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Murray was late.

Prosper stood at the edge of a curb, checking and double checking the time on his cellphone. It was already quarter past. The show had been over for half an hour, and there was still no sign of his driver. It did not occur to Prosper to be concerned or frightened. He was simply irritated, and already daydreaming about all of the passive aggressive ways he was going to not explain to Murray how unacceptable his tardiness was.

A pair of rowdy teenagers crossed the street nearby, sharing a flask and smoking something Prosper suspected was illegal. He pursed his lips, violet eyes flickering to a nearby lamppost when a shadow crossed his path. A heartbeat later Prosper realized that the brush of warm air against the back of his neck was not the wind.

It was somebody's breath. Followed closely by a set of words that set his teeth on edge, and made his heart quicken.

Oh, gross.

"More than once," Prosper said, voice very carefully cordial. He stepped to the side, thumb hovering over the 'call' button on his cellphone. He glanced sideways at Kerberos, face blank. "Your concern is unnecessary, but I thank you for it all the same. My driver will be here any moment."

This? A warning veiled inside good manners. Prosper did not pretend to know a whole lot about psychos who crawled out of dark alleys to harass unsuspecting heirs, but he suspected it was best for this one to know that he would not be alone for much longer.

People like Kerberos were a large part of the reason Prosper did not even like to go out during the day. He stiffened when the other man violated his personal bubble, lips tight, and pressed his thumb to the 'call' button at the same time those slender fingers brushed along the soft skin of his arm.

The stranger's touch was unbidden, unwelcome and... unlike anything Prosper had ever felt before. He stared, jaw falling slightly open, eyes reflecting the little orb of light that Kerberos had pulled out of him. His mouth felt dry, eyes suddenly a little tired.

'... brrr-ing!...'

"Wait. Don't come any closer. If you do that again you'll be sorry." Prosper spoke with more authority than he felt, backing away from Keberos at the same time he pressed his cellphone to his ear.

It rang twice more before Murray denied the call. Prosper gaped at the screen, paling so thoroughly that the freckles on his cheeks disappearred. Several things occurred to him at once. The first was that nobody had ever been more fired than Murray was. The second was that he was probably going to die. On a corner. In the middle of the theatre district. After a performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream best described as mediocre. And that was being generous.

He clutched the phone to his chest and then-- took off. Prosper flew down the sidewalk with his heart in his throat, desperate for an escape, not knowing if he would find one. In high school Prosper was a star on the race track, and it showed in the way he carried himself as he ran. He was fast and light on his feet, but did not get very far before a limousine turned the corner up ahead and rolled up to idle in front of Kerberos.

Sleek and black and familiar, it reminded Prosper of home, and filled him with hope.

"Murray!" he called, only slightly out of breath, waving for his driver to come pick him the ******** up. "Murray, oh thank god."

In his relief Prosper forgot all about being angry. He didn't know if Keberos had followed him, but he didn't really care, because Murray had shown up. Murray was the best driver ever...

... Murray was rolling down his window and ashing his cigarette on the road. A sleazy redhead with too much make up sat on the seat next to him. Shrieks of feminine laughter radiated from the back, and a blonde woman popped out of the moon roof, waving her bra around in the air.

"Murray. You're not supposed to smoke in the car," was all Prosper could think of to say.

"Kerby-baby," Proustite's twinkling gaze flickered from Prosper to the Senshi of Asphodels. His lips twitched at the corners. "Nice date."

He took a drag of his cigarette.

"I can show you where he lives."

"I do what I can." Murray --Proustite?-- twinkled at Kerberos, exhaling smoke and aplomb. The woman in the passenger's seat leaned in close, murmured something in his ear that Prosper couldn't hear. His eyes followed the back of her slender hand where it came to rest on Proustite's chest, bright red fingernails playing like claws along the lapels of the chauffeur's jacket Prosper was only just realizing Proustite wore over top of something else.

It was then that Prosper became aware of the fingers at his spine. He stiffened, freckled cheeks darkening with blood and horror... and maybe a little bit of something else, but Prosper would die before he admitted to being anything other than affronted by the quality of the voice at his ear.

"He's got some pretty nice digs," Proustite drawled, pausing a moment to let the redhead stick her tongue in his mouth. Prosper pursed his lips and started to turn away, but paused when he realized it would bring him face to face with Kerberos. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and Proustite continued to speak, a little bit breathless, "there's a heated pool."

"You can't show him where I live," Prosper said, sounding more confident than he felt. He averted his gaze from Kerberos' mouth and reached out to pluck the cigarette from Proustite's outstretched fingers, and crushed it beneath his foot. "You're fired, Murray! And you can forget about any letters of recommendation! Get out of my car."

Proustite blinked at the space between his fingers, and then started to laugh. The sound of it attracted the attention of the blonde woman hanging out of the moon roof, but only for a moment, because the next she was throwing up over the side.

Prosper turned towards Kerberos, bright eyes pleading. He didn't understand how these men planned to take his energy, but he knew enough to be afraid.

"Look, I've got money." He reached for his wallet, hands shaking. "I'll give you whatever you want."

Unbidden, a memory came to Prosper then; a vision of Ricky, naked in his backyard and swimming in his pool with a trampy redhead. They were kissing when Prosper shouted at them to stop, and his own cheeks had been pink. With jealousy, and a little bit of something else.

Pink like they were now.

Prosper listened carefully to Kerberos, poised like a hare that didn't know which way to flee with his hand still hovering above his wallet. His mother's credit cards glittered inside. He considered his options, tried to weigh the pros and cons. It was clear to Prosper that he had stumbled into something that he had no context for understanding. He was reminded of the time that he had died in outter space, and all of the horors that had happened before that.

But that was just a dream.

And there was nothing imaginary about the way that Kerberos was making him feel, drawing... energy?... away from his body like a leech in a pond.

"Just a bit?"

His had never been a courageous heart. Prosper was spoiled rotten and proud, but not brave, and the little bit of anger he'd discovered in the face of Murray's betrayal was nothing compared to the fear that coursed through his veins now. If Kerberos meant what he said, then it... it made sense to surrender.

"Okay," Prosper exhaled, after a moment, blinking owlishly at Kerberos. He wanted to punch Kerberos in the face. Wanted to stamp on Proustite's fingers. Wanted to fix the front of the redhead's dress. Oh, honey, that's so unseemly. "Okay. Okay. Just. Don't kill me."

Proustite heaved a great sigh. His dissappointment was so great that his head rolled backwards and his shoulders sank.

"Come on, fight him a little bit," Proustite said, reaching to pluck the wad of cash out of Prosper's open wallet. "Don't be so ******** boring, freckles."

The girl in the front seat smacked Proustite gently on the arm. "You're so mean," and then lifted a hand to her mouth to hide a burp. Too late, Prosper thought, somehow managing to feel both disgusted by and grateful towards her.

"Here, baby, have some more wine." Proustite dug a bottle out from underneath his seat. She took it from him gratefully and tried pulling the cork with her teeth.

"HEY," the shirtless blonde dangling out of the moon roof waved her arms for Kerberos' attention, "Are you guys getting in or -hic- not? I. AM..." she paused to think, "... DRUNK."