"Good job," Andras said, casually pulling his cutlass from the stone wall with a screech of metal.
Zac sat up, rubbing his ass. The warthog had provided a significant amount of cushion, but gravity was still a harsh mistress. "Good job for what? Being a projectile? Falling with style?"
"You…" Andras turned his head 180 degrees to look back at Zac, his expression unreadable. "Uh, you…" He trailed off, staring at Zac for a few long seconds, his golden eyes searching. He seemed to shake himself, correcting his head orientation with a click and walking over.
"You didn't break," the owl said simply. He looked down at the warthog demon, who had begun to roll over and moan groggily. Without breaking stride, Andras swung his cutlass in a casual arc. The warthog's head separated from its shoulders. The moaning stopped.
"So," Zac said slowly, watching Andras wipe the blade on the headless corpse's leather apron. "If you're done with your trap stuff… maybe you can show me where you'll be staying? We can think of some funny traps together. It would be nice to know where things are trapped beforehand, too." He laughed nervously, glancing at the pile of rubble blocking the hallway. "I don't think I'd be laughing along with the prank on some of these. Getting crushed by a ceiling isn't really my kink. Yet."
Andras looked from Zac to the hall full of rubble and frowned, his beak clicking shut. "I did mention you should avoid this hallway."
"But like," Zac pressed, getting to his feet and wincing, "what about tomorrow? Or the next hallway? I prefer my limbs attached."
The owl's eyes narrowed. "If I tell you, then the others might find out. Secrets are currency, little avatar."
Zac nodded, stepping closer. "So, will you let me know before I die? Or should I just wear a helmet to breakfast?"
Andras sheathed his sword with a fluid motion. He looked contemplative, his head tilting to the side.
"A little early morning debriefing," Zac offered, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. He stepped into the owl's personal space again, undeterred by the earlier betrayal. "You could quietly tell me what rooms to avoid… and maybe I give you a little massage… with my tonsils."
Andras's feathers puffed out visibly, doubling his size for a split second. His wings twitched.
Zac pushed, sensing an opening. "Our little secrets together. Just you and me. Partners in crime."
The change in Andras was instant. The playful smirk vanished. His shoulders stiffened, and the warmth in his golden eyes turned to ice. He took a sharp step back, putting distance between them. The rogue who had been flirting a moment ago was gone, replaced by a walled-off fortress.
"Partners," Andras scoffed, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. He looked away, staring at the shadows in the corner of the room. "Yeah. Like I could trust someone like you with my plans. Don't flatter yourself, kid. You're just another asset to be managed."
He turned his back on Zac, his greatcoat swirling around him. "Go find your lion. He's probably crying over his conditioner somewhere."
"I think he might be crushed to death," Zac called out to the corsair's back, gesturing vaguely at the rubble pile. "Just saying. Mane conditioner might be the least of his worries."
Andras didn't respond. He began to pull the shadows around himself like a cloak, the darkness in the room deepening and swirling at his feet. He was clearly preparing for his brooding exit.
"Anyways," Zac continued, undeterred. "Not dying to a Wile E. Coyote style trap would be nice. I'm good with secrets. You can trust me."
The owl stopped. His head turned 180 degrees with that unnerving click to sneer at Zac. "That remains to be seen. Someone who spreads their legs as wide as you do often spreads their lips just as easily."
Zac nodded thoughtfully. "If you're into that, just give me some time to make sure I clean up a bit first. Hygiene is important for ass to-."
Andras's feathers ruffled violently, puffing out until he looked like an angry, fluffy storm cloud. He turned his body around to match his head, abandoning his exit. "Like you could even take it like I give it," he snarled, stepping closer. "A little virgin like you would be wailing and sobbing before I even got going."
"Oh yeah?" Zac stepped forward, matching the owl's energy, chest to chest. "You'd make me cry, huh? Pull my hair a bit so everyone else could hear me begging?"
"Yeah," Andras hooted, a dangerous light in his eyes. "I'd fuck you right against Marchosias's door. Let the whole keep hear you break."
"Oh, hell yes," Zac breathed, his eyes dilated. "I'd be wailing for the Captain that I was being defiled, and he would probably rip the door down to stop you."
Andras's hand shot out, grabbing Zac's arm and yanking him close. His beak was inches from Zac's face, his breath hot and smelling of smoke. "Good thing you're a tight little thing," he hissed. "Because I'm not concerned with your pleasure. Only mine."
Zac felt his heart flutter, not with fear, but with pure, undiluted thrill. He leaned in, closing his eyes, tilting his head up for a kiss.
"I love you," he whispered.
The effect was instantaneous. Andras looked like he had been shocked by a high-voltage cable. His eyes went wide, his feathers stood straight up, and his grip on Zac's arm spasmed.
"What?!" he squawked.
Before Zac could land the kiss, the owlman vanished. He dissolved into his shadow so fast it created a vacuum.
Zac, leaning his full weight into a demon who was no longer there, fell forward. He landed face-first on the stone floor, directly into a pile of dead, crunchy insects left over from the earlier battle.
"Gross," Zac mumbled into the bug carpet. "Worth it, though."
Zac picked himself up off the floor and took a moment to survey the scene. The hallway was a masterpiece of carnage. To his left lay the decapitated body of the warthog demon, still twitching slightly. To his right, a headless meerkat. The floor was carpeted in a layer of dead, crunchy insects that crunched sickeningly under his boots. Further down, the corridor was blocked by tons of rubble where Andras had collapsed the ceiling on Nock's unsuspecting movers.
His stomach rumbled, a loud, demanding growl echoing in the silent hall. But that wasn't the only biological function he had left to wither.
A giddy smile spread across his face. He had almost kissed the dashing, dangerous demon. He had felt the heat of Andras's body, the strength in that grip, the delightful friction of his feathers.
'Oh, he is so playing hard to get,' Zac thought, practically skipping over a severed demon arm. 'The whole "we can't be partners because I'm so bad and untrustworthy" routine? Classic bad boy defense mechanism. He's terrified of intimacy. I can fix him. I can absolutely fix him.'
He rubbed his hands together gleefully. 'And then,' his mind wandered into forbidden territory, 'I finally get to see what owl dick looks like. Is it cloacal? Is there a hemipenis situation? The scientific community demands answers, and I am willing to do the field research.'
He checked his pocket, ensuring the bottle of Celestial Silk conditioner was safe. That was his ticket to Nock later. But for now, he had a more pressing engagement.
He needed to find his room.
If all the demons were busy at the moment… Marchosias brooding, Skarg on fire, Bune cleaning up, Halphas working out, Nock digging himself out of rubble, and Andras fleeing from emotional vulnerability, then Zac could be busy too. Busy thinking about getting busy with the demons.
He dusted the bug parts off his robes with a few brisk swipes, adjusted his collar, and marched off down the hallway with renewed purpose.
"Alright, Castle," he announced to the empty, blood-stained air. "Show me the bedroom. Demon-seed dumpster needs some alone time."
He turned a corner, leaving the carnage behind, humming a cheerful tune as he ventured deeper into the labyrinth, ready to locate his quarters and vigorously appreciate his new afterlife.