“It’s not really likely you’ll get an adequate amount of sleep,” Glory said to Will as he looked directly at the rising sun.

“Mmph,” said Will, hopping back into the chariot. “That sounds about right.”

The chariot began to move again, having waited for Will and Glory to return. This meant they were behind schedule to return to town.

Will sat down at the very back of the chariot’s abdomen, putting his weight on his knees as he rested his elbows on the pillow-lined back rim.

“I’m not gay,” said Will, apropos of nothing.

“I’ve never contested that fact,” said Glory calmly.

“I know,” said Will, his tone just slightly defensive. “You’re being pedantic. You know what I actually mean.”

“I do,” said Glory. “But you’re not being entirely honest, either. You’re scared that I’m right.”

“I really, really hate that you can read my mind,” Will said. “It’s like I’m in therapy again, except I can’t even keep things to myself.”

“I’m not a therapist, although I did do something similar when I was younger. Therapy isn’t really a profession here.”

“Why’s that?” Will asked, because he’d correctly intuited that Glory wanted to be asked that, and this shifted the conversation away from Will.

“That’s what we—that is, angels and demons—do. Part of it, anyways.”

“Why would anyone go to a demon for therapy?” Will asked.

Glory flapped his wings in approximation of a shrug. “You’d be surprised. Demons are creatures of selfishness and sin, but sometimes people need that.”

“It’s possible to be too generous just as it is possible to be too greedy,” Glory continued. “Most of us would probably be considered pretty bad therapists by your standards.”

“Because you have sex with your clients?” Will asked automatically.

“That’s one of the reasons, yes.” Glory said diplomatically. “But it’s also about methods. A common practice for demons is to offer literal magical contracts to enforce certain behavior, for example.”

“I think that would be pretty popular actually,” Will said.

“You know more about it than me,” Glory said with another wing-shrug. “I’m only pulling from your understanding of the world.”

“You know, the way you talk sometimes, it’s easy to forget that,” Will said.

Glory laughed flatly. “Maybe someday I’ll learn about it in person.”

“Maybe,” Will said doubtfully. “You may have to conceal your identity, though.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“On the internet, nobody knows you’re an angel from another dimension,” Glory said with a rueful smile.

“That reminds me,” Will said. “You have a twin and at least two other brothers. How many siblings do you have?”

“Six,” said Glory. “Four demons, including Perish, and two angels, who you’ve already met and both my only younger brothers. All of my older brothers, the demons sans Perish, are half-siblings.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Will said.

“You have no idea,” agreed Glory.

“Is Glory complaining about his family life again?” Virgil asked groggily, clearly only just waking up.

“Only a little,” Glory said.

Virgil laughed dully, stretching to wake himself up. “Cripes, it’s chilly. Are we still not back into town?”

“We got held up by my family life during the night,” Glory said. “We should be back in Wolf’s Whistle in less than an hour.”

“Good. I’m beginning to forget what warmth feels like,” Virgil said. “The gnoll had coffee, right?”

“Hot chocolate,” Glory corrected. “Although currently it’s fifty seven degrees chocolate.”

“I’m going to die. Death by lack of coffee.” Virgil lamented in a tone both melodramatic and flat.

Glory pulled a clay mug of hot coffee from a hole in space and handed it to Virgil. A puff of bitter-smelling steam wafted from it.

“Thank you, Glory,” Virgil said, taking a deep swig.

“The cafe on sixth street will be expecting their cup back, so don’t break it.”

“You seem to be in good spirits,” Will said.

“Hm?” Virgil said, putting down the already-empty mug. “Yes, I guess I am. I didn’t realize how tense I had been.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Will asked, again convinced that getting Virgil to talk about his feelings would delay having to talk about his own.

“I think so,” said Virgil after a pause. “I think… I think we might actually be able to do it. Save the world, I mean.”

“Were you not before now?” Will asked.

Virgil made a noncommittal gesture. “I wasn’t sure. I thought I was, and now I know I am. I think we’re making good progress.”

“We haven’t even gotten the flower we were supposed to get to send me home,” said Will doubtfully.

“Yeah, but you’re not going home just yet,” said Virgil. “You’ve already made up your mind.”

Will felt suddenly heated. “Well, when you put it like that it makes me want to leave, so choose your next words very carefully.”

“I’m over my little crush on you,” said Virgil.

“Oh,” said Will, cooling rapidly. “Okay. Because of this conversation, or…?”

“I just am,” Virgil said. “It wasn’t the result of anything specific. I guess it’s just sunk in that you won’t ever feel the same way.”

“Okay,” said Will. He played out the responses he might say in his mind’s eye, looking for one that ended this conversation with minimal drama. “That’s good, I guess.”

It was good, wasn’t it? Will didn’t like that awkward feeling that permeated interactions with the halfling. He should have felt at least relieved, but he found himself feeling nothing at all. Not bad or good, just nothing.

“I still like you!” Virgil said consolingly. “You’re my friend. We… are friends, aren’t we?”

Will blinked in surprise at the question. “Yeah, of course. We’re friends. I like you as a friend. Just friends. Not weird at all.”

Will managed to convince himself that it didn’t feel like a lie.