"-and that's when this senior citizen said 'that's the wrong hole, you uncultured buffoon-'" Ken paused, cheeks flushed above four empty pitchers, his eyes looking around the table conspiratorially, meaty paw pulling Mikael closer to him, "-the skeeball goes in the machine, not the mascot!"

Brock burst into laughter, Aphrodite joining him as Mikael waved off the embarrassing anecdote with his free hand, Ken chortling uproariously at being the butt of his own joke. The oversized office worker reached down and plucked one of the countless appetizers off the multiple trays covering their table in a smorgasbord of food, gulping it down with relish.

"But enough about us relics, eh?" He winked at Brock. "What weird shit have you two been up to?"

"We went," Brock hiccoughed, "to a place that served the worst hot chocolate I've ever had!"

Ken almost spat out his next dim sum bite.

"Please tell me you didn't go to Chad's!"

"Chad," Brock started-

"-is the fucking worst!" Aphrodite and Mikael finished in unison. "That asshole would serve half a stingray in a cup if it meant he got to go surfing half a second earlier!"

The table devolved into self-absorbed hilarity, and a nondescript horse-headed server appeared to clear out the empty pitchers.

"Another round for the group?"

"Of course!" Ken roared. "This one's my treat!"

Mikael disengaged himself from the heavy arm holding him tight, words slurring.

"Ignore the meathead. I'll cover it. It's my turn anyways."

Mikael waved his magiphone at the server, and Ken punched the icy swordmaster's shoulder genially.

"You're the best, Mika. Next one's mine, I swear."

"Sure, sure."

Aphrodite raised her mug as the server snapped his fingers, causing a new pitcher to appear, brimful with amber liquid. She tipped her vacant glass at Ken.

"So you and the Blade- hicurp- excuse me, you and Mikael have been friends for how long now?"

Mikael answered as Ken busied himself emptying the newly appeared pitcher into everyone's empty steins.

"Ken and I have known each other for, oh," the graying swordmaster glanced over at the cheerfully burly man busy refilling everyone's drink, "I don't even know. Ever since I can remember."

"And even before that," Ken added with a chuckle. "We've always been friends."

"Thass right," Mikael agreed, reaching for his newly filled glass. "Best friends." He leaned against Ken, who pushed him away from his broad shoulder with a laugh, but not hard enough to spill Mikael's refilled mug.

"You're such a lightweight, considering the weight you carry, Mika."

"'s only metal." Mikael took a heavy swig, free hand absently patting the scabbard propped next to him. "Broken metal and broken dreams." His glass barely made it back down to the tabletop before his head joined it, a near simultaneous impact of bone and beverage. He began to snore softly.

"Looks like someone needs to be cut off," Ken toasted Brock and Aphrodite, downing half his own recently refilled drink and retrieving another dumpling. "He gets maudlin in his cups."

Brock stared at his slightly drooling minder, passed out on the table surface between the plates of appetizers. His own head was spinning, and it was hard to focus. A nap sounded good. He fumbled for his mug instead. Somehow there was liquid in it again.

"I think it might be a little late for that. He drunk looks. Uhhh, looks drunk."

"You must have run him ragged today," Ken grinned. "Anything exciting happen?"

"My brain exploded."

Brock took another drink, finding his mouth on the second try, then looked over the glass at Ken's confused expression. The big man twirled a finger in his ear, cleaning it as if he hadn't heard Brock properly.

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"Your brain... exploded?"

"From seeing all the odd stuff in the city," Aphrodite interjected smoothly, a slight flush at her cheeks the only evidence of the endless drinks she'd been downing. She tapped Brock's collar with her nail, producing a slight ting. "You know how it is - new kid seeing the bright lights for the first time. It's a lot to take in."

"Uhhh, yeah, exactly," Brock stammered. "Someone tried to sell me a tentacle thing."

"Ahh, that makes more sense," Ken chuckled. "I don't think anyone's powerful enough to shrug off a literally exploded brain."

"Haha, yeah, that would be weird," Brock agreed weakly, then took another drink to have an excuse to do something with his mouth. Ken glanced over at Aphrodite, her glass empty again, and shook his head.

"I don't know where you're putting those," he told her in a bemused tone. "You have a hollow leg or something?"

"Something like that," Aphrodite smiled back lazily, lounging against the booth backrest in a seductive manner. "There's all sorts of skills involved with entertaining properly." She stretched out her arm, letting her hand come to rest on the back of Brock's neck, and he felt a tingle run through him.

"Mrp," he managed to squeak out, and Ken burst out laughing once again.

"It's weird as fuck seeing an expression like that on Starak's face, I'm not gonna lie. How'd you end up connected with Mikael, anyways? He's never said anything to me about visiting Softheart's place."

Brock didn't hear Aphrodite's answer, the sudden reminder of his stolen body momentarily clearing the pleasant drunken haze with an icy shock. He became painfully aware of Aphrodite's smooth skin still resting on his own. It felt... nice.

I'm... Aphrodite is just playing a role, right? So Ken doesn't suspect who she really is?

His treacherous mind chose that moment to recall the previous time she had touched him and he tried to banish the abrupt fantasies threatening to invade his thoughts.

But she was into me at that weird street festival before she even knew who I was... argh, no, that was her using a skill! ...but what if she really is into me?

Brock desperately attempted to return his attention to the ongoing conversation between Ken and Aphrodite.

"-have to say, you're far more accepting than most people," Aphrodite was saying. "When I'm not working, most people won't even sit at the same table if I go to a bar."

"Don't get me wrong, Venus," Ken frowned, "I think Sekkies as a whole are disgusting. I've done the paperwork for enough cases to know what they're like." He finished off his drink, then gently placed the glass back down. "But I also know there are exceptions, and if Mika vouches for you, well, then I trust his judgment." His frown morphed into his customary smile. "I'd be a shitty friend if I didn't believe my buddy when he says someone's worth getting to know, regardless of who they are."

"You're a food grend," Brock blurted, struck by Ken's words. "A real..." he concentrated on enunciating properly this time, "good... friend." He giggled at successfully completing the sentence, then started listing to the side as the room began spinning faster.

Ken peered at him, then pointed his finger.

"And as a good friend, I'm cutting you off as well. Otherwise your night's going to be a lot shorter than you're expecting, right?"

He winked at Brock, who stared back dumbly.

"Can't leave. Hafta stay with Mikael. 's important." Brock giggled again. "He's like... part of me. 's my shadow."

Ken rolled his eyes.

"I'll take care of the old geezer, you idiot. He'd just be a third wheel between you two anyways." He reached over and pulled the booth door open, motioning for them to leave. "Go on, go have fun. It won't be the first time he's crashed on my couch."

Before Brock could respond, his magiphone zipped out over the table, then hovered by the door.

"Brock! Let's go home! You have a busy day tomorrow! Turn right here!"

"I thought it was my day off tomorrow," Brock grumbled, trying not to fall over in his attempts to slide out of the booth. Aphrodite helped him from behind, and he eventually made it to a standing position. "Don't see why I hafta listen to you."

"I'm here to help you Brock!" The magiphone narrowly missed smacking Brock in the ear as it did a tight circle around his head. "I know five thousand, three hundred and seventy two sexual positions! There's-"

"Thanks for the drinks," Aphrodite called back drily to a doubled over Ken, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes as he guffawed uncontrollably. Brock flailed feebly at the magiphone dancing in front of his face, detailed illustrations scrolling along its surface accompanied by Bindy's upbeat demonstrations. Eventually he made it out the front door, leaning heavily on Aphrodite's shoulder to counteract the askew world too many drinks had left him in, and Bindy mercifully swooped back into his coat pocket with one last upside down hipthrust.

"'m tired," Brock mumbled as they stood in the cool night air, the ever present crowds moving along the sidewalks.

"You're drunk," Aphrodite agreed pleasantly, circling his hips with her arm and shifting him into a walk. "Come on, let's get you home."

The trip back passed in a jumbled haze, Brock's awareness only able to focus on the warm arm pressing against his back and the steady hand holding his side. At some point the flesh rippled slightly, and his head lolled over to see Aphrodite had resumed her previous form, chestnut curls framing her violet eyes.

"Look nice," he said amiably. "Pretty."

"I know."

An indeterminate time later, they were in the second floor hallway of Lady Razoralia's apartment building, and Brock felt Aphrodite take her arm away. They faced each other, respective doors at their backs. Brock felt his heart beat faster as they locked eyes.

"Thanks," he stammered, "for, uhhh, getting me home. Us home. Thanks. 'm glad you came."

She studied him intently, then gave him a gentle push on his right shoulder, turning him towards his apartment door.

"Get some sleep, Brock. We'll talk in the morning."

Brock felt a wave of disappointment, but it was muted beneath the effects of drink and drowsiness. He reached out for his door, pushing it open.

"Okay. G'night, Aphrodite."

As he stumbled into his living room, a quiet voice came from behind him.

"Good night, Brock. Thanks for including me."

His door clicked shut, and he collapsed face first on the couch.