his eyes. As soon as the smile faded, Frollo continued: "I come here for...brotherly matters, let's just phrase it that way."
"A long night for brotherly matters. It starts to sound like a play for Greek mythology," the bartender swirled the glass of whisky on the ice, the clashes between the ice tubes formed a melody of ringing high notes, like "Clair de Lune" by Claude Debussy.
"Do you happen to be an individual who found brutal, gut-wrenching plots served best with some snack and alcohol? As long as it's fictional-or as long as it's far away from your everyday life, it would always be entertaining?" The bartender watched Frollo speaking and stretching his fingers like a lion admiring his claws. The reappearance of a smile on Frollo's face only made the bartender more unsettled.
Then Frollo's voice dropped to a hushed tone: "Did you happen to notice the gentleman in the corner of the bar? He has quite an interesting career, and he offers something...more exhilarating than a glass of whisky,"
As the bartender peeked toward the corner of the bar, he recognized one of his familiar faces, anxiously awaiting his next transaction, oblivious to the situation at the counter.
Why did the man in front of him was interested in these little secrets in his daily life? The bartender didn't understand, but he had to put on an act—it's part of his job.
"I am not sure if I understand what you mean..."
"I just want to ask you something, Mr bartender," Frollo raised his glass, "Forgive me for my assertiveness, but I have to 'ask for consent' before recording since California is a two-party consent state."
"And what occasions would the record be used in?" breathed the bartender, who regained his composure.
"We would both be anonymous when the record is present in the court. We would both become some initials, like a code," Frollo showed a flicker of a recording pen inside his chest pocket, which he placed next to his Bible, "I've told you, it's brotherly matters. Shall we begin?"