"Care to go 'round the pub for a drink?" Arthur asks, though it's not necessarily specifically towards me. He's looking at me, and I am sweating beneath my collar, but his arms gesture out towards everyone. There's nothing better than a drinking holiday around the office. It's better than making one up so we can all get smashed and complain about each other without having to remember it the next day. His eyes flick away but then they settle on me again, something softer in his expression this time, and god I am sweating.

"Sorry, can't," Morgana wisps in her dazzling tone of voice that is so unique that it can't be described in any single word. Even a well-thought out string of words laced together precisely to explain how delicate and alluring her voice is… well, it's not quite right. She's the office belle, obviously.

Though, Gwen is far more likable. Morgana is a proper businesswoman and a true leader in the marketing department. Gwen is a customer service lead. It makes sense that she's there too. Her compassion is the golden standard, not just for Pendragon Industries, but for anyone sporting a customer service team of any sort. Gwen does actual lectures about how to do her job well.

I want to look away from Arthur but I can't, and my lopsided grin is probably giving away how desperately I want to go to a pub with him. It's not exactly a secret that I'm madly in love with the Pendragon Industries' most eligible bachelor and heir, but he's somehow missed the memo.

Gwen comes up next to me and puts an arm on my shoulder. "Unfortunately, I have to head one home straight away. Elyan and I are taking dad to the cinema." She kisses my cheek the way she always does, loving and supportive as ever. Hell, she must know how excited I am about the possibility that I can finally have a go with Arthur alone and away from work. And with the false confidence of a bit of liquor no less!

"Shame. Are the knights already gone for the night?" Arthur asks, jogging onto the balcony, peering down at the sales floor. He calls them his "knights" because they're 'constantly fighting off the competition' to get more buyers. I hate that I love this about him so much. Like, I really love it.

The knights are gone, though. It's Saturday. They were only scheduled to work four hours this morning, and it was a volunteer basis only. The last to leave was Leon, and only because he's the floor supervisor, so he has to sign off on everything before he can go. "It's bloody Saint Patrick's day, innit?"

"Yeah," I mutter. God, when did I find my voice? Mordred just shows up a bit unexpectedly. He is Arthur's personal assistant and shows up pretty much whenever for various reasons, so I can't be surprised when he's just there. Mordred is a great worker but he's a bit of a sad bloke. He's someone that Morgana poached from another company, the story goes, and I've never fully trusted him.

Arthur invites Mordred, too but he declines. Morgana says that he's actually coming with her to a blind date event that's going in downtown London. Mordred affirms and I fight the urge to question it. I want to glare, to let them know that I know there's something off, but I'm still glued to Arthur. I'm still waiting for him to see if I can come.

And as he does, asking quickly and harshly, "How about you," I swear the sweat around my neck turns into a waterfall super charged with the electricity I feel when he looks at me. There's an undetectable longing, too, proving that he really wants someone to go with him. He wants to go drinking for the holiday specials but he doesn't want to go alone. I don't want him to either.

"Sure, I guess, just so you're not looking sad at the bar drinking by yourself, yeah?" Why do I do this? Why do I play it cool like I don't want to just grab his face and tell him what for about all my feelings: urges to kiss him, smack his arse when he walks by, and send him heart emojis whenever he passes my office to get his "I'm bored" cuppa.

Arthur rolls his eyes but the nods. "I can't believe you sometimes," he murmurs before checking the time on his phone. We've been closed for eleven minutes. Morgana is already gone with Mordred in tow. Gwen is busying with the coat rack near the security booth. The guard, Gaius – my uncle actually, is inside waiting for Arthur and I to finish our awkward staring business.

We walk out of the room together, scary close together, and Arthur doesn't open his mouth once about which pub we'll be drinking at, though I should know already. He always picks the same one: Camelot. Still, I ache the conversation. We're about a block away and I am desperate to say something. "You are one predictable bloke."

Arthur stops dead in his tracks. He turns to face me with a seriously straight line formed where his lips should be. Though I should be intimidated, I can feel that his body language is manufactured. "You can't actually talk to me like that."

"Yes, I can, sir, because I already did," I remark, lazily and with a thumping heart inside of my chest. We always chat this way, sharp and directly. I was never meant to have my job, not really, but there was an opening when I had come that day looking for Mordred's job. Gwen knew me, though, from school, and recommended me for the position personally.

So, here I am, Head of Finance, and I am constantly surprised by how much interacting I actually have to do with Arthur despite heading the finance department. I believe it's mostly because he doesn't know what his job is actually supposed to be, though he does quite a bit of mingling and socializing with the different departments and clients we acquire.

"Nobody else talks to me like that," he laughs, interrupting my train of thought. I shake my head, pulling my shoulders close, and decide to simply grin at his comment. "Why do you get to?"

'Cause I think of us as equals?

'Cause we see so much of each other that it's easy to poke fun?

'Cause I want you to notice me pretty desperately?

"'Cause you never actually ask me to stop," I decide, copping out of the truth.

Arthur bites that he shouldn't have to ask, that someone who is the victim of sexual harassment shouldn't have to ask the perpetrator to stop. It should never even begin, he exclaims into the sky, his blonde hair too short to actually whip in the wind the way it had done last year when he thought he wanted grow his hair out.

"It isn't that I want you to stop, exactly," Arthur reveals, resuming our walk again. "It's more that I just want to know why you feel so comfortable doing it. Morgana is the only other one who treats me so plainly, and it's because she's my sister and she loves me. Can't not love your sibling, can you?"

While we're rounding the corner, I slip a bit behind him. He's answered his own question, hasn't he? Morgana feels comfortable enough to joke with him and go around doing whatever she likes at work. Sometimes she even has a morning date in her office if she pleases. But she loves him, and no matter what weird business she might tend when she's not at work, she'll be there for him if he truly needs her. And the same is true for me too: I love him.

That's why I make my sarcastic remarks and laugh every time he's made a fool of himself. Sometimes I correct him in front of clients if I happen to be around. I find myself lingering a bit until we reach the door of Camelot, where Arthur then holds it wide open and gestures for me to go ahead of him. As I inch into the pub with deliberate steps, I lean into him let him know that he already has the answer.

"Just look for it," I declare, locking my eyes on his and waiting just a moment for him to see it. We're barely an inch apart before I slide inside, leaving him in the harsh wind with that knowledge.

Will it fly away?

If I'm lucky at all…