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Albite was laid out on a yoga mat in his bosses office. Not really even stretching at this point, snacking on vegi-sticks and playing with the company tablet. An idea struck through the thickest parts of his head. It wormed around in the meat of his 'high on endorphins' after doing any kinda activity thoughts.

He suddenly needed to see Fafnir. More than a passing want, more than a bubble of interest with a vague sorta gossamer front to it. No monsters to chase, no aliens. He wanted to do people s**t. Like real a** human-beings did.

Albite felt like the door had opened and let loose a fresh winters breeze, he shivered for it - muttered a curse about nippy witches tits under his breath. <******** *Fafnir*, a man so ice cold he shoulda burst into flames - the kind that burnt like dry ice and took skin with it worse n a scald. Albite felt that familiar thrill of fear that became other - shitfaced chemicals that twisted in his hindbrain and got spat back out labeled ‘********’ instead of the far more appropriate ‘******** the hell off’.

Whatever.

“Fafnir” said it like he said ‘sup’ or ‘hi’, easy n slow, a circling shark of a thing. “How do you feel about taking five minutes to play at being a person today….or does the world got your d**k in a knot?”

With a ribbon, a threat, a leash made of weighty chain, pinned back.

*What do you want? Why don’t you take it? Do you wanna play?*

Lingered, echoed, bounced away in albites mind as he flashed a smile that ran a mile and seemed to hold too many teeth. A nice little challenge lain like a flagrant gauntlet at the most mace wielding maidens feet.

He wasn’t sure if he was the reason for Fafnirs mood. If he’d gotten his texts. If the Senshi who’s powers he knew had something to do with poison would kick him into the dirt and slam the door.

He could only hope — for something, anything, everything!!

Always,always,always everything - please.

Fafnir wanted reasons - important things, people, places. s**t that was never ******** for *himself*. Albite found it strange and grating, got caught up on the shiny little threads of intrigue that oozed outta the icy-dragon with every bland hiss and uninterested side eye. Albite sized him up, really just, looked on - felt his sharpness soften as he crossed his arms beneath his heaving bosom, barely bound, huffed a little humm for the challenge inherent in *this*. In Fafnir.

"Are 'you' not a good enough reason, Fafnir? Does it have to always be..like..alien's run amuck and hunting hellfire through the Rift? Not that I can't do that s**t, like, all godamned day long. I can." he loved it, lived for it, and his blood ******** sung and seared for all the ways he could get a good time out of a good fight - a training session - out of just ******** around while on a hunt for, for what? More of the same? New friends, enemies, boys - girls - the world of people above an below that he could meet. Even if it was just for the seconds worth of joy that he always ascribed to the newness of a thing.

"You're never gonna have what you don't make time for. N we've got lifetimes on our side of 'doing s**t' just for the sake of 'getting it done'. We're Senshi, remember? Kinda-sorta people adjacent when you get down to the particulars of it...stuff of the stars...n sometimes? That means we get to do what we please. That means you, n me, n doing -- ******** whatever gets you outta this coffin of a box for five minutes." and Albite smiled like he'd done a clever trick, like he was ready for whatever words Fafnir had ready to lay up.

There was meaning in 'em, yeah, but Albite had made a working of making himself a pleasing nuisance. Born fire and threat and friend turning foe...so he could take Fafnir's frostbite, even if he lost a finger or toe to it. It was *Worth it*. Fafnir, was worth his ******** time, seconds and minutes of it, even more than that if he'd let him have it. Either as a friend - as a s**t-heel thorn underfoot.

*Touch* that stole his focus - the press of Fafnirs graceful, well
manicured nails; he followed the length of them - endless blues like a sea - straight to those eyes. Even prettier when they were narrowed in challenge.

If he’d had plans? They were no more.

He was all ears and attentiveness while a warm sort of light danced across his eyes, like a mix of unfettered eagerness and coming to heel at once. The coy smirk fled his face, replaced with something more hopefully curious. Soft, like the way he took Fanfirs offered hand.

*Cause he wanted —*

To get his leash tugged and his bell rung. For fafnir to exert some of his effortlessly graceful power, and if the prince of poison and bedroom eyes that promised him a good time wanted to lay a challenge out like that? Wanted to take the lead and see him follow? To test the limits on how far - how high - Oh, that was all sorts of ‘******** yes’ as far as Albite was concerned.

“Heh, sure thing Faf’. If that’s what you want?” If Fafnir wanted the Senshi or the man? He was sure he’d clarify; in that moment it was easier to be other. To drop the guise of power so he could be a person - easy and pliant - ready to go. “Then that’s what you’ll have. Waruhiu Ushundi, at your service. Tho Waru works just fine —“ had he told him his name before? Did he know already from his position mired in creating people shaped paperwork so everyone else could lead normal lives?

Whatever - it didn’t matter nearly as much as Fafnir mentioning his mother, inviting him into something so decidedly in the realms of being the other Senshis world that he was willing to put his image on the line, just to have him attend on his arm.

Could’ve been a play, or a board meeting, or a meal at Fafs dinner table. He didn’t know what it was — he didn’t care enough to ask — so long as it was for Fafnir? Out of that office - out of the citadel?

That’d be enough for him.

In all his life he'd never been rich, his mother sold shells and managed tourist s**t. His father had been an uninteresting blank slate of a middling business-man type. A pair of passing happenstances that tripped over each other between flight delays, and even if his sisters who came after him were only his by half? He loved them fully. He wondered, then, if the lack being born to it had created a knack for knowing? He found wealthy men like a dousing rod found water - so only half the time and with a fair bit more luck than skill. And yet? He wasn't sure he needed any. Not when they littered the city like used wrappers. When he tripped over them, utterly unawares.

It could've just been that he had a type. Those that came from money and their castoff jaded sons -- as if it were a quality which bred sharp eyes and sharper eyeliner? Made blades of tongues and knives of minds. All those stunning intelligent types that had all the right sort of menace to meet the worlds malice with, because they had something to prove which their money couldn't buy? Even if it wasn't something he wanted for his own? He was ******** over the moon to fall into it - every time - Waru never learned from being bitten. How true did that prove when he was standing in a garage that never saw half finished projects or people changing their own oil...

Bright, sleek, beautiful, and he'd wondered that Fafnir was ever granted poison when his colors ran so cold --- until now.

Fafnir, no - Trey - and wasn't that name just ******** tasty?! The man gained a level of intrigue. Of sparked looks that held a hunger for answers. Hearing 'fashion' immediately made him think of his best boy 'Cela', that if Faffl's was open to it, maybe it'd be a good hook up for the budding designer? That bit got stowed in the back of his brain for later, though.

"Sure thing Trey, there's worse ways to die than riding shotgun in an Avalon." the glance for the sleek piece of steel, the glean of color set to match. A low whistle of praise -- not for the vehicle though - no - for the man, because all the well polished bling didn't spark nearly as many questions as the carefully curated way Trey held himself. His neat mannerisms, and crisp, well tailored lines.

Waru wanted to get them blurry. Messy. Later...

"Is Mrs. Faure French? Oh, does she look like you! Also - side question - what am I gonna be? Like...ah..to you, yanno, in this..." half a wave between them, quick ask in low tones as he slid into the passenger seat, and Waru nearly contemplated riding b***h the back and splaying out like he owned the thing -- but! "...I figure I should ask the questions 'now'. Though? If it's just taking easy orders, you can always keep surprising me." and Waru gave himself legroom while Trey was on the phone. Tuned into how the man was all business manners and calling up - maybe it was Marie? Who was he to know. That was the blessing of being himself, unburdened with all the worries he didn't have to carry.

Able to sit back and take on only the responsibilities which mattered to him the most. Like picking apart what he wanted to ask versus what he needed to ask, pairing it down...which was a tricky ******** thing to do, but he could! Even if he wanted to press for all the ways it was interesting that Trey was driving himself. So - money, yeh? But also pride enough to not get chauffeured all over the place.

Heh, an independent boy with too much business on his plate. With a mother to ********. Waru was going to search her up n get the basics, to sit giddy over the absolute thrill of not knowing what the ******** he was getting himself into with this one.

Ooh, but did he ever have questions. A deserts worth of them, if Trey had been rain? A torrent? A downpour? Would that have been enough, even then? If the man at his side had opened up with a deluge of answers for every inanity Waru thought to possibly ask.

Such an interesting ********, the way he exuded all work n no play. Born with a silver spoon shoved in every hole — but he didn’t bear it like some spoilt rich kid. Nah, acted like a man who’d sweat n bled to earn it — sacrificed — oh so very much.

For family, for love? For dignity and prowess?

So Waru bit his tongue initially, admired the pedigree, the view. Rolled the window down n felt the one whip by; purred for the smooth handling. The vast scenery. Trimmings that screamed old money and old values.

“Just the one, the ******** is it you aren’t married off, Trey?” He could keep the promise of being a platonic other, all the fun in that, could keep Treys dearest brothers name right the hell out his mouth; easy to do when he sat deadpan n stunned riding sidecar. All sorts of hooked, tuned in to half listening about — a fitting - sizes…

Modeling?! That got a widening grin n side-eye, glean of surprise for where he took a deeper breath at the idea of being on display. Such a curious favor! ******** hell, was he even more into it!

“You’ve got the trifecta going on, should be dime pieces n dames adozen dripping off your arm,” all languished purr as he settled back into the feel of the engines thrum n soft seats. Played with the air-current between his fingers. “though, I suppose it’s no business of mine what kinda company you keep, yeh? ******** - you should really just - come work for our Firebrand? This is me shilling, throwing a line, cause someone as valuable as you? Deserves to be stolen outta — whatever box you’re in now. People who are better deserve better, n all that.” a nebulous stirring of digits in the air, his gaze drifted from the surroundings to Fafnir himself - to Trey. Stunning little veneer of a man; deserved the world below as good as above, hell - he deserved it better than the rest.

N Waru lacked all the ways to explain how he didn’t mean money, or power, or fame and aptitude to get s**t done. Ohno, all the things that made Trey a person of value - that he could see with his own two eyes by staring solely at him. The most valuable thing on that whole property, in the car?

Was the man driving it.

He hadn't known, but now? Filed Trey's age away, only a few years between him, n Ei, n -- he sounded far too exhausted for someone his age. Twenty-five going on Sixty-two, and with whatever kinda immaculate skincare regiment he had? Trey'd probably never show it. Except in the fine lines round his frown, the corners of his eyes, those high cheekbones n higher brows that'd make waves botox would have to smooth out...someday...

"Those poor fools who miss all the most important parts huh? You must tear 'em apart." wishful thinking on Trey's behalf. Waru thought, a guy like him? Deserved some sliver of good beyond big boxes -- beyond even the biggest, bestest, brightest of boxes the agency had to offer.

If that was what he wanted though? Then he wished it for him.

At least the poor guy was getting something in between! He didn't know what he would've done without ten-thousand people on call; not even just for the sleeping. Nah. He needed people to gossip with, to spend tenuous hours doing not ******** all around while sharing meals, n smiles, n blanket-forts piled high with bodies n snack bowls; long moments cuddling between couch cushions to the staticky serenade of ceaseless movies.

"Or you should? Cause I know you do good work, Firebrand does too. Calls you classy, smart, professional. Marks you for more n'a good looking coin purse. Heh, hence the 'poach-ability'." warm encouragement offered freely, a gaze that lingered the lines of well tailored hem's, to the pressed collar curled round Trey's pale throat. He admired him, like Trey was some sorta fine wine worth the time it took to let breathe; to sip n savor instead of guzzle down like cheap sewer swill.

By some stroke of magic this man had his attention without even trying. Stood there, raised a brow sternly, n bam! All his interests were hooked clean through. Waru knew for fact he had Eions eye as well, it was an indisputable thing. Take boy, add pretty, then sprinkle on the air of unattainability? No better trap had ever been laid for his General than this.

"Hell, if you showed up n' said 'I'm working for you now', he'd spontaneously combust-- which is a ******** s i g h t. I highly recommend witnessing that at least once in your life," wistful sigh that spoke of first hand experiences, and a boundless love for the dangers inherent in exploring such things carelessly.

Waru liked Trey's next question, liked every word that fell outta the mans clever mouth, but especially about their team dynamics. How much easier it was to expound on his teammates than himself sometimes. The burbling of pride he felt, bone-deep, for every single one of them. Even those that'd come n gone. How could he deny Nemb's cleverness in ghosting out without a trace? Or Lysi finding her way back into pearly-whites without so much as a memory to her name.

"Teams fairly Senshi-heavy right now. Enough that we've gotten two cats onboard. Mostly working between Axinite n' Hess, though I know quite a few that came in through Lep', myself included? Everyone else ********, vicious, lovely, kind. They all carry the lions share of maintaining the s**t I just, frankly, don't care to do." he could've curled up n purred in that seat, for how warm his tone was, watching cars n dotted lines fly by like a blurr, letting his gaze fall ever often back to Trey's pale fingers curled round a sleek wheel. "The same way you do good in a box? I do good outsida one..s'ah good trade off between us. If I play quota fetching, n handling the usual dynamics, while they put out words, n files, n secrety things." he swatted thoughts like flies. Danced between tangents n the variety of ideas that made him happiest to expound upon.

"But - but but but...Me n Faustite? One word -- *Cookies*, but before the cookies? I met him outsidea the Hall of Shadows; he was this thin thing, all bleeding blacks n faded candleflames. Don't know what either of us were expecting? But I had a job to do, being a Basic...Overdid it, probably, but I don't think he minded too much right then? N it just went from there. Till I was demanding him for missions. Till I was kicking in his door n offering up my soul on a whim...." all awe, no regrets, the slightest bit of severity leveled in the run on sentences he slid in Treys direction, leveled over the engines quiet humm n rush of surroundings kept quietly outside. "I know a good thing when I see it, Trey. Most of the time. Like to think I'm persistent enough to pursue the right things. Heh, smart enough, even? To tell a real gem from polished s**t." a stipulation because he was human, fallible, overzealous and hungry. He thought he knew good. One side or another. Hunted it down, bloodhound style. He couldn't've left Faustite alone anymore than he could've left Aqua alone, or hell, Trey? Kama? Any of the rest -- it was unthinkable, no matter the outcome.

All those signs that read Sharks - but had the most beautiful shorelines. Waru figured so long as he respected whichever waters he swam in? He'd come out mostly unscathed while having experienced something totally worthwhile.

Casual as they came, Waru suppressed a shudder for the rush of cool air that greeted him upon entry — endless miles of gleaming lines in that pristine space, polished from floor to ceiling. It was impressive, whatever world Trey was planning to inundate him into.

It all rankled of high-end-fashion, and he would’ve been a liar to deny his curiosity for it.

“Sure Trey, just a friend…” languid smile for the gentle tug of that leash labeled ‘acquaintance’, he felt the meaning in the reminder as Marie rushed into view; poor thing was literally left holding the bag, and he sympathized even as he shouldered her passive scrutiny. Poured extra effort into playing tagalong, obedient to one Mr. Cameron.

Cause apparently they were changing now?! He tucked his surprise turned dismay away behind a brief sigh, paperwork was the last thing he wanted to do that day; he’d promised himself he’d try though - could aim for ‘legible’ handwriting and words that made sense. Unless it was just checking boxes? That’d be easiest, probably.

“Thank you Marie! *Comin* — Yeh-know, I wouldn’t mind getting a gig outta this. S’it a regular type of thing you do Mr. Cameron; with all your ‘on-a-whim’ type friends?” brought his broil of a personality down to a simmer as he hushed words Treys way, matching that business quick pace while keeping an eye out for a room just off 153, wherever that was supposed to be.

Friends — no, acquaintances — he knew enough to know he knew nothing at all. Had just skimmed the surface of Trey’s reality, those personal details where he existed between Senshi and Man. Found he instantly wanted more. To know the devil who existed within such meticulously laid boundaries intimately.

Especially since he knew himself to be terrible at keeping acquaintances in the traditional sense; keeping others at arm's length and pairing his interactions down to early morning visits round the company watering hole. It probably didn’t help that he refused to treat their ‘organization’ like an actual position; something to ascribe rules n regulations to, wasn’t like he was being paid, the benefits were all personal gains that he’d hedged out for himself.