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Neon Gods: Chapter 12

Persephone

I expect Hades to call in people to dress me rather than let me leave the house. All in the name of safety, of course. So I’m surprised when he leads me to the front door. A pair of sheepskin boots sit there. He points at the bench tucked back in an alcove of the foyer. “Sit.”

“You bought me boots.” They’re hideous, but that’s not what has me raising my brows. “This is your idea of a compromise?”

“Yes, I do believe I’ve heard the word before.” He waits for me to pull them on, watching closely as if he’s about to jump in and do it for me. When I raise my eyebrows, he slips his hands into his pockets, nearly successful at pretending he’s not an overprotective mother bear. “I’m well aware that you won’t submit to being carried down the street.”

“Very astute of you.”

“Like you said: compromise.” Next comes a large trench-coat type of jacket that covers my borrowed dress. I look absolutely ridiculous, but that doesn’t stop my heart from going warm.

Hades, king of the lower city, boogeyman of Olympus, someone more myth than reality, is taking care of me.

I find myself holding my breath as Hades opens the front door and we step out onto the street. It looks nothing like the alley that led to the underground passage he used to bring me into his house. No trash. No close quarters and filth.

The upper city is all skyscrapers, the buildings nearly blocking out the sky; they might gain more character the farther one gets from the city center, but they don’t lose any height. The buildings on this street all stop at three or four stories, and as I look around, I pick out a laundromat, two restaurants, a few places with businesses I can’t determine, and a little corner grocery store. All the buildings have a feeling of age, as if they’ve stood here a hundred years and they’ll still be here a hundred years from now. The street is clean and there’s plenty of foot traffic on the sidewalks. The people are varied, dressed in everything from business casual to jeans to one guy in pajama pants and bedhead who ducks into the corner store. It’s all so normal. These people obviously aren’t worried that paparazzi are going to pop out around a corner or that one wrong move will cause catastrophic social consequences. There’s an ease here that I don’t know how to explain.

I turn around and look at Hades’s home. It appears exactly how I would expect from the parts of the interior I’ve seen. Almost Victorian with its steep roofs and all the stylistic extras. It’s the kind of house that speaks of a long and complicated history, the sort of place kids dare each other to run up to and touch the gates after dark. I bet there are just as many legends about this house as there are about the man who lives in it.

It shouldn’t fit with the rest of the neighborhood, but the eclectic clash of styles isn’t a clash at all. It feels strangely seamless, but with character that the city center in the upper city lacks.

I love it.

I glance back, only to find Hades watching me. “What?”

“You’re ogling.”

I suppose I am. I give the street another scan, lingering on the pillars that bracket the laundromat. I can’t be sure at this distance, but it almost looks like there are scenes carved into them. “I’ve never been across the river.” It never struck me as odd before—the way that Olympus is carved in two by the River Styx. The sheer lack of crossover between the two sides. Surely other cities aren’t like that? But then, Olympus isn’t like any other city.

“Why would you?” He takes my hand and slips it into the crook of his elbow like an old-world gentleman. “Only the more stubborn—or desperate—get across the river without an invitation.”

I fall into step beside him. “Would you…” I take a deep breath. “Would you show me around?”

Hades stops short. “Why would you want that?”

The harshness of the question shocks me, but only for a moment. Of course he’d be protective of this place, these people. I carefully touch his arm. “I just want to understand, Hades. Not gape at them like a tourist.”

He glances at my hand and then at my face, his expression unreadable. Except it’s not entirely unreadable, is it? He only goes icy when he wants distance or doesn’t know how to react. “We can go for a short walk after we get you some weather-appropriate clothing.”

Part of me wants to argue about the short part of the walk, but the truth is that my feet do ache, and after the events of the last few days, it’s smart to keep from overextending. “Thank you.”

He nods and we begin walking again. After a block, I can’t keep my questions bottled up any longer. “You say the people aren’t allowed here without an invitation, but Hermes and Dionysus were here not two days ago. Did you invite them?”

“No.” He makes a face. “There’s no boundary that can hold those two. It’s annoying as fuck.” His words say one thing, but there’s a certain level of fondness in his tone that has me fighting down a smile.

“How did you meet them?”

“It was less a meeting than an ambush,” he rumbles. He’s watching the street as if he expects an attack, but his posture is loose and relaxed. “Not long after Hermes took over the position, I found her in my kitchen, eating my food. I’m still not sure how she got past security. How she keeps getting past security.” Hades shakes his head. “Dionysus and I are familiar because distribution is something we both handle different parts of, but it wasn’t until Hermes that he started showing up outside business meetings, too. The man can drink like a fish, and he’s always in my goddamn fridge, eating my desserts.”

I’ve met both of them previously, of course, but unlike many of the other Thirteen, they don’t seem to care about politicking. At the last party, they were sitting in a corner and engaged in a rather loud running commentary critiquing everyone’s clothing choices as if they were on a red carpet. Aphrodite, in particular, had not been amused when they called her dress “a puffy vagina.”

Hermes is an ambiguous role. She’s a technical genius who handles all the security features in the upper city. It always struck me as strange that the Thirteen let her be so close when they guard their secrets like jealous lovers, but I’m one position removed. Maybe they understand something I don’t. Or maybe they fall victim to this glaring weakness in their defenses because it’s the way things have always been done. Difficult to say.

Dionysus? He’s a jack of all trades beneath the umbrella of entertainment. Parties and events and social positioning are his forte. And so are drugs and alcohol and other illicit entertainments. Or at least that’s the rumor. My mother has always gone out of her way to ensure we’re never around him, which is slightly ironic considering how she’s trying to effectively sell me to Zeus.

I shudder.

“Cold?”

“No, just thinking too hard.” I give myself a shake. “We live in a strange world.”

“That’s an understatement.” He guides me around the corner, and we walk in easy silence for a few blocks. Once again, it strikes me how comfortable people seem to be here. They don’t stare at Hades and me as we walk past, something I didn’t realize I missed. In the upper city, the only thing people love more than politicking and ambition is gossiping, and as a result, the gossip sites pay a pretty penny for pictures and news about the Thirteen and those in their respective circles. My sisters and I are constantly being photographed like midtier celebrities.

Here, I could be anyone. It’s incredibly refreshing.

I’m so busy contemplating the differences between upper and lower city that it takes me a good ten minutes to realize Hades is moving far slower than he would naturally. I keep catching him checking his stride. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I’m pretty sure that old lady just lapped us around the block.” I point to the gray-haired Latina woman in question. “Honestly, Hades. My feet are doing much better. They barely ache today.” It’s even the truth, not that I think he’ll believe me.

As expected, he ignores my attempt to be reasonable. “We’re almost there.”

I fight down the urge to roll my eyes and let him lead me one more block into what appears to be a warehouse district. We have several areas like this in the upper city, large building after large building, all varying shades of gray and white. My mother is in charge of the one connected to the food supply.

Hades moves to a narrow unmarked door and holds it open for me. “In here.”

I take one step inside and stop short. “Wow.” The warehouse is one massive room that has to take up most of the city block, a divine space filled with fabric and clothing in every color and texture imaginable. “Wow,” I say again. My sisters would die to get a chance to peruse this space.

Hades speaks softly, the words designed not to carry. “Juliette used to be the premier designer for Hera—the one two Heras ago—but when she died, Juliette was a little too vocal about her suspicions of Zeus so he set out to destroy her business. She crossed the river seeking sanctuary.”

I drift closer to the nearest dress form, clothed in a magnificent red gown. “I saw Zeus’s oldest daughter, Helen, wearing something similar to this two weeks ago.”

“Yeah.” Hades snorts. “Just because Juliette is effectively exiled doesn’t mean she lost her clientele. That’s how the Thirteen work. They do one thing publicly and something else behind closed doors.”

“Once again, just reminding you that you’re one of the Thirteen.”

“Technicality.”

A woman’s voice comes from somewhere farther in the warehouse. “Is that Hades I hear?”

He lets loose an almost silent sigh. “Hello, Juliette.”

The Black woman who appears from between racks of clothing has the kind of timeless beauty that starts on runways and only gets better with age. Her short black hair leaves her face on full display and I actually sigh a little at how gorgeous she is. Like a painting or a piece of art. Flawless. She walks toward us, each movement graceful, and I am doubly sure that she used to spend time on runaways. Juliette takes me in with a single look. “You brought me a gift. How thoughtful.”

He gives me a little nudge in her direction. “We need the works.”

“Hmmm.” She circles me like a shark, all elegant predatory movement. “I know this girl. She’s Demeter’s middle daughter.”

“Yes.”

She stops in front of me and tilts her head to the side. “You’re a long way from home.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that. I can’t get a good read on this woman. Normally, I would lump her in with the other beautiful, powerful people I’ve come across, but Hades trusts her enough to bring me here and that means something. Finally, I shrug. “The upper city can be exceedingly cruel.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” She glances at Hades. “Are you staying or going?”

“I’ll stick around.”

“Suit yourself.” She waves me forward. “This way. Let’s get you measured and see where we stand.”

The next few hours pass in a blur. Juliette takes my measurements and then brings forth rack after rack of clothing for me to try on. I expect the gowns. I don’t expect the loungewear or the casual clothes. By the time she brings out the lingerie, I’m weaving on my aching feet.

She notices, of course. “Almost done.”

“I’m not here for that long. I don’t know that all this is necessary.” Not to mention that the prospective bill makes me cringe. I highly doubt Juliette functions on IOUs.

She shakes her head. “You know better. The peacocking might not be as blatant in the lower city, but if Hades is using you to make a statement, then you must make a statement.”

“Who says Hades is using me to make a statement?” I don’t know why I’m arguing. That’s exactly why Hades and I made our bargain.

She gives me a long look. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult my intelligence. I’ve known Hades years now. The man does nothing without reason, and he certainly wouldn’t steal Zeus’s fiancée out from under his nose if he didn’t want to stir the pot.”

I don’t ask how she knows that I’m promised to Zeus. The lower city has access to the same gossip sites that the upper city does; just because I haven’t looked at the headlines doesn’t mean they don’t exist. They’ll have reported on both my engagement and my disappearance. Maybe if Zeus and my mother weren’t so sure of me, it wouldn’t have come to this. Now we’re both painted into a corner and I’m determined not to be the one who blinks first.

I take a deep breath and turn to the last rack. “Lingerie it is.”

It’s another hour before I wind my way through the racks to find Hades camped out in the corner of the warehouse that seems to be solely for this purpose. It’s got several chairs, a television that’s currently set to mute, and a stack of books on a coffee table. I get a glimpse of the one in Hades’s hands as he closes it and drops it on top of the stack. “I didn’t take you for a true crime fan.”

“I’m not.” He pushes to his feet. “You look comfortable.”

“I’m going to take that as a factual statement and not an insult.” I glance down at my fleece-lined leggings and sweater. Juliette also gave me an incredibly warm coat to combat the temperature outside. “You promised to show me around.”

“I did.” He takes the coat from my hands, examining it as if to determine its ability to keep me warm. I should be bristling at his overprotectiveness, but all I feel is a strange sort of warmth in my chest. The feeling flares hotter as he settles the coat around my shoulders and looks down at me. He strokes the lapels, and it almost feels like he’s touching me instead of the cloth. “You look good, Persephone.”

I lick my lips. “Thank you.”

He glances over my shoulder as Juliette approaches, but he doesn’t step back, doesn’t drop his hands. “Charon will be by to pick up the order later today.”

“Of course. Enjoy yourselves, you two.” And then she’s gone, bustling several of the racks deeper into the warehouse.

I watch her go, unable to stop myself from frowning. “I didn’t pay.”

“Persephone.” He waits for me to look at him. “You have no money.”

Shame heats my skin. “But—”

“I’ve taken care of it.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You haven’t let me do anything.” Hades takes my hand and tugs me toward the front door. It almost slips past me how casual he is touching me now. It feels so natural, as if we’ve been doing this far longer than a few days.

Hades doesn’t release my hand when we reach the street. He simply turns and heads back the way we came. Boots or no, my feet hurt and exhaustion settles over my skin in a wave. I ignore both feelings. When will I get another chance to see the lower city, let alone with Hades leading the way? It’s too great an opportunity to pass up just because my body isn’t at one hundred percent yet.

And maybe I just want to spend some more time with Hades, too.

Halfway back to the house, he takes a right turn and leads me to a doorway with a mass of cheerily painted flowers on it. Like some of the other businesses I’ve seen on our walk, it has white columns on either side of the entrance. I haven’t been able to get close looks at the others, but these depict a group of women by a waterfall, surrounded by flowers. “Why do some of the businesses have columns and not others?”

“It’s a sign that this place has been here since the founding of the city.”

The sense of history staggers me. We don’t have that in the upper city. Or if we do, I’ve never seen it. History is less important to the people in power than presenting a polished image, no matter how false. “They’re so detailed.”

“One artist did all of them. Or at least that’s how the story goes. I have a team whose sole job is to maintain and repair these as needed.”

Of course he did. Of course he would see this sign of history as an assent instead of something to be smudged out and erased in favor of the new and shiny. “They’re beautiful. I want to see them all.”

He’s got a strange look on his face. “I don’t know if we could make it to all of them before spring. But we can try.”

The strange warm feeling in my chest blossoms. “Thank you, Hades.”

“Let’s go in and get out of the cold.” He leans past me to open the door.

I don’t know what I expect to find inside, but it’s a small flower shop, with groupings arranged in cute tin buckets around the counters. A white man with a shaved head and truly impressive black mustache sees us and jerks away from the wall he was just leaning on. “Hades!”

“Matthew.” Hades nods. “Is the greenhouse open?”

“For you? Always.” He reaches under the counter and tosses over a set of keys. If I wasn’t looking closely, I might mistake his eagerness for fear, but it is eagerness. He’s delighted that Hades is here, and he’s barely concealing it.

Hades nods again. “Thanks.” Without another word, he tugs me through the room to a small door tucked in the back corner. It leads to a narrow hallway and up a set of steep stairs to another door. I make the climb in silence, fighting not to wince when each step sends a dull pain echoing up my legs.

The sight that greets us behind this final door makes the discomfort more than worth it. I press my hand to my mouth and stare. “Oh, Hades. It’s beautiful.” A greenhouse covers what I expect is the entirety of the roof of the building, housing row after row of flowers of every kind and color. There are hanging pots with vines and pink and white flowers cascading down. Roses and lilies and flowers I have no name for lined up carefully beneath cleverly concealed water lines. The air is warm and faintly humid and it heats me straight through.

He stands back and watches as I move down the aisle. I stop before a cluster of giant, purple ball-like flowers. Gods, they’re pretty. I find myself speaking without meaning to. “When I was a little girl, back before my mother was Demeter, we lived out in the country that surrounds Olympus. There was this field of wildflowers that my sisters and I would play in.” I move to the mass of white roses and lean over to inhale, enjoying their scent.

“We pretended we were fairies until we grew out of those types of games. This place reminds me of that.” For all that it’s cultivated instead of flowers left to grow wild, there’s an aura of magic about this place. Maybe it’s the little bit of springtime in the midst of a city cloaked in winter. The glass is faintly steamed, concealing the outside and giving the impression of us standing in the middle of another world.

Hades seems determined to take me through portal after portal. First the room behind the black door. Now this little slice of floral heaven. What other treasures does the lower city hold? I want to experience them all.

I feel Hades at my back, though he keeps a careful distance between us. “It’s easy to forget you’re in Olympus when you’re up here.”

An asset when someone carries the burdens Hades does. Even if he’s not a publicly active member of the Thirteen, it’s becoming clear that he holds plenty of responsibility behind the scenes. With the entire lower city resting on his shoulders, it’s no wonder he craves escape from time to time.

I turn and look at him. He’s so out of place here in his black suit and broody good looks, like a hellhound that wandered into a garden party. “Why here?”

“I like the flowers.” His lips curve a little. “And the view is outstanding.”

For a breathless second, I think he’s talking about me. It’s there in the way he looks at me as if the room ceases to exist around us. I can’t help holding my breath, waiting for what he’ll do next, but Hades just takes my hand again and tugs me down the aisle and through a set of glass doors I hadn’t noticed before. They lead into a second, smaller room that’s been set up almost like a sitting room. There are still flowers around the walls but the center of the room holds a number of chairs and a couch, all perched atop a thick rug. There’s a low coffee table with a stack of books, and the entire scene just invites a person to curl up and lose themselves for a few hours.

Hades bypasses the furniture and stops in front of the glass wall that edges up to the perimeter of the roof. “Look.”

“Oh,” I breathe.

He’s right. The view is outstanding. The greenhouse overlooks the River Styx’s curving journey, carving a swath between upper and lower city. This section of the river curves into a deep reversed C shape, creating a little peninsula on the upper-city side, bringing the water closer to us. The divide between the two parts of the city is barely noticeable from this position. We’re nowhere near the city center; the buildings on the upper-city side are older and more varied than I’m used to seeing. I wonder if they have the same type of columns that I’ve seen in the lower city, if the artist who created them crossed the river to leave their imprint.

“The shop is owned by an old family friend. At one point, I got into some trouble as a kid, and my punishment was tending the greenhouse for a few weeks.”

I manage to tear my gaze away from the view to shoot him a look. “What kind of trouble?”

He grimaces. “It doesn’t matter.”

Oh, now I have to know. I edge closer to him and grin. “Come on, Hades. Tell me. What kind of trouble could you possibly have gotten up to?”

He hesitates, and disappointment threatens to sour the mood, but finally he grudgingly grinds out, “I took the owner’s car for a joyride. I was fourteen. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“How scandalous of you.”

He looks out over the river. “I wanted to get the hell out of Olympus and never look back. Some days, it’s just all too much, you know?”

“I know,” I whisper. The desire to touch him rises, but I’m not sure he’ll accept comfort from me. “You got caught?”

“No.” He glares at the glass. “I got to the city limits and I couldn’t do it. I didn’t even try to cross the boundary out of the city. I just sat there in that idling car for a couple hours, cursing myself, my parents, Andreas.” At my questioning look, he clarifies. “He was my father’s right-hand man. After my parents died, he took care of me.” He drags a hand through his hair. “I drove back, returned the car, and told Andreas what I’d tried to do. I’m still not sure if the greenhouse was a punishment or his way of giving me a break for a little bit.”

My heart aches for the fourteen-year-old version of this man, who must have hurt so much. “It sounds like working here helped.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs as if it doesn’t mean anything, when it couldn’t be more obvious that it means everything. “I still come around and help sometimes, though since Matthew took over for his father, he’s as jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs every time I show up.”

I laugh a little. “He’s got some serious hero worship going on.”

“That’s not it. He’s afraid of me.”

I blink. “Hades, if he had a tail, it would have been wagging the second you walked through the door. That’s not what fear looks like. Trust me, I know.” He doesn’t look convinced. But then, it’s becoming startling clear that Hades holds himself apart from everyone else. It’s no wonder he doesn’t recognize the truth of how people look at him when he’s only searching for fear in their eyes.

I reach out and touch his arm. “Thank you for showing me this.”

“If you want to come back here at any point and I’m not available, I’ll send someone with you.” He shifts, almost like he’s uncomfortable. “I know the house can get stifling, and while it’s safe enough here, I don’t trust Zeus not to try something if his people find you walking alone.”

“I’m actually looking forward to exploring the house.” I look around the room. “But I will undoubtedly take you up on that invitation. This place is really soothing.” A yawn surprises me, and I press my hand to my mouth. “Sorry.”

“Let’s go back.”

“Okay.” I don’t know if it’s stress, my late night, or if Hades is right and I’m too good at ignoring my body’s signals. Surely not the latter. I take a step and then another, propelling myself forward from sheer stubbornness. But on the third step, the room goes sickeningly wavy and my knees turn to jelly. I’m falling, and I already know I won’t get my hands up in time to save myself.

“You stubborn little fool.” Hades curses and sweeps me into his arms before I have a chance to hit the floor. “Why didn’t you say you were feeling light-headed?”

It takes me a moment to reconcile the fact that I’m once again in Hades’s arms, that the harsh contact with the floor never came. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fucking fine. You nearly took a dive.” He stalks through the greenhouse and takes the stairs down two at a time, his expression thunderous. “You and everyone else in your life might be willing to play fast and loose with your health, but I am not.”

I get a glimpse of a startled Matthew as Hades tosses back the keys, and then we’re out on the street. I shift in his arms. “I can walk.”

“You most assuredly cannot.” He covers the blocks between the flower shop and his home at a startling pace. He really was checking his stride when we strolled casually around earlier. Part of me wants to keep arguing, but the truth is that I’m still feeling a little dizzy.

He practically kicks down the front door. Instead of putting me down like I expect, he marches up the stairs, bypassing the second landing. As much as I resent being treated like a child—even if maybe I should have said something on the way to the greenhouse about not feeling well—he’s sparked my curiosity. Georgie caught me this morning before I had a chance to do any real exploring, so the only bits I’ve seen are the sex dungeon, my room, and the kitchen. The third floor is all new to me.

That perks me up a little. “Where are we going?”

“You obviously can’t be trusted to take care of yourself, so I have to keep a better eye on you.”

I give up and rest my cheek against his shoulder. I really shouldn’t enjoy being carried about by this man as much as I do. “I probably just have low blood sugar,” I murmur. “It’s no big deal. I just need to eat something.”

“No big deal,” he repeats, as if he doesn’t understand the words. “You ate breakfast only a few hours ago.”

My skin heats and I can’t quite meet his gaze. “I had a snack.”

“Persephone.” He makes a sound impressively like a growl. “When is the last time you had a full meal?”

I don’t want to be honest, but I know better than to lie to him when he’s like this. I examine my fingernails. “Maybe breakfast the day of the party.”

“That was three days ago.”

“I’ve eaten since then, of course. Just not what I suspect you mean.” He doesn’t immediately respond and I finally look at him. Hades has gone so cold, it’s a wonder my breath doesn’t show in the air between us. I frown. “I don’t eat when I’m stressed.”

“That changes now.”

“You can’t just decree that something will change and make it so.”

“Watch me,” he snarls.

Hades opens a door to what appears to be a study, though I can see a bed through the doorway on the other side of the room. He walks to the couch and sets me down. “Do not move.”

“Hades.”

“Persephone, I swear to the gods, if you don’t obey me this once, I will tie you down and feed you by hand.” Hades points a blunt finger at me. “Do not fucking move from that couch.” Then he’s gone, sweeping out of the room.

I stick my tongue out at the closed door. “Drama queen.”

The temptation to snoop is nearly overwhelming, but I don’t think he’s bluffing with his threat to tie me down, so I manage to stifle my curiosity and sit still. Hades doesn’t make me wait long. Less than ten minutes later, the door opens and he stalks through, followed by half a dozen people.

I can feel my eyes going wider and wider as one of them sets up a little table in front of me and the other five place takeout food from five different restaurants on it. “What is this, Hades? Did you steal someone’s food to have it here this fast?” Then the sheer amount registers. “I can’t possibly eat all of this.”

He waits for his people to file out and then shuts the door. “You will eat some of it.”

“That’s so wasteful.”

“Please. My people love leftovers to a truly unholy degree. The remainder of the food won’t last the day once you’re finished.” He rearranges the cartons on the table and pushes the whole thing closer to me. “Eat.”

A not-insignificant part of me wants to resist just for the sake of resisting. But that’s shortsighted. If I’m light-headed, it means I need calories, and there’s a feast of them right in front of me. That’s simple logic. I still glare at him. “Stop staring at me while I try to eat.”

“Gods forbid.” He strides to the desk on the other side of the room. It’s smaller than I expected, though the dark wood and figures carved into its legs give it a dramatic flair. The first chance I get, I’m going to be on the floor trying to figure out what those carvings depict. To see if they match the style of the columns on the buildings.

This isn’t where he conducts actual work. There’s no way. Hades seems anal enough to prefer his work space clean and organized, but this is too pristine to be used day in and day out. More than that, his room is right through the door in the corner. No one conducts meetings that close to where they sleep. It would be foolish in the extreme.

Which doesn’t quite explain why he brought me here instead of to one of the many other rooms in the house.

I set the thought away, and as I examine my options for food, my mind goes back to the greenhouse. Annoyance at how overbearing Hades is or no, I can’t ignore the fact that he gave me the barest glimpse behind the curtain. That place is special to him and he allowed me access to it, plans to continue to allow me access to it. For someone as obviously closed in as Hades, it’s a gift of the highest order.

I’m not sure it means anything, but it feels like it does. If he can trust me that much, I suppose I can attempt to stop being such a pain in his ass, at least when it comes to taking care of myself. Even if I kind of like the way Hades gets overprotective and growly.

I’m sure I can find another way to poke at him.

In fact, I have several ideas already.


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